#slowly working my way through my inbox <3 thank you as always for sending me messages

[galedekarios]

What do you think of their decision to make Gale a teacher in his good ending? Earlier in the game, he says his attempted students’ ineptitudes irked him. Do you think he’s made enough of a change to make a good professor?

thank you for your message, anon! 🖤

i'm of two minds about it:

i am going to be transparent here and say that i am a teacher myself. i studied, i did my teacher training, and i have been teaching for a good bit now - and some people are meant to be teachers, and some are not. it's one of those professions that you have to be born for, imo. it requires an immense amount of patience and perseverance, a certain intuition when it comes to your students, among many other things.

i have said before that i can see gale as a professor, but less so in a teaching position and more in a sort of research role.

so looking at this, i think what larian is trying to convey is that gale has settled into this new life he leads, that he's found his place in life. that he's finally worked to salvage that life instead of reaching for the stars.

he's content now, more than he's ever been before. he has returned to the home he missed so very much. he's spending his time surrounded with the people he loves. tara, morena, the player, his friends. and he's dedicated himself to the study of magic.

that feeling of being content, happiness and security and love, as well as the journey he's been on, too, may have quelled the things that caused him to feel so irked by his students prior to his journey, perhaps it has given him a new perspective on things, the low lows and high highs he experienced.

but i also think that larian does listen to community feedback - imo too much at times - and this was a intensely popular headcanon for gale.

i have taken a look for you at the files for the epilogue and the notes in it seem to echo my thoughts overall:

His default state is that he returned to Waterdeep and became a professor of Illusory magic at his former school, Blackstaff Academy. General vibe here is that this a Gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

[c0la-queen]

Whispered Words | Red Leader x Reader | MDNI

Uhh, so I got the brain worms for this at midnight last night and finished it this morning when I woke up! I love soft Red Leader <3 I'm gonna try to go through my inbox later today, after I hang out with my sister this morning! Thank you all so much for your patience with me!

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Soft spice, P in V, not super descriptive, wife!Reader, soft Red Leader, MDNI!!!!!

--

The cries of a baby pulled you out of the deep sleep you were in. Despite it being muffled by the wall, those instinctual parental feelings had you waking up anyway. You groaned softly as you stretched your legs out against the mattress, the expensive sheets smooth under your skin. The coldness of the bed made you sigh, eyes fluttering open to take in the empty side of the bed.

Red Leader had been away on a mission all weekend. It wasn't a normal occurrence, most of the time he left the field work to his trusted soldiers. But there were the rare occasions where something came up that was important enough for him to be directly involved.

You understood that it was his duty, but you couldn't help but miss him. It was easier before, earlier in your relationship. When you could hang out with other soldiers throughout the day, fulfill various duties around the base to keep your mind off him. But now that you were married and had a baby? You couldn't run away from the anxiety that plagued you. Rubbing the heel of your hand over your eye to dismiss the last ropes of sleep, you silently wished to the universe for his safety.

The sudden quiet made you pause. The baby had stopped crying. Why had she stopped crying? A spike of panic split your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribcage. Had someone broken in? Was there any way that one of the Red Army's enemies had managed to slip past the many security systems installed in your bedroom door alone?

Your hand creeped under the pile of pillows, finding the handle of the combat knife hidden there. For emergencies, Red had insisted. Seems like he was right.

Slowly, silently, you crept to the open doorway leading to the nursery. You hid the knife behind your thigh, tightening your grip on the handle. You held your breath as you approached the doorway, slowly peeking in.

A figure was standing in front of the cradle.

You raised the knife, prepared to protect your baby. Your muscles tensed as you got ready to lunge forward....

...only to freeze when you heard the whispered Norwegian words that slipped from the figures lips.

It was your husband standing there. Still dressed in his mission uniform.

All the tension poured out of your body at the sight. There was no intruder. You leaned against the doorway as the adrenaline faded away.

"Darling?”

Red Leader swiveled in surprise. He blinked at the sight of you, half asleep and disheveled in your maroon silk nightgown. His expression softened.

"I was hoping not to wake you."

You sighed and set the combat knife aside on the bookshelf next to the door. Red's eyebrows raised at the sight of it, sending you a questioning look.

"I got worried when Hilde stopped crying. I didn't realize you were home."

Red smiled softly, holding your daughter against his shoulder, patting her back gently to soothe her.

"Clever girl. I got back not too long ago. We decided to push the debriefing back until the morning."

As Red continued to coo in his native language to the fussy baby, you walked closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind. The sight was so sweet to you, seeing the big, strong army leader cradle his little daughter in his arms. You laid your head against his back.

"Are you hurt?"

That was almost always the first question you asked him when he got back from missions.

"I'm fine, min dronning."

You hummed, enjoying having him there in your arms. A smile slipped onto your face when you noticed Hilde falling back asleep, eyelids fluttering closed. Since she was up on her father's shoulder, you had to stand up on your toes to reach her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Hilde."

Red Leader chuckled softly, setting her back in her cradle. Once she was settled, he stepped away, turning back to you. His silver eyes drifted over you, taking in the full state of you. Despite the amusement glimmering in his silver eyes, you could see that he was tired. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and his shoulders hunched.

"You should change out of that uniform."

"I couldn't agree more, love."

Once back in the bedroom, you climbed back into the bed, settling back into your spot. Red kicked off his boots, tossing his jacket and belt onto the work desk pressed against the wall. He sat down on the edge of the bed before peeling the turtleneck off his torso.

Your breath hitched at the sight of his torso. Fresh, dark bruises littered his abdomen, splotches of burst blood vessels standing out from his beautifully pale skin.

"Who did this to you..?"

Red 'tsk'd, tossing the shirt into the hamper nearby.

"Just a little disagreement during the mission. I was hoping to hide it from you a little longer."

You crawled closer, a frown forming on your lips as you looked over the bruises. Tentatively, you reached forward, brushing your fingers feather light across the darkened skin. Red groaned softly.

"Poor thing..."

He chuckled breathlessly, setting his hands on your thighs as he pulled you to sit in his lap.

"I've had worse, min dronning. There is nothing to be concerned about, I assure you."

He leaned down, pressing his lips softly against yours. You sighed, mumbling against his lips.

"I still don't like it..."

Red's shoulders shook with laughter. He mumbled back, matching your low tone.

"I know how to take care of myself."

You deepened the kiss to shut him up, which he happily accepted. Your fingers slid into the back of his hair, fingernails gently scratching his scalp to soothe him. His fingers splayed over the skin of your thighs where the nightgown rode up, one warm flesh and the other chilled metal. Teeth nipped your bottom lip, wanting more of you, of your existence, of your warmth and softness.

You rolled your hips against his, causing him to pull his lips away from yours. A groan sounded from his throat, his silver eyes clouded with desire.

Gently, being careful of his bruises, you pushed him back, coaxing the Leader to lay on his back. He did so eagerly, looking up at you with what you could only describe as utter adoration. It made your heart skip a beat.

"Let me help you relax, min konge."

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his chest, tracing the various scars that you found. Red smiled, carefully squeezing your thighs.

"After a mission like that? I need it. Plus, how could I say no to my sweet girl~?"

A giggle bubbled out of your lips, sitting up to pull his trousers and boxers away. Too lazy (and too cold) to take your nightgown off, you simply slid your panties off and tossed them aside. Red's eyes glimmered as he took you in - though, they quickly fluttered shut at the feeling of your hips rolling, sliding your wetness along the length of him. He sighed, sliding his fingers up and down your thighs lovingly.

You reached down, slipping your hands underneath his and intertwining your fingers together. A soft whine escaped you as you moved, taking him inside of you slowly and leisurely, no rush whatsoever. The whine mixed with Red's hissed exhale, which turned into a groan from the feeling of your wet heat. His back arched off the bed slightly, comforted by the familiar feeling of you tight around him. This was safety. This was peace. This was home.

"Ffuck... min kjærlighet..."

Soft pants fell from your lips as you found an easy, sensual pace as you bounced your hips. The moonlight filtering in through the windows is your only light, bathing you both in the silvery blue glow of the Norwegian winters.

Red leaned his head back, giving soft, shaky groans. Not once did his eyes leave you, drinking in the sight before him. In his mind, he was going through a list of every deity he could think of, silently thanking them for the gift of his wife, so ethereal in the light of the moon. His hips rocked gently to meet yours, causing soft whimpers to spill from you.

"Du er så vakker min kjære...Min perfekte manglende brikke..."

It wasn't long before your pace began to falter. Three days of being apart was built up inside you both. Three days of waking up alone, three days of longing for each other, three days of yearning. A light sheen of sweat covered your skin from the effort of riding him, cooled by the cold air in your bedroom. The fire had long faded out in the fireplace, nothing but glowing embers and charred remains.

Red's breathing was ragged, body quivering from the mounting tension that was building up within his body. His hips continued to meet yours, making warmth pool below your stomach. Red's back arched again, gently squeezing your hands between his.

"Come on, min kjærlighet... come on, baby..."

Soon, that tension snapped within you both. Your hips stuttered to a stop, soft moans muffled into your intertwined hands as waves of pleasure flowed through you. Red hissed at the way you clenched around him, finding his own release.

When you collapsed against his chest, tired and panting, Red immediately wrapped his arms around you. His fingers slid soothingly along your spine. He peppered kisses all across your face, his heart filled with nothing but love and adoration.

Praises were whispered into the quiet night air, breaths mixing together as you both came down. You dragged your lips against his lips lightly.

"Feeling relaxed?

Red's shoulders shook in laughter. He pressed his lips against your forehead, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from your skin.

"Consider me completely boneless."

You both laughed softly, enjoying each other's presence. After a few minutes, you sat up, humming in content as you carefully slid off him. Red's eyes fluttered, but he remained where he was.

He hummed softly as he watched you fish your panties off the floor. His eyes traced over every curve, admiring and memorizing every acne scar, stretch mark, and sun spot.

"Vakker..."

You pursed your lips at him, tossing a pair of fresh boxers over his face.

"You need to sleep."

Red chuckled, pulling the black fabric off his face. He sat up with a groan, pulling the boxers on.

"Probably."

He moved, laying back against his pillows, before extending his arms to you like a lazy cat. You smiled, climbing into bed and cuddling up to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

"Hi."

Red ran his fingers through your hair, brushing out any knots.

"Hi yourself."

"Sweet dreams, min dronning."

He rolled you both into a more comfortable position. Your back to his chest, one of his arms over your shoulder with the other underneath your pillow. His hand splayed over your stomach - a habit he developed when you were still pregnant. His legs curled up, tucked underneath yours, almost like you were sitting on his lap while laying down.

His voice was soft, lowered to a whisper.

"Sweet dreams, darling."

[bluebirdsboi]

Dawn | Connor Rhodes x Male Reader | 18+

Fandom: Chicago Med

Genre: Angst, Implied Smut | Songfic: Haunted by Laufey

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Male Reader

Warnings: Sexually suggestive

Word Count: 749

~ Requests are clsoed ~ Taglist is open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Key

Italic text = Song lyrics

(Y/n) = Your name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey guys, this did turn out a little shorter than I would've liked, but I'm okay with it. Requests are still closed, but you can still show support with likes, comments and reblogs. My taglist is open, so if you want to be tagged in future fics, send me a DM or an inbox message and tell me which fandoms you want to be tagged for, or if you're okay with anything. In other news, I'm still working on the second chapter of my The Last of Us fic and the first chapter of an Anyone But You fic that I plan on being a trilogy. Both will be on my second blog as well as my AO3 and Wattpad, so I'd appreciate if you check those out. The masterlist for Chicago Med will be up later tonight and Chapter 1 of the Anyone But You fic should be up also later tonight or tomorrow, so until then, thank you for reading <3.

One more kiss, wine stained lips I don't want to go to sleep yet Pale moonlight, misty eyes I'll allow myself to have him just tonight

Connor's hands felt warm against your biceps. His lips, soft, yet passionate against your bare shoulder. You lose yourself in the feeling, savoring every second because you know that it won't last. "Connor-" "Shhh." You felt his chest against your back as he tilted your face to catch your lips. All he wanted to do was stay in that moment for as long as he could. The feeling of his lips dancing with someone else's was intoxicating, and you let yourself become enamored with the sensation.

I hold on to every ounce of sin I know he don't love me quite like I love him

He slowly guides you to the bed as he kisses down your neck, causing you to sigh and moan in ecstasy. His lips and breath continue to trail down your body, but you know that this situation means different things to both of you. You want this to keep going for as long as it can, even past tonight, but for Connor, it's just another way to change up his night. Regardless, neither of you cared and just wanted each other.

I swear to myself as he leaves at dawn This will end, 'til he haunts me again

Just before dawn started to break, you felt Connor moving on the other side of the bed. You rolled over just to see him, even if he wasn't facing you, which he wasn't. An urge to ask him to stay started to rise, but you decided against it. "I'll, uh.. see you later today (Y/n)." Every part of you wanted to grab him by the arm and pull him back in bed, but you told yourself that this was just a situational thing. You just got caught up in the moment and now, that moment has passed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose perfume, low-lit room I'll pretend you'll stay forever Lay me down, ghostly sounds

"Oh, come on. You know you can always talk to the guy." You were in the break room and telling April about what happened last night with Connor. It was still so vivid in your mind, the moonlight that crept through the window, the way he caressed your arms, you swear you could still feel his lips on your shoulder. You wanted to tell Connor how you really felt about him, but after last night and knowing that he's just going to move on like nothing happened held you back. "It won't matter. It was just a one-night stand type of thing, you know?" April felt somewhat bad for you because she knew how much you wanted to be with Connor. "Well, if you ever feel up to it, you know where to find him. Just find the right time." April gave you a pat on the shoulder before she left. She could tell you needed a minute alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Haunt the hallways as he wraps me around

The evening just began to settle when you heard a knock on the door and decided to answer. Connor standing in front of the door frame was the last thing you expected, but then again, you weren't expecting anything. He couldn't even explain why he was at your doorstep, but you welcomed him in, regardless. Despite your feelings, you could still be cordial with Connor, albeit they peeked through when you sat a little closer to him than you should have on the couch.

And I hold on to every ounce of sin I know he don't love me quite like I love him

The night got dangerously close to a repeat of what happened the night before, and what tipped it over the edge was when his arm found itself around your shoulders. Before you knew it, your lips were intertwined with each other's in your room, both of your shirts cast to the wayside, the rest of your clothes soon to follow.

I swear to myself as he leaves at dawn This will end, 'til he haunts me again

The sunlight was just starting to stream in through your window as you recounted what happened the previous night, remembering everything you did with Connor. You wanted to believe that he stayed this time, but you already know the truth. You didn't bother tuning over because you knew there was nothing to see on the other side of the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @houndsoforion, @jinniemyl0ve, @zoloft3

[ac3id]

Plaything | 18+ | part i

plaything 1/ ?? | part 0

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 1: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation, masturbation, filming w/o consent, boot grinding, a little bit of bakusquad + reader....this is filthy :D 

summary: by luck you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt and powerful brats who just seem to hate you and among them, a certain red eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 1: you bump into bakugou by accident, dropping your vanilla ice cream all over him, you try to apologize and run away but wants more...oh wait why are his friends standing there recording everything too? 

wordcount. 4k+

a/n: sooooo, it’s finally out! huge thanks to @sawamooora for proof reading this! helped me out a lot <3 sorry for making u sit through that mess x[

 this scene was inspired by that one episode of boys over flowers where the mc’s best friend drops ice cream on the main guy’s shoe and he asks the mc to lick it off...obviously that didn’t happen in the show but it really got me thinking...... 

alsO the netflix show elite,,, i just saw it and knew,,,,

taglist: @mocha-focha​, @erenyeagersbasement​ , @haribo-pop, @sunshine-fangs​, @kuremis​, @amazing-fandoms​,

dm/ inbox/ comment to be added/ removed. 

—navigation

It was a great opportunity. Never in your life would you have thought you’d manage to land a scholarship at the prestigious U.A Private Academy. 

The school was a dream, the best in your city, and only affordable for the rich. Graduating from such a school could have helped you with life in so many different ways. Not only would it open doors you could never touch before, but it would help you to form connections which would make your life undoubtedly easier.

Graduating from U.A. was a blessing, but obviously, it did not come easy. It was rather unfortunate. After your previous school building had collapsed, due to some accident, the board announced its year-long closure.

At the time, you were beyond lost and understandably frustrated - it was your last year before college and you simply couldn't risk waiting the year out. The whole situation was nerve-wracking, looking for decent schools which would allow you in. 

Honestly, you had no idea what you would’ve done if U.A. hadn’t called you that night. 

It was the last day of the summer holidays, a week after your school building had collapsed. Luckily, no one was hurt - but the damage on the campus was severe. 

You had been talking to your friends when your mother rushed into your room with exciting news. Apparently, the chairman of U.A was feeling generous. He had decided to offer four excellent students from your school a scholarship to U.A. 

You were overjoyed being one of the students along with your two other friends; Shinso Hitoshi and Izuku Midoriya. 

At first, the thought was a little scary - going into a completely different world than you were accustomed to. The kids there would be much different than you, you didn't want to be the   laughing stock, you didn’t want to be their silly little entertainment... The thought made you nervous, but when your best friend, Izuku, called you the next night explaining how he also won the scholarship; followed by Shinso, you were relieved. 

Yes, you were stepping into a whole different world but you at least had your two friends with you. 

And that brought you to the first day of school. 

You stood outside the huge gates of the even enormous academy all alone shaking in your little, expensive skirt they forced you to wear as the uniform waiting for your friends. You promised the two boys you’d wait for them, and besides, you weren’t planning on entering the building all alone. 

Your friends, Shinso and Midoriya, lived close to each other. They were supposed to meet you at the gates of the school that morning, but they were running late. Your anxiety grew the longer you stayed there, with students filling the place- arriving in their fancy cars with their expensive bags and accessories. It easily made you feel out of place.

“Hey,” you heard someone before someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly turned around to greet the voice. Staring back at you was Uraraka Ochaco.

You remembered she was in your school too, Midoriya has a huge crush on her. 

“Yes, Uraraka? Right?” You weren’t close to her, nothing but mere acquaintances. But seeing her face - right here, right now - it made your day. 

Uraraka was dressed in the same uniform as you, there was no doubt that she was one of the four kids who won the scholarship. Both of you talked while you implored her to wait for Midoriya and Shinso. You didn’t fail to notice the way her cheeks turned pink when you mentioned Midoriya. The two of them were so obvious. 

Your friends arrived, they were late, but they came. 

Apparently, there was an accident that forced them to stay back a little longer, but they managed to make it before the first bell. 

“I actually have an old friend who goes there now,” Midoriya confesses out of the blue as the four of you enter the gates. You look at him in awe. 

During the three years in high school that both of you had spent together, he had never mentioned any friend of his going to the U.A. academy ever. 

“Why did you never tell us?” Uraraka asks. 

“well, we’re not on good terms. He used to live in the same neighborhood before his parent’s business took off. He left after middle school.” Midoriya says, a slight frown forming on his face.

“Who is he?” Shinso asks. 

Midoriya pauses briefly before explaining his entire history with a temperamental and rude blonde. Bakugou Katsuki, he calls him. His childhood friend. But from what you managed to gather, Bakugou was anything but a friend to Midoriya. 

Bakugo was once just a simple boy, living a simple life, destined to do great things - but once his parent’s clothing line ‘Dynamite’ blew up and became mainstream, he started drowning in wealth. Bakugo moved out of his old neighborhood at the starting of high school before enrolling in U.A., just like all his rich friends.

“Maybe you should say hi,” Uraraka suggests. Midoriya’s expressions turned sheepish.

“About that…” he started. “I called him yesterday, got his number from mom, and-” he stopped. 

“What did he say?” Shinso asked.

“He told me to get lost and die,” Midoriya said with a slight frown on his face, looking down. 

That was your first impression of Katsuki Bakugou. For a man you had not even met, you sure loathed him. 

School went smoothly for a week, everything was going great. The four of you kept your profile low, didn’t talk until spoken to, kept your distance, and everything was okay. 

People often starred and whispered amongst each other when they saw you in the hallways, but that was about it. Everyone seemed to be decent but… there’s always a but. 

Everything took a turn for the worse when you managed to piss off the wrong person, Bakugo Katsuki himself. 

It was an honest mistake, not even that big of a deal - especially for his standards Yet, for some reason, Bakugo wanted to get under your skin. 

It happened after your lunch break, you were on your way back to your classroom with an ice-cream cone fasted tightly in your hands. You mindlessly dashed through the hallways, trying your best to get back to class as fast as possible - you don’t want to be late. It’d earn you a bad reputation. You don’t need that- you don't want anything which could jeopardize your scholarship. 

You walked straight and took a turn. Just by fate, you bumped into a stiff, hard chest making you wobble on your feet and sending your ice cream from your hand flying straight to the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed, looking down seeing what you had to work with. 

The ice-cream cone splattered on the floor, the white creamy liquid flushed all over the floor along with staining an expensive-looking, black leather boot. A snarl comes from above you along with a group of chuckles. More expensive shoes come into your line of view as you realize you’re not alone. 

You slowly bring your gaze up, ogling at who you just pissed off. 

Staring back at you is a furious blonde, glaring at you with such intensity that it makes your stomach drop. It’s the infamous Bakugou Katsuki, you don’t want to deal with him. 

-

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you don’t give him a chance to complain as you take your flight. Quickly, you try running away but a large hand grabs your forearm, stopping you dead in your tracks. 

You look to the side, deep red eyes stare right back at you. 

“Where are you running off to? Don’t you think you owe my friend here a proper apology?” Kirishima says, his grip on your arm growing tighter. He towers over you, his huge body trapping you with intimidation.

Going to U.A for over a week there’s a thing or two that you’ve learned about the rich, snobby brats who own the school. Not everyone is bad, a few of them are actually but the rest are just bad. 

Bakugou was the worst. From how Midoriya described him, you knew for a fact he’d be a horrible person. But hell, he managed to prove himself even worse. 

He was crude, mean, downright arrogant, and ignorant. Always screaming unasked opinions on top of his lungs, and gets mad whenever someone disagrees. He acts like the world revolves around him.

 Bakugo had a bunch of friends who he called his “followers” and they weren’t any better.

They just watched while Bakugou ruined everything, they were there to support him. 

Kirishima Eijirou the redhead, he was captain of the football team. He was a jock, brawns over brains kind of person. Girls cooed over him and his overly attractive, hot body. It looked as if he was sculpted by God himself. 

Next was Kaminari Denki. He was in the school band, dating the lead singer. And yet, he managed to find time to flirt with other girls. He was the goofball of the group, dumb and stupid But he always knew what he was doing. Even though it was barely noticeable, you could always see a devious glint in those amber eyes of his. 

Sero Hanta was famous for a lot of reasons. Most notably for having brought illegal drugs on the campus and skipping classes to go down to his junkie hangout spot to smoke weed. The man had no shame. Sometimes, he’d walk into the classrooms high as fuck. The teachers couldn’t do anything even if they tried, his parents practically owned the school; he owned the school. There was no going against the tall, lanky man who looked like he couldn’t even smash a bug. He held the most power and his friends sure knew how to abuse it. 

Last but not least was Mina Ashido. The one and only girl member of the self-proclaimed ‘bakusquad’. Sometimes, Jirou Kyouka, the lead singer of the school, would hang out with the boys and her boyfriend, but she wasn’t a permanent member. Mina was. 

In your opinion, Mina was a nightmare dressed like a daydream. With her short, pink hair and bright smile, she seemed like an angel. But she was the devil. Worse than even Bakugou, perhaps. 

She knew everything about everyone, she had leverage galore: screenshots ready to leak, videos ready to ruin lives. She had them all, and frankly- she scared you the most. 

Kirishima pushed you back, and Bakugo caught you by your shoulders. 

“That was fucking rude,” he growled, biting his fingers into your shoulder blades tight and hard making you squeal. “Are you fucking blind or something? Fucking extra.” 

“I said I’m sorry, let me go will you?” Even in such a terrifying situation, you try to remain calm.

“What do you think, Sero?” Kaminari began. Your heart sank, including Sero into anything was never a good sign. 

“She ruined Bakugou’s new shoes,” he continued. Bakugou’s hold on you tightened and you winced, turning back to him and returning his glare. 

“Okay, what do you want?” you give in, finally. A mischievous spark lights up in his crimson eyes as flashes a cocky smirk to his friends before turning back to you with a frown. He pushes you towards Mina and she catches you with an arm around your shoulder. 

“Those were expensive, right?” she looks at you and then back at Bakugou. He grunts, nodding. 

“Fuck yes, I’m pissed as hell. Some fucking extra managed to ruin it.” 

You look back down to steal a glance at his heavy, leather boot. The small, white stain melted away. 

“What will you do to make up for it?” Mina whispers your name and you cringe. They were teasing you. For their fun, they were making fun of you. 

“What can I do?” you say, sarcastically. Prying yourself away from her hold. The crowd goes dead silent before speaking. Sero is the first one to talk. 

“Lick it off.”

There’s a pause, no one speaks. Your stomach drops and your face pales at the look the five of them are giving you- it’s serious. Dead serious. 

Kaminari bursts out laughing followed by Sero and the others. The four of them get a great laugh but Bakugou stares at you head-on with his grave expressions burning through your soul. 

“Whatcha looking at? Do it,” he commands. 

The laughing dies down and Kaminari speaks, “are you serious? You want her to lick your shoe,” he can’t control his laughter, a chuckle breaks with every word. 

“Yes, I’m fucking serious. Besides, Sero recommended it,” he smirks. “Do you really want to say no to him? I don’t know so much about this but-“ he leans down close to your face, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “it might complicate your scholarship.” 

There’s a twisted rhythm in his voice. He’s enjoying tormenting you. You still want to believe that they’re just messing around. That they’ll have their laughs and let you go, but the way Sero stares at you says otherwise. 

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bakugou asks. 

“Of course she doesn’t! That’s gross, oh my god.” Mina exclaims, earning a chuckle from the rest of the boys. 

“Hey, let’s hear it from Sero himself.” Kirishima pats Sero’s back, pushing him forward. The five of them have circled around you, coiling you inside their venomous nest with you in the center. You turn to Sero with pleading eyes, looking up at his huge form, begging. 

He smirks looking down at you, you look so tiny beneath bim. He wants to mess with you, even more, you look like a nice toy to him. He wants to play with it until he can’t. 

“I guess, I did say that-” your blood runs cold, heartbeat picking up in nervousness. “-but you don’t need to do it.” He finishes. Your face lights up while the others groan in disappointment. Bakugou looks livid. 

“Just know that, you’re the one who dropped the ice cream on Bakugou’s shoe and now you’re not even helping him out. That’s not very noble, is it? I don’t know if I even by mistake slipped that info back home- my parents might reconsider whether you truly deserve to be here or not. They don’t really like disrespectful kids who comprise the school’s name.” 

Sero ends his speech with a wide, ear-to-ear grin, followed by a pat to your head. 

“The choice is yours.”  

You pause for a moment and think. Where they were really going to make you do it, where they were really going to humiliate you like this. They were. But were you willing to do it? 

From Sero’s threat, you could tell he was serious, this was legit. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time the school expelled someone who had beef with Sero, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They don’t care about anyone but their loving son. They wouldn’t even think once before expelling you.

“What’s your answer, princess?” Kirishima teases.

 Mina and Kaminari once again break into fits of laughter.

“What do you mean? She doesn’t have a choice here, kneel you extra.” Your heart hammers in your chest as Bakugou gestures you to kneel. You stop for a second, breathing unevenly- thinking. After a long, thoughtful sigh, you answer. 

“No, I am not going to do it.” Your voice is meek yet clear. Even though you’re trembling under the heavy gazes of five snakes, you choose to stand your ground. 

Bakugou glaring at you while the others boo. 

“Aw, c’mon you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t be a little brat.” 

Bakugou stays silent while the others continue to throw insults at you -  calling you names and trying to make you regret your decision. You look straight forward into Bakugou’s cold, red eyes, searching for his next move. Your heart beats even harder in your chest with increased anxiety. After watching your torment for more than a few minutes, Bakugo decides he’s had enough of this game.

“Hey, shitty hair,” Bakugo starts. “Punch me.” 

“What?” Kirishima asks, vividly shaken. “Why do you want me to hit you, Bakubro?” 

“Punch me real hard, give me a black eye.” The confusion grows greater on everyone’s faces. You stare at him in awe, wondering what angle was trying to play. 

Kirishima raises his hands in defense. “Woah, dude slow down there. I’m not just going to punch you.” 

Bakugou clicks the roof of his tongue, letting out a sound of irritation. “You all are just dumb,” he starts.

“Imagine if this punny, little,” he leans down closer to you till his lips touch your ears and whispers your name with a crude chuckle. “Were to drop all her food over me, not apologize, punch and me then run away, that’d bring her into a whole world of trouble. Wouldn’t it?” 

Bakugo’s words are calculated and sly, he knows exactly what he’s getting at when he starts. His voice fills you up with dread as he makes his accusations public.

“She would be expelled on spot and Kacchan could also raise charges,” Kaminari adds. 

Your eyes widen in fear. 

“Yeah, I’ll fucking do that.” Mina giggles. “That would succck,” she cheers. Your lower lip quivers as you stare at them in disbelief, your eyes open wide only to be covered with fear. 

“Hey, c’mon, why are you doing this to me?” You feel them inch closer to you, their warmth leeching onto you the longer you stay surrounded by them. 

“Because you have no fucking manners.” Bakugou snarls. 

“Kiri, punch him. What are you waiting for? If you don’t wanna do it I will!” Kaminari cries, growing impatient. 

Kirishima laughs before he charges Bakugou. Your heart hammers in your chest. 

You think about your family, your future, and how disappointed everyone would be with you. Your dreams and aspirations, all were rooted in this school. 

It was honestly sad, pathetic even. Your entire future was just a joke to these spoiled kids. These kids who could control you, and everyone else,  with just a flick of their fingers. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the price to pay for a piece of the beautiful cake known as U.A... You resign yourself to your fate.

A piece of your mind. 

“N-no, don’t do that. I-I’ll do it,” you murmured, your voice timid and weak. The five paused looking at each other with an ominous glint in their eyes. Bakugou was the first to speak. 

“Well, then fucking get on with it. On your knees.” Obediently like a trained puppy, you got down onto your knees, not letting your eyes fall from Bakugou’s face. His red, fierce eyes barked at you with an unknown look, keeping you lost. 

“Holy shit, she’s actually doing this,” Mina squealed watching you lean forward, bringing your face next to Bakugou’s expensive boots.

“Kaminari, record this.” Sero taps at the energetic blonde, forcing him to take his phone out and hit ‘record’. As you lean further to the ground, your short skirt rides up behind you, giving the audience a clear view of your round ass and pastel panties. The sight brings a smile to Bakugou’s face as he scoffs. 

“Cute panties,” he remarks. 

You jerk, trying desperately to sit back, but Bakugo stops you. Smashing his other foot on top of your shoulder, he holds you there facing the ground.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” he growls.

You squirm, almost falling under his weight and as much you hate to admit it, a tingle of excitement runs down your spine. This was turning you on.

 A row of whistles flood in, the boys start teasing you and praising Bakugou. 

“Lick it off,”  he commands. 

You look down at his leather boot, the ice cream almost melted. There’s still a bright white spot of the sweet now liquid splayed out. Even though it’s not a lot, it still makes you cringe. You peek your shy, little tongue out timidly, forcing yourself to do the heinous deed. 

Bakugou watches you hesitate and pushes on your shoulder harder making you reach towards him. 

You give in after a final attempt, diving into his wishes. Your wet tongue touches the rough, cold leather. You cringe after a single touch, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose at the salty taste. “Clean it all off,” he commands.

You dive back in, this time letting your tongue glide across a larger portion. The humiliation burns through your body. It makes you uncomfortably hot, mostly from anger and but a little bit of arousal.

“Nice ass.” 

There it is. The excitement comes back the moment they start making suggestive comments, the attention riles you up and it’s horrible. 

“Kaminari are you even supposed to be here? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Mina asks at the blonde pervert who was currently zooming on your ass. 

“Oh? We’re cool as long as I don’t stick my dick her,” he points to you. “That’s hella fucking tempting but I’m in love, dude.” He chuckles to himself, thinking about his girlfriend. 

They treat you like an object, talking about you like you were some sort of a toy. 

“Bet her pussy is tight,” Sero says. 

Kirishima turns to Bakugou, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Yo, Bakubro, can we touch her?” 

Bakugou looks on from watching you lick his boot and turns to Kirishima. A dark, unsettling gaze falls across his eyes as he speaks, “No. This one is mine.” he stares down at you. 

You stop lapping on his shoe and stand back on your knees, buckling your knees you try to get up but Bakugou harshly kicks your shoulder, throwing you back and making you cry. 

“Why did you do that?” you squeal, holding onto your bruised shoulder, glaring at him intently. 

The rest of the group goes quiet at the display of Bakugou’s sudden violence. 

He stands between your thighs, lazily resting his foot atop of your soft thighs. 

“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” the angle you were spread out in had your skirt flipped over hips, displaying your pretty, pastel panties to everyone in the room. 

Even though it’s subtle, masked by everyone’s fear of what Bakugou was planning, you still feel everyone’s gaze focused right on you and more specifically at your clothed cunt. Bakugou presses hard on your thigh making you cry. 

“Useless Deku’s friends are just like him. The fucking second you walked in here, I knew you were just another useless insect for me to stomp on.” He pauses, smirking, pressing his foot onto you even harder, twisting his ankle to increase the burning sting surging across your right thigh. “And I’m doing just that.” 

He steps off you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and recover from the burn. His eyesight travels lower down to your panties. He admires the cute pair you had on. Normally when he’d see girls naked, they’d dress themselves up the most luxurious to match his standards. But that’s not you, that could never be you. 

He rejoices at the thought of seeing your flushed, tear-stained face breaking down under him. You’ll never be like those girls, always a step behind. He can build you up and break you however he likes, you’d have no say in it. 

The power trip drives him crazy. 

He presses the tip of his boot over your clothed clothed cunt, pushing the hard material right over your sensitive clit. 

You gasp at the feeling, looking up at him with terrified eyes. He smirks down at you, moving his foot in a steady rhythm, rubbing the fabric of your cotton panties against your little pearl. 

“This turning you on? What a freak.” The rest of his group basks in shock. They watch intently as the scene spiraled out for them, too captivated to make any comments. They just keep quiet and stare. 

The way you squirm under Bakugou as he plays with your cute clit so unforgivingly makes them hot with excitement. Kaminari feels a little guilty but he blames it on his nature as a man.

Sero feels a little bad for you, they all do. But then again they wouldn’t waste the opportunity to be in Bakugou’s footsteps- literally. 

“You’re a little slut, you know that?” Bakugou sneers. 

Your gasps turn into whimpers as his simulation becomes harder. You clench your fists, desperately wishing it to be over. Tears brim in your eyes at the sheer humiliation of your corrupted form. This was just too much, too much for you to handle. 

“Please, stop,” you beg, knowing he wouldn't listen. “I’ll report you,” you cry.  A roar of laughter starts, shutting you up. 

“Go for it, you do that.” Mina comments. Kaminari walks closer to you, bringing the camera down to your face recording your horrified expressions. 

“We’ll just go ahead and post this online.” he threatens. 

A drop of tear falls down your waterline following a waterfall. You cry, leave all of your dignity behind and cry. You beg them to stop but as your pleas mix with your moans, it’s hard for anyone to understand what you’re saying. It’s not like they don’t know what you’re asking them for, they just turn deaf, simply because they can. 

Bakugou stops, he takes a step back, leaving you alone. You let out the tiniest cry when he leaves, ditching you just when you need his touch the most. 

“Feels like I’m doing too much of the work, if you want it so bad, do this yourself.” He says. Your body still burns with desire, your clit still hard and cunt salivating, you are nowhere close to being done... 

It’s as if something takes over and you are possessed by the dire need to cum, you do exactly as he says. 

You snake your fingers down your panties, deliberately rubbing on your swollen little clit before pushing your finger into your drenched cunt. You cry out as you clench around your finger, the pleasure becoming unbearable. Your legs shake and you close your eyes shut. 

You stay there on the floor, fingering yourself in the corridor, without any shame, while Kaminari records all of it. 

“She’s gonna give me a hard-on,” Kirishima says and you moan.

“She really is a slut, huh?” Sero comments. 

“She’s cute,” Mina adds with a smile. 

Bakugou scoffs, “does Deku know how much of a whore you are?” He asks. 

You don’t pay any attention to what he says, too busy bringing yourself to your climax.

“You’re getting all this right?” Mina looks over Kaminari’s shoulder and onto the phone screen which captures you beautifully losing yourself for everyone to see. 

“You close?” Bakugou asks as you feel yourself clench around fingers tightly, he bends down on his and pulls your panties down your hips, admiring your precious cunt. 

“Cute pussy,” he remarks before flicking your sensitive, hardened clit.

A rush of pleasure washes down your body as you cry while cumming. Bakugou pushes you right over the edge, a nasty grin screaming atop his face as he watches you. You curse at yourself for letting him see you like this, but there’s not much you can do but cry while you feel your juices gush around you before sliding down your thighs and onto the dirty floor. 

It takes a second for you to calm down and when you do come to your senses, dread fills you up. Tears shamelessly fall down your face as you realize what you just did. The others laugh at you, without feeling any remorse. 

Bakugou continues to stare at you with an unsettling look, while the others discuss the heinous crime you’ve just committed. 

Sero looks down at you and you catch his dark eyes staring at you. A toothy grin scavenges his face as he speaks. 

“Awesome,” he says as if he just finished some mediocre movie. 

Finally, you find the courage to get up and run. 

This was totally not awesome. 

[matsbarzal]

Can i request 5 angst list with nathan mackinnon please?

angst #5. "please don't shut me out."

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader word count: 1.1k warning: angsty

It was always easier to shut down; to avoid that nagging feeling and the thoughts that constantly circulated your head. It was easier to avoid the situation, avoid the messages and the comments and the constant negativity that people felt as if they needed to bring onto you and into your life.

What made it difficult was when the one person you were meant to love unconditionally, made it so difficult to love him. You tried, you really tried, on Nate’s good days and his bad, you tried to give him all the love you could, tried to go out of your way to tip the scale to the positive side when it was leaning on the negative, tried to balance out the good and the bad. You maintained that it was your job, when you love a person, you work with them on their good days and their bad.

It wasn’t that Nathan disagreed, it was that he’d ignore the bad days, he’d brush them off and repeatedly mention that you’d be fine tomorrow and that everyone had their bad days. He wouldn’t go above that; he wouldn’t do the things that you constantly did for him.

It was draining, all the effort put in just to not receive it back in the same way. And Nate’s bad days were bad, very bad.

It was inevitable that you wouldn’t be able to handle it one day, one day you wouldn’t be able to sit through your own negativity and help him with his. You had tried to just shut it out, shut out all the negativity Nathan continuously exuded, tried to shake off all the lasting impacts of a bad game, or a bad week that he would bring home from the rink.

Your relationship had turned sour because of it, and you weren’t even sure if Nathan had realized that.

It was when the messages started coming that things really started to fall south.

Both you and Nathan were relatively private people, especially regarding your relationship and life outside of his occupation. He didn’t advertise you on his social media, didn’t tag you when he posted, he wasn’t one for public displays of affection, and it wasn’t because he didn’t love you; he was just a private person and wanted it to remain that way.

People didn’t take long to find your personal accounts, and it didn’t take long for the messages to start falling into your inbox either.

There was the constant comparison to Vanessa, to his other exes, the messages were either about your appearance, Nathan’s performance or everything in between. Everyone always tried to convince you that the good ones outweighed the bad, but it was hard to see the positive in a world full of negativity.

“I just don’t get why it upsets you so much, I know it’s not true, you know it’s not true. They’re just saying it to get under your skin in the hopes that it’ll get under mine. That’s just how people are,” he was always nonchalant about it, always brushing it off as if it were nothing.

The day the Avalanche were eliminated by Vegas was the day the messages hit their peak. Fans sending messages about his performance, their lack of appreciation, attempts to blame you for distracting him from what was most important, it was just weeks upon weeks of constant vigilance trying to determine whether or not it was worth opening any of the apps.

The both of you had decided it was probably best if Nate went back to Cole Harbour after the season ended, after months of not being able to see his family and friends, you knew he was amped to get home. The only problem? It left a significant amount of time to think and stew on everything that had been building up over the months.

It resulted in a text message being sent that you regretted seconds after the blue line appeared on your screen.

I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m sorry.

You knew it was the coward’s way out, sending a message when you knew he would be asleep and wouldn’t see it until the morning, not even bothering to attempt to call him or do it in person.

The moment the phone rang at 6:06am exactly, you knew he had read the message and had come to the exact conclusion he was expected to. You let all three of his calls go to voicemail, ignoring the texts and question marks that shot through immediately after.

The guilt ate away at you, picking through your stomach throughout the workday. You had cried the tears you needed to cry, screamed away all the anguish that had slowly been growing everyday over the last few months. The sadness wasn’t there anymore, the anger and the frustration were gone. The guilt remained.

Please don’t shut me out. At least answer me so that I know ur okay.

Nate had stopped messaging after that one, opting to give you space before he continued his onslaught of calls and messages.

I’m sorry, this is just too much for me. I can’t do it anymore.

Your finger hovered over the answer button when he called almost seconds later, opting to press gently against it and press the phone against your ear as you waited to hear Nathan’s voice.

“Why now? What changed?”

Shrugging subconsciously, you sighed into the phone as you attempted to formulate a response in your head.

“I guess being by myself gave me a lot of time to think. I just… I love you, Nathan, but I don’t know if I love you enoughto keep going through this constantly. You tell me not to shut you out, but you make it so difficult to keep you in the loop, you barely even acknowledge me when I try and get you to communicate about things like this.”

“So, texting me in the middle of the night is how you wanna go about it? Not even going to say it to my face or answer the phone?”

Your lips curled in disgust as you laughed harshly into the phone. “We’re talking right now, no? Or am I imagining this, just like I’m supposed to imagine a life where the person who claims they love me actually shows it?”

You could feel the aggravation through the phone, Nate’s frustration coming through with every sigh and huff that he made.

“Maybe a summer apart is what we need. Give us a chance to figure out what we both want; these last two years have been hard. Maybe we just need a break for a little while.”

Nodding your head slowly in agreement, you hummed into the phone. “Maybe you’re right. I think it’s for the best for right now.”

There was no saying what would happen when the summer came to an end, and autumn rolled around; there was no guarantee Nathan would be a changed man, but that wouldn’t stop the hope that would eventually bubble up inside you at the thought.

Only time would tell.

note: so sorry for how late this is!! thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy <3

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 11)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

It's been years since I’ve been left with that much energy after a day at work. I have minimal oiliness on my face by the time I check my mirror in my car. I actually feel like I could run a mental marathon, which is good considering my next stop. Tonight, I’m seeing the flirtatious Mr.Jeon so he can finally give me the brief for the windmill house. I have to admit, I’ve kind of been looking forward to it, not only because the house is amazing, but also because I find some fun in declining his straightforward yet quite funny advances. I drive my Mini out of London, to the secluded green space where Mr.Jeon’s house is. I stifle a smile walking up the crackled stairs. I almost fell on it the first time I came here. I remember almost losing my shit when he caught me. I don’t think I’d be that phased if it were to happen today. I’ve had him way closer to me since then, and that has been something too.

I park my car at the end of the dirt road at the bottom of the hill, and hike up the stairs that lead to the house. When I get there, I notice a black wooden door with mouldings has been installed. It's better than the sad plank that was there before, and it actually kind of fits the architecture. I knock on the door, and a few moments later, Mr Jeon opens it.

“Miss Fair.” He greets, smiling at me, all grey suit and white shirt, his tie gone, three of his buttons undone. I stop my eyes from moving further down, not wanting to check him out too obviously.

“Good Evening, Mr.Jeon.” I murmur, returning the smile. He always looks so yummy.

“Good evening.” He replies, stepping aside to let me in. “Please, come in.”

Step into the house, the floorboards creaking under my heels as I make my way in, and he closes the door behind me. 

“How was your day?” He asks as I walk into the living room, myeyes immediately going to the immense, 3 to 4 meter high bookshelf  I saw last time. The house is as pretty as I remember it. 

“Busy.” I reply evasively, my eyes wandering up to the ceiling, and the dome where the roof opens up onto the sky.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, pulling my attention back to him. I turn to him, and he's leaning against the kitchen counter, hands shoved in his pockets. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Are you going to try and turn this into a date?” I ask warily. Of course he's trying to make this a dinner date. He chuckles ,taking a few steps towards me.

“I’m worried about your blood sugar.” He counters, and I roll my eyes to the heavens. My blood pressure is what is really worrying. 

“I am fine, thank you.” I decline politely. This is a business meeting, Maya. I turn back around, venturing further in the living space. The couches are still covered by white sheets, except for one old brown leather armchair that I will one hundred percent stay in the house.

“Where should we start?” He prompts as I set my bag down onto the pretty arm chair.

“We can go from room to room and you tell me whatever you want to be done." I explain, sliding my coat off of my shoulders. I set it down on the back rest of the chair and start gathering my equipment. "I can also give you my ideas. I’ll snap a few pictures so I can remember how everything looks.” I say, pulling my tablet, camera and notepad out of my bag. 

“Then, I’ll draw sketches and I’ll come back to you for your approval.”  I conclude.

“Okay.”

“I'll also need the blueprints of the house.” I add before I forget.

“I’ll send them to you.” 

“Okay.” I turn around , glancing at the stairs that lead up to the star-azing platform..

“I really want to start up there.” I informed him. I have been thinking about this part of the house ever sincethe first time I came here. The sun has set, and I'm not sure what I'll be able to see but I'm curious.

“Sure.” He concedes, walking me up to the stairs. He lets me go first while he stays down under the staircase to turn the crank that lifts the blinds from the roof.

On the platform there is what I'm guessing is a telescope covered by a white sheet pointed at the ceiling.

After he gets to work the panels slowly go up, unveiling a dark sky with a few sparkles, and an almost full moon clearly visible.

“Oh, wow.” I whisper. This isn't the starriest sky I've seen in my life, but it's pretty bright for something just 45 minutes away from London. I guess the light pollution doesn't hit as much here.

A few seconds later, Mr.Jeon climbs the stairs and comes up behind me. This  space has so much potential. It's so unique, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before. 

“So your grandfather designed this?” I ask him, unable to detach my eyes from the spectacle in front of me.

“Yes. I’d like to keep it like this of course, but I want this space to have seats.” He explains, pulling my attention back to the platform I'm standing on. The stairs and floor are metal, which gives it a very industrial feel, but doesn't match the warmth we're trying to give the house. Imagine laying on a comfy fatboy and just staring up at the sky for hours.

“Like a star-gazing station?” I ask him.

“Exactly.” He concurs. “I think it’d be nice if you were able to lay down too.”

“I agree.” I nod. 

"I think," Mr.Jeon trails off, stepping in front of me and reading the calendar stuck on the wall right next to the covered telescope. "Venus should be visible tonight." He says as he checks the time on his watch. Venus?

"Really?" My eyes widen in excitement as he uncovers the telescope. It's dark green and kind of rusty, defenitely an old piece of equipement. I bet this belonged to his gandfather. It's not dusty though, meaning he probably uses it frequently. 

"I mean it is visible during the day too, it's one of the brightest objects in the sky." He explains, unscewing the lense cover and the eye piece. Oh, I'm about to see a planet for the first time! I'm still surprised a man like him has this kind of interest. It's really not common.

"But it might be too low now." He muses, and I watch as he twists and turns the telescope that is almost his height, following an integrated compass with coordnates. He looks into the telescope in silence, and I'm fascinated by how easy he makes it look. This businessman has hobbies that don't consist in golf. 

"There she is." He says once he's found his target, and steps back from the telescope. "Take a look." He invites me. I take his place and look  through the lense, to see white bright disc in the center of my vision.

"It's so bright." I observe. I'm only seeing a bright disc of light, I wonder what it would look from up close.

"It's atmosphere is mainly thick clouds which makes it really reflective." I hear him explain behind me. 

"You sound so nerdy." I remark, turning around to look at him. He crosses his arms.

"I wouldn't be building rockets if I wasn't a nerd." He retorts. True. I take another look at the planet thoufh the telescope. It's amazing to see, but I'm really curious about how it would look if I were on the surface. It's kinda sad that I'll probably never know. 

"This is a really cool place to have in a house." I muse, looking back at him. He has his very own small scale observatory. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"It's pretty nice." He agrees. I pull out my camera and snap a few picturs of the space, and we move on with the rest of the tour. After coming back down into the livingroom, we both agree to keep the massive bookshelf. That was a given; this is another huge piece of the house that never in a million years I would have considered removing even if he asked me to.

He tells me his grandfather has read evey single one of the books in there, and has even written some of them. He throws some ideas for the arrangement of the space ,and I snap e few more pictures. Then we tour the rest of the house; the dinning room, the two bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom, and the backyard. It takes us almost an hour to complete, and we're back in the living room, where I put down all my tools and start to pack up.

“Wine?"

I turn around to find him behind the kitchen ocunter, holding an expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He's trying to make me drink again!  I give him a dissaproving stare.

“I bought this bottle for the occasion.” He tells me. 

“What occasion?”

"Any day I get to see you is worth celebrating to me.” He coos. Oh please!  “Considering how you’re always avoiding me.” He adds. Oh, I know where this is going. 

“I am not going to sleep with you tonight.” I articulate, trying to sound convinving despite my amused tone.

“I’m just offering you a drink.” 

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Maya, you’re way smarter than this.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Excuse me?” I mimick him, crossing my arms under my chest.

“You wouldn’t be here if you really thought I was going to try to take advantage of you like that.” He points out. True. But still. 

“It’s Italian wine.” He adds when I don't answer. “I think you’ll love it.”

How does he know what I like already?! 

“Just one glass.” I give in. One tiny glass. I'm driving anyways so I'm not about to go crazy tonight.

“Okay.” He agrees before pulling two wine glasses from under the counter. He pours me half a glass, before serving himself.

I thim and we clink our glasses before taking a sip each. An boy this man knows his wine. I love sweet reds. Before I can even comment on the taste, there's a loud knock on the front door.

"Just in time." He comments, droping his class and walking over to the door. Who is he expecting? I hear the door open.

"Thank you Jimin." Mr Jeon says. Jimin? Isn't that his assistant? I remember his name from the time I went to the purple mansion. The door closes and Mr.Jeon reappears.

“I hope you like sushi." He announces, holding two plastic bags in his hands. Sushi?

"You ordered food?" I gasp, my face a mix of confusion and glee. "I figured you wouldn't have had time to eat." He answers, walking over to me. I watch, mesmerised as he drops the food on the counter. My eyes follow as he pulls out one, then a second, then a third plate of colorful sushi. There’s makis too, salmon, tuna, sea breaam sushi- a lot f very good stuff. I’m salivating, my eyes hugging the food close. "Hungry?" I look up and see him smirking at me. I love sushi, and I don’t know if I can refuse this offer. This is better than sex. "Well, I wouldn't want to waste." I shrug a shoulder, making him chuckle. He then pulls out the sauces, disposable chopsticks and napkins.  Little white makis catch my attention. "What are these?" I ask, pointing at my first preys. "Cheese makis.” "Cheese?" I repeat. Has there been a kind I haven’t tried yet? It’s time to update the sushi-pedia. "Have bite.” Mr.Jeon proposes, splitting a pair of chopsticks. He picks one of the cheese sushi and brings it over to my face. At this moment, I don’t even feel like pointing out how inappropriate it is, this man just won’t stop. I bite the sushi off, surprised by the creaminess of the cheese. I hum appreciatively. Sushi can never go wrong, even with cheese in it. This is amazing. "Right?" He concurs, smiling softly. "It's good." I agree once I’ve swallowed. Mr. Jeon hands me another pair of chopsticks, and I dive into the colorful maki rolls. "I'm going to be honest," I trail off after the first two bites. "You have found my weak spot." I mumble. "Sushi?" He says, amused. I nod vigorously. I would have declined any other type of food he would have proposed, but not sushi. He was spot on, and I'm not ashamed for giving in. "Any physical weak spot you want to tell me about?" When I look back at him, he’s turned his body so he’s facing me. Elbow propped onto the counter, he’s giving me all his attention. Oh you wish, Mr.Hotbuttocks. "I'll let you in on a secret." I announce, twisting so I’m facing him as well. "I'm all ears."  He murmurs. Feeling brave, I lean closer to him, prompting him to bend his neck and quite literally give me his ear. A distant, unused and forbidden part of my brain wants to bite his earlobe just to see his reaction. But I refrain. "I'm not having sex with you." I whisper, making him chuckle. He pulls back, shaking his head at me. I catch another sushi. "There was a time when you wouldn't say that." He says to me, eyes playful. "I was drunk." I retort. "Just tipsy." He counters. Ha! "There's not much difference." I mumble. "Let me put it another way.” He prompts, and I don’t like the smirk he’s giving me. I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you attracted to me?" He asks, but I’m not sure it’s a question. He’s looking at me dead in the eyes, probably watching my pupils dilate. I don’t think I can ever say no to that question, now that Iiterally have drunk-dialed him asking for sex. But I’m not going to admit it either. "Does it really matter?" Is the best I come up with, and he laughs at me in a short snort. I know he knows that was a lame attempt, but he ignores it. "Well, you know the feeling is mutual." He murmurs, and it makes my insides fuzzy. Such a handsome man being attracted to me physically is a confidence booster, but I also know the fact that I don’t take shit from him also plays a role in it. He likes that I'm not giving in. "You're only attracted to me because I resist you." I reply. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that why you're resisting me? So you can have me chasing you?” He asks, leaning closer to me and propping his chin on his fist. I am more phased by his words than his proximity. Am I enjoying the chase? I mean the only reason I’m not throwing myself at him is because I know when he finally gets me it’ll be over. Is that what's stopping me? Knowing there probably won't be a second time? Or is it the fact that I'll just be another rebelious woman he'd managed to tame?

“No.” I shake my head after thinking about it for too long. I mimic him, resting my head on the palm of my hand, my elbow right next to his. “Well, I’m not attracted to you because you resist me." He murmurs, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Sure.” “Let me get to my point." He prompts. Oh, whatever. 

"You're submissive, right?" He asks out of the blue, taking me by surprise. Excuse me? Rude!

 I immediately feel exposed, because I know he knows the answer to that question. I feel my face heat up. Where is he going with this? "Maybe." I reply, trying my hardest not to betray my panic. But I can’t bring myself to lie looking into his eyes, so I look away, earning another heartfelt chuckle. "Maybe, alright." He repeats. He sees right through me .To be fair, I am not putting the best act. I'm too easily read. I blush, I frown, I fidget, I play with my hair - I have the most telling body language and it hasn't helped me once in life. “What is your point, Mr.Jeon?” I ask, wanting to end the torture. "So when you find someone attractive, you tend to let them take control and bring you pleasure." He trails off. I nod in agreement, still unsure where this is going.  "But it doesn't mean you're weak or dependent. You chose to be in that position because that's what brings you the most pleasure. In fact outside the bedroom you're a very opinionated woman and you get your way quite often." He adds. I'm still following at this point, but I know he's trying to get me somewhere I don't want to be. I repeat his words in my head a second time. I feel like I’m about to get tricked. "True." I agree reluctantly, knowing I probably shouldn't.  “See, you think I'm all about the challenge and keeping women who challenge me submissive and obedient, but I work differently." He explains. Oh, I’m sure he does. "Just like you being submissive doesn't mean you're dependent and passive, me wanting to pin you against a wall and do things to you has nothing to do with my respect for you or women in general." He murmurs. Pin me against a wall and do things to me?! I take a discreet but deep breath, watching as the corner of his mouth turns into a smirk when he realises I’m already imagining things. "What I'm trying to say is," He trails off, and I think I catch his pupils dilating as our eyes meet. "When I find someone attractive, I tend to hold down..." He says, his tone lower, his voice so seductive it sounds like a purr. "And bite..." He adds, bringing the tip of his index finger just under my ear. "And kiss..." I hold his gaze while he slowly runs it down the side of my neck, barely brushing my skin but letting me feel plenty. "And lick..." He stops at the  spot where my neck and shoulder connect, my hairs standing alert in the wake of his touch. His eyes don’t leave mine, intense and blazing. My libido is through the roof. I want him to do that again. Biting and kissing and licking... I’m not learning anything new here. I’ve always known this man was dominant and kinky. I’m not surprised, but he’s just so sexy. He oozes sex, he smells like sex, he looks like sex, it’s intoxicating. "Because that's what gives me the most pleasure." He adds, his voice feeling like butter. "But I also always have my partner's pleasure in mind. Sometimes more than my own." He says, barely hiding the promise in his words. He leans back as if to mark the ending of his monologue, and that’s when I realise I had stopped breathing. 

I feel dizzy and my cheeks are burning. "Well,”I sigh, reaching for my wine. “Your next conquest should consider herself lucky." I say, raising my glass in his honor, before throwing the entire thing back. I feel thirsty, and hot and bothered. "Yeah, you should." He retorts, making me splutter and almost choke on my wine. He laughs at me, his laugh loud and boyish, while I try not to spit wine all over myself. “You have no shame.” I say in wonder, shaking my head at his mirth. "What should I be ashamed of? Being attracted to you?" He retorts. "Being inappropriate." I reply, narrowing my eyes at him. What a tease. "You're smiling." He counters.  "It's better than you running from me." He murmurs, his words heavier than what he wants me to think. I don't think I'm running away as much as I used to. I went to dinner with him, and I'm here today. I'm still aware of the majo red flags he waved at me when we first met though. "You give me reasons to run." I argue. This man smells like trouble, and I'm hovering over a dangerous line but I'm confident in my capacity to protect myself. His gaze turns to playful to a little bit more serious. He looks pensive. "I was hoping it wasn't the case anymore." He says quietly, and he almost sounds disappointed by my answer. "I wouldn't be here if it was." I say to reassure him a little bit. "I'm glad to hear that." He smiles softly. Part of me doesn't want to make him too happy, but I guess I'll give him that.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He prompts, and I feel him getting even more serious than before.  

"We've never really talked about what happened with my brother." He trails off. Oh... 

Way to kill the mood. I feel myself stiffen instantly as the few memories I have of that night flash back to me.

"And again, I'm sorry for what happened." He says to me. He has told me before that his brother got the "wrong impression". And I would like, in order to start contemplating the idea of forgiving me, to know how in the hell he got that wrong impression. Because to me it is unjustifiable. Was it my dress? Nope. No matter how short it could have been, and it wasn't even short. My body language? Nah. The mere fact that we were drinking? Hell to the no.

"I have always wondered how he could possibly have thought I was going to have sex with him. That still doesn't sit right with me." I tell him honestly, because if he's asking me to forgive him for thinking anything I did led him on, I'll be gone before he even finishes his sentence. 

"He could tell I was attracted to you, and he knows I usually don't mind sharing." He explains to me. He doesn't mind sharing? Sharing women with his brother?!

 "And he was drunk." He adds while I try to precess this information. My face is a knot of confusion. He had threesomes with his brother? Why do I feel like there's something very incestuous about it? I'm effectively grossed out.

"You share your sexual partners with him?" I utter, unable to hide the judgment in my voice. He doesn't seem fazed by the horror on my face."If they both want each other I usually don't have a problem with it." He shurgs a shoulder. How is he so cool about this? Is it normal nowadays? Am I weird for finding it weird. I mean; obviously him and Eliott aren't blood brothers, and I don't think they have sex together per say, but they both participate in a sexual act at the same time! 

"So you-"

"Not threesomes, no." He cuts me off. Oh thank god! 

"Huh." I exhale.

Okay, so he just doesn't mind sleeping with the same woman as his brother. 

"So, hypothetically," I traill off. "If we were to sleep together- which we won't- you wouldn't -"

"I would be extremely possessive of you." He cuts me off, looking into my eyes with intent.

"Why?" I frown. He mimicks me, scrunching his eyebrows togetehr in a pensive manner. He's actually thinking about it.

"I'm not sure." He murmurs.  "I guess I just don't like the thought of anyone else bringing you pleasure." 

Okay? 

After processing this, a tiny part of my brain thinks this means something? That maybe I'm different? I shouldn't believe him that easily though, but if that's true, then I'm confused.

"Interesting..." I muse. I don't feel like elaborating on that. The implications are way too heavy for what I want this whole thing to be.

"But okay, let's say he thought you and I were having sex." I prompt, because his explaination isn't very satisfying yet. "What made him think I'd have sex with him?"

Mr.Jeon inhales deeply, visibly a little bit embarassed to speak. 

"His dumb ass thought bringing you over was what I meant by cheering him up after his breakup." He explains, and it dawns on me.

"He thought I was a bloody hooker." I conclude. He makes a face.

"Not quite. He did drink a lot before you came over too." He counters. Okay, his drunk ass thought I was a bloody hooker.

"Anyways. I hope you'll be able to forgive him one day. He's not a bad guy, just really dumb." He finishes. 

"Okay." I nod. I've heard him, but I don't knwo about forgiving his brother. Not because I'm still mad or anything, but because I can't this of an istance where I'll ever have too see him again. It's not liek he was about to become my brother-in-law.

"Thank you for explaining." I say before glancing at my wtach. I have been here for nearly two hours.

"But I do have to go now, Mr.Jeon." I declare. It's getting really late. “Oh, what a shame.” I hear him complain as I slide off my stool. "Thank you for the sushi." I murmur, looking up at him. "You're most welcome, Miss Fair." He replies, standing up I as well. I gather my stuff, putting my camera and sketchbook back in my bag and throwing my coat on. "I will make plans and sketches and get back to you to schedule another meeting." I explain to him once I'm ready to leave. "How long will that take?" "I think I'll be done in a week or two." "That's a long time without seeing each other." He mutters, scratching his chin in a pensive manner. I raise a curious eyebrow. "Now I'm thinking we're only doing this so you can talk me into sleeping with you." I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "Miss Fair, I would never." He gasps dramatically. Yes you would. I narrow my eyes at him. "No, seriously. This house means a lot to me, and I don't share this part of my life with that many people." He says more seriously, but I still think he could be doing this to get his dick wet. "Would you mind if I made you sign a contract, then?" I propose. He's all about NDA's and shit, right? "A contract?" "Yes." I concur. "So I'm guaranteed to get my fifteen percent." I explain. I don't want to dive into this and then leave the project like last time. If he ever fucks up to the point where I don't want to see him, we can still do everything via e-mail. Hott buttocks aside, this project is really exciting. He frowns down at me for a second, but is quick to shrug a shoulder. "As you wish." He concedes. "I should make you sign it before I actually start putting in the work." I muse. "I'll be out of town for a few days, I leave on Wednesday." He warns. "I'll e-mail it to you." "Or we could meet up and read it through together." He proposes. Of course he'd want that. "You're funny." I chuckle. "I'm not signing anything via e-mail." He declares. "Why?" I frown. "Don't know how that technology works." He shrugs. Now he's playing the age card? "How old are you?" I ask, realizing I still don't know how old he is. "I'm 21." He says. He keeps adding a year every time I ask him!  "But you build rockets." I deadpan. He smirks- fucking smirks at me. He's so handsome it's angering. "Then I'm not designing anything for you." I retort. "Is seeing me that much of a torture?" He asks with feigned disappointment. I take a moment to think. "Not anymore." I reply. "Not anymore?" He repeats, eyebrows meeting his hairline. "But still." "But still?" He frowns, looking offended. I giggle at his reaction. "I can throw food in the mix, we can meet during our lunch break." He proposes. "Our offices are very close." Oh, god. "I'll see what I'll do tomorrow." I concede, feeling like a straight no would be too mean of me. And I actually don't know I want to say no or not. I enjoy his company. "Just remember you have the power to make a man's day by saying yes." He murmurs, stepping closer to me, hands in his pockets. He looks yummy. "I'll keep that in mind." I murmur, looking up at him. "Good." He says quietly, holding my gaze. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in alert. Why am I still wearing clothes again? "Let me walk you back." He proposes after a beat. I accept, and Mr. Jeon escorts me out of the house. "We'll have to fix these stairs as well." I mumble, looking out for any rogue piece of rock about to make me fall. "You have carte blanche for the outside. I trust you." He replies. I don't think the outside -or at least the pathway, needs a lot of work. Just some brand new steps and green grass.

"Can't wait to get to it." I reply. He walks me down the stairs and back to my car.

"Thank you for your time, Ms Fair." He says as I stand next to my Mini, ready to unlock it.

"It was a pleasure." I reply, smiling at him. I open my door and slide into my seat.

"I'll be waiting for your text." He says, leaning down to my window, eyes small and playful. I giggle.

"I'm sure you will." I tease. "Goodbye, Mr. Jeon." 

"Goodbye, Miss.Fair."

[theyarebothgunshot]

ROSE I AM FREAKING OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE PREQUEL STUFF???? WHAT IS GOING ON, my god... I was literally about to go to sleep, decided to check Tumblr one last time and see this.... what WHAT!! WHATTTT!!!!!! I don't even know if this is good bad or what but just JENSEN IS PRODUCING A SUPERNATURAL PREQUEL AND DEAN'S GONNA BE THE NARRATOR OR Sth LIKE???? -🐸

YEAH i am normal about this <3 (jk i am also freaking out) welcome to: people screaming to me in my inbox about prequelgate ft. j/2 fallout theory. let's goooo!

Another copypasta and suddenly chaos machine is full on gay I love this prophecy

you know whats funny i just checked the j/2 tag and i feel like for the first time in a long time they are starting to realise that maybe THEY should be the ones who are "gutted" *sips tea*

ROSE HOLY SHIT ROOOOOOOOSE ITS HAPPENING HOLY SHIIIIIT

YEAH

Nevermind just read prequel and well good luck I guess but just you know kind of bleh who wants to watch John Winchester well let’s have hope anyways

i know a lot of people are bummed out but i am kind of very excited actually?? i trust robbie and even though yeah j*hn winchester turned into a nasty abusive bastard, it can be interesting to explore how it all started (imo). it's just the first of many stories they can tell.

I can only accept this circus if it’s Dean telling the stories to his and Cas’ kids and then we have a revival to show that the whole finale was in fact the end Chuck wanted there Jensen I fixed it

i would not say no to this

heyloo bee anon here

um- wtf is happening?

jackles prequel series?? why? i want to be excited about this but sheesh im scared

because supernatural is never dead <3

okay, but, jensen... john winchester ≠ jdm, you don’t have to go /that/ hard for him 🙃

true true... though i am waiting for jdm to comment on this, please i need it

WAIT A SECOND J2 FALLOUT THEORY TRUE??

LMAO HELL YEAH BESTIE

Rose you really picked the worst time to sleep for real

bestie it was literally 4 in the morning, what do you expect from me sdfjsfhsf

I can’t literally can’t we were all right LMAO j2 fallout theory is real and cockles (Misha supporting Jensen) is [gunshots] I’m just laughing cause what the hell is this timeline we’re living LMAOOOOOOOOOO

we would always end up here <3

Do we have the copypaste anons to thank for JP basically confirming the J2 fallout? lol 🦚

yes, everybody say 'thanks annoying idiots!'

ROSE, WAKE UP, COME HERE,

THERE'S A LOT GOING ON FFS

YEAH I KNOW BUT I NEEDED SLEEP

Anticipating that there's going to be a lot of yelling about the prequel on here: I am cackling, but also, I mean, the first time Dean got a look into his parent's past, Cas was the catalyst: literally entered Dean's mind and catapulted him to the 70s. So idk, it's not completely unreasonable to expect some Cas cameos, maybe setting up a parallel timeline since Dean is narrating. What I'm saying is, this is Jackles, he's getting JDM and Misha in on this lmao -Honeymoon Anon

you were right lmfaooo also i fully agree. misha's tweet further cemented that thought for me. he knew about this prequel and i dont think he is cas-baiting us, i think he'll be involved. i'd also be obsessed to see jensen and jdm act together again (though idk who jdm could play seeing as it's a prequel and he is way too old to play young j*hn)

longlivethetribbles heeft gevraagd:

Heyyyyyy bestie, are you SEEING the absolute madness going on right now holy shit

well a little late but I SURE AM BESTIE

bestie wake up pls s16 finale just dropped.

- 🍯

and WHAT a great one it was

I love coming home from work to see all of the chaos unfolding on Tumblr and Twitter. I'm absolutely buzzing right now. I'll probably still be here by the time you wake up and check tumblr 😂 - 🐢

lmaooo and were you still awake?? did you see my freak out??

Oooh bestie wake the fuck up, I know you’re gonna be excited for this one jsnsjsj

god i had SUCH a morning like. it's 12:00 now and all i did since i woke up is check tumblr rip

short summary: jen and dee gain the rights, they post on ig/twitter about a prequel ft john and mary that no one asked for, the fandom loses its everloving shit as usual, they trend on twitter thanks to the beloved twt intern who missed us, misha qt’s jen about cas possibly benefiting from being in the prequel, then j*red qt’s jensen abt how his feelings got hurt by him not being told about a prequel his character as no involvement in & he initially throws a tantrum, and the rest is history - 🦋 anon (ps: i hope this helps a little, i’ve been scattered brained trying to keep up with it all night lmao so pls let me know if i missed anything, bug crew !!)

thank you so much darling i figured it out eventually but this is a helpful summary!!!

I hope you enjoyed waking up to all of this XD -🐢

i sure did!!! also that answers my question about you being awake lmao

I WILL NEVER EVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR SLEEPING THROUGH ALL OF THIS DRAMA AND NOT EXPERIENCING IT IN PERSON I DIDN'T NEED THIS SLEEP - tea anon

well the party was still going strong this morning so im not TOO "gutted" see what i did there lmaooo

Now that you are caught up with the news... So idk if you remember this but...didn't jarpad tell jackles he was up for a reboot in an online panel? And jackles answered that this was news to him??

-🍯

yeah i think you are right but he was clearly joking and didnt expect jackles to actually be working on something already

J2 anon spare more of those anons let's finish this - tea anon

please, we're having a ball in this bitch

I saw a post on tumblr where someone said now that Kripke gave J&D the rights, maybe they’re starting with a prequel just to end on a reboot in years time and honestly ? I wanna believe that so badly. This is tinhatty but what if this is all calculated in a way that makes it so that Jensen is slowly starting to fix everything that was wrong with spn - now that he has the rights and he’s slowly making spn his own story ?! I mean he did say in his ig post he wants to ‘fill in the rest’ - and maybe Mary and John’s story is only the beginning of spn related content from J&D to come ??? Maybe he wants to give spn the justice it deserves ?? Thoughts ??

i dont think this is tinhatty at all i think this is very possible and not that much of a reach. i could see this happening yeah for sure

want to hear something funny. I found out I had a ruptured blood vessel in my eye because I was sending my friend a video freaking out when the prequel news dropped and I noticed the corner of my eye was red af. and when I got back online jared had tweeted.

DJFHSJD ANON THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, HELP, are you okay? <3

rose.. bestie... how are you feeling about The News? nsfshsf being european is a curse </3 🐞

i feel GREAT im living for it i feel on top of the world tbh (and yeah it really is dsjfhs)

What am I waking up to I can't WHAT I rested my eyes for like 5 minutes help *hits reblog button* - anon anon

yep yep essentially djfhs

“Jensen and Misha are Co workers who barley talk”

I can’t be sure of course but I’m fairly certain that this is the copypasta that brought the j/2 fallout theory back to life. Who’s apparently ‘barely talking’ now? skansjsjsj. It’s almost prophetic, these j/2 anons have superpowers I’m telling ya.

-poker face anon

next time we get one of them we should be thanking them lmaooo

ok, but are we gonna talk about the "When Daneel and I formed Chaos Machine Productions, we knew that the first story we wanted to tell was the story of John and Mary Winchester [...]"-quote because the way this is phrased implies they formed CHAOS MACHINE Productions with the intent of telling this story (first), i haven't been in this dumpster long enough but the name just tickles me in that Misha way, isn't it so sus??? am i missing something???? i mean with this announcement they SURE lived up to that name... 🧩-anon

you are absolutely right, chaos machine SCREAMS misha and we are all here for it!!

hey hey hey. joining the clownverse, there's no way THEE cas girl danneel doesn't know just how much the fandom loves misha and cas. so 2 + 2 = misha in the spn prequel!

AGREED

So I think I finally managed to catch up on wtf happened while I was asleep and my brain melted. What a shit show to wake up to.

Anyway thoughts.

I don't hate the idea of a Mary&John sequel. I think it has the potential to be good (It has the potential to be really bad too, so I'm kind scared).

🕯️🕯️🕯️ manifesting Mary being badass and John being kinda useless🕯️🕯️🕯️

As for the Jensen and J*red thing.

I can see Jensen not telling J*red even if they are still friends, because J*red is kinda good at accidentally telling Secrets. He could have told him right before he announced it so, so that J*red didn't have to find out from twitter. He was on the show for 15 years, he is bound to get asked about it. The public twitter meltdown was really unprofessional so. Like you have Jensen's number J*red. You could have sorted that out in private like a normal person, but instead you choose to act like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Is it weird that I'm actually going to be kinda that for them if the actually had a falling out, even tho I don't like J*red all that much. They seemed to be really important to each other and while I thought before that the might have triefted apart a bit, I didn't think that the where actively fighting.

- 🐌 anon

the thing is, the polite/normal thing for jensen to do was text him before announcing it on twitter. it's weird he didn't, and that makes me believe that maybe yeah they did have a falling out. especially with the way j*red responded to it on twitter. if he had no other reason to be this upset (no prior beef or falling out) you'd think that he wouldn't be responding like this. on the other hand, the man is a mysterie to me so who the hell knows. i'm not gonna mourn about it if they did/do grow apart because j*red is just.... awful imo.

[theymetinargentina]

All that is and All that Can Be / H.S. - Chapter 1

Authors Note: Hello! This is the first chapter in a series I’m writing about Harry Styles and his wife, Rose, who is a journalist. The story will be set in both present day and past events. There will be lots of angst and fluff:) Hope you enjoy and stick around for future chapters. My inbox is always open so feel free to drop by and say hello<3 Any feedback or comment is greatly appreciated!!!

Moodboard

My Other Work

Summary: Harry and Rose have an important conversation about the future. Mainly an introduction chapter:)

Warnings: Smut, anxiety

Word Count: 2k

**********************************

Each day I woke and felt this heavy feeling in my chest, like what I had wouldn’t be mine for much longer. I couldn’t explain why I felt this way. Everything was fine, sure we had our moments-doesn’t every couple?-but it never even reached a level where I felt I had to worry about our standing. Of course, I wondered if it was me, was I the problem in my life?

“You’re starring again.”

“What?” I snapped out of my daydream- was it really a daydream or a nightmare?

“What’s been with you? Every time we sit down your mind is somewhere else.” I couldn’t help but notice the slight annoyance in his voice, yet I couldn’t blame him. If he suddenly became distant and hardly acted like himself, I would probably cause hell.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong. It might be my new medicine but I’m not sure.”

“I wish I could help. You know, sometimes I think it’s me. Like you’re getting tired of me-”

“Oh my god Harry it’s not that, I swear. I love you, I promise it has nothing to do with you. I wish you could help too but I can’t even manage to help myself.” I say sadly.

It was a white lie. Not knowing what was wrong. Of course, I knew. I just didn’t know how to tell him. How do you tell your husband you got a new job in a different country? A country he was never exactly fond of. I knew, deep down, he would have no choice but to be okay with it. Yet, every time I wanted to tell him I felt this sudden rush of anxiety. What if he didn’t want to move and decided divorce was best? What if he grew to resent me and my career? I so badly wish we could stay in Italy, where we weren’t Rockstar Harry Styles and his Nobel Peace Prize-Winning Journalist Wife Rose. We lived a free and simple life here, with no cameras. Sure we ran into fans, but they were always kind. Harry and I loved it here, it’s where we took our honeymoon and decided we liked it enough to stay. He knew when we got married that my job was based in New York. We both did, but it worked there was never any trouble. The only thing that has changed is the promotion I received. A chance to be the Editor of the newspaper I work for.

“Maybe we should take a trip to visit some friends and family. Just to get away from our work and explore a bit.” He smiled at me, I smiled back and thought what a time if ever to finally tell him. Most of my family and friends are in New York.

“Can we talk about something?” I can hear the shakiness in my voice. He chuckles and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask baby.” Hearing him be so kind, calling me baby, is almost too much. Because I’m gonna make him move from the place he loves so much. I feel my eyes fill with water and I take a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong, I can’t imagine anything you’re gonna say is that upsetting.” He places his hand on my back and starts rubbing my back.

“I got a promotion at work, they asked me to become an editor,” I say tearfully.

“That’s amazing, why are you crying? This is so wonderful baby.” He has the biggest smile on his face and he’s slightly bouncing in his seat, but I know what I’m gonna say next is gonna stop all of it.

“But they said I have to be in New York for it.” I look up and see he still has his eyebrows raised like he doesn't understand why I’m still crying.

“And…..?” he has a questioning tone. He’s stopped smiling but his soft pink lips are still slightly turned up.

“It means we, or I, have to move to New York.”

“It means WE do, we’re married.” He says almost defensively

“Yeah, like full time, we’d need to get a house and everything.”

“I still don’t get why you’re upset? We’ll get a house and we’ll be okay,” He breaths in, “Besides I think a new environment will be good for you, both of us, and you’ll be doing a job you’ve always dreamed about.” I can’t say I’m surprised he’s not more upset. He cares too much about the people he loves to be selfish. If he really wanted to he could say he didn’t want to move and I wouldn’t accept the promotion, but he won’t, I know he won’t because he loves too much.

I laugh and rub my red, wet eyes, “God I was so worried that you’d be upset or hate me-”

“Why would I ever hate you? We’re a team, you’ve traveled across the world for me, you left your home for me. I don’t think I have a lot of room to complain. I care about you too much, you know I would get on my hands and knees for you,” I get embarrassed and lower my head, he chuckles, “ ‘m serious, anything you want I’ll give it to you darlin’.”

I wonder all the time, but especially now, just how I got so lucky. I’ll never understand why the universe deemed me deserving of all the love I have received and continue to receive. I feel so blessed to be the one on the other end of his love. Growing up, I never imagined myself going through life with someone else, someone who loved me so much it made me want to burst with happiness. I look at him with dry tears on my face and mouth ‘thank you’. He smiles, a genuine, bright smile, and gets up to walk toward the backdoor. I follow and immediately the fresh air filled with flowers blooming hits me. Oh, how lucky I am.

Immediately out the back door of the villa, we call home is a small patch of assorted flowers. Roses, Sunflowers, violets, and tulips. I argued against the roses, but Harry refused to pass up the irony in it. It’s early spring so they are barely being to bloom. When we first moved in, I had mentioned-off-handly- how lovely it would be to have a garden. And not even a week later, I woke to him outside, planting flowers in a neat patch. He looked angelic. In the sun, a light amount of sweat on his hairline, squinting getting his hands dirty for me. If it was even possible I fell more in love, and I still fall in love each and every day.

“I never want you to feel like my career is more important than yours,” he mentioned quietly. He was looking out toward the setting sun but had a relaxed look on his face.

“I know, I just never want you to be unhappy, especially with how much we both travel. I’m willing to give some things up,” I say quietly. It’s true I would be more than willing to turn down the promotion if he asked if he made it clear he would rather stay in our home.

“But you don’t have to,” he breathes coming up to me and holding my face in his hands gently, “Yes, I fuckin’ love it here. But it means nothing if you pass up the opportunities you want.” I look at him and simply nod because I don’t know what else to say. “Everything will be alright, I promise.” He kisses my forehead and steps down toward the table we had set up near the patch of flowers, it was placed strategically so we could sit outside in the evening and watch the sunset. Today, Harry brings out a shirt he has been meaning to finish embroidering, while I decide to use the watercolor paints Gemma had bought me as a Christmas present.

Our evenings are filled with silence more times than not. It isn’t the uncomfortable suffocating silence, where you feel anger thick in the air between you two. No, it’s a silence shared between two people who are so completely comfortable with each other, who don’t feel the need to fill each second with noise. It stems from relationships that are built on empathy and love for one another.

✩✧♥⁂☀☁⁎☽

“Oh fuck, right there….” I let out a breathy moan as Harry sets a slow but deep pace. I look behind and see his head is tipped back, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He’s letting out short pants. The air in the room is thick with the smell of our arousal and the breathy pants we both let out.

“Shit, you’re so goddam tight, ‘s so warm and snug around me……” He hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of me that has my arms collapsing underneath me. I moan loudly as I fill each vein and ridge pulse inside me. He grabs me and pulls me up against his chest, with one hand around my neck and the other gripping my hip, he pounds into me. His fingers are holding onto my hip so hard I know there will be a bruise, it’ll go with the rest that litter my thighs and legs.

He grips my jaw and presses his lips against my ear, grunting into it. I know he’s close because I can feel his rhythm falter. “ ‘m so close baby,” he sounds so close to tears and for some reason, it makes me just want to please him, give him the release he desperately needs.

“Come for me, Harry, please…..god I need it,” When he snaps his hip I let out a small yelp, “I need to feel you, feel how much you love me.” Those words, the ones that let him know he can show his love for me, sends him over the edge and I feel his thick, hot cum spill inside me. He moans a breathy light moan. And that sound alone makes me cum, I clench tightly around him and whimper. He’s still holding onto me while we both try to catch our breaths.

I know he won’t pull out right away because he prefers to go soft inside me. I don’t mind it, there’s something so intimate about it. He gently pushes me onto my stomach while he tries not to crush me.

“My darlin’,” he chuckles, “I love you so, so much.”

“I know Harry,” I smile sweetly at him, “I know, and I love you so, so much more.”

He gives me another goofy grin and pulls his soft member out slowly. I let out a low hiss that empty feeling. As I walk to the bathroom to get cleaned up, the phone in the living room rings loudly. We both groan, hating being disturbed.

“You should probably go get that,” I smirk at him. He gets up and playfully throws a ‘fuck you’ before he heads to the living to see what disturbed our otherwise peaceful night.

I look at myself in the mirror and notice the plethora of small purple bruises that spread over my thighs. At least he didn’t attack my neck, I chuckle. As I grab my face wash and began rubbing it to rid my face of the sweat that accumulated during our activity, Harry walks into the room with his head down.

Somehow I knew, I just knew. Really, there was no way I could know, nothing that night or any of the previous nights would be any clue to what I would find out. It seems silly saying it but the connection we had, made it easy to know when something was wrong with either one of us. And in that moment, in the stuffy bedroom of our home, I knew my world had fallen.

[spookysanta]

The TA. - one. (c.e, h.c.)

Summary: she just wants to make a good impression. clearly, she’s made more of an impression on the two of them.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: swearing

updates will be sporadic because it’s a wip, but here’s part one! enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

****

 To Whom it May Concern:

Good morning. My name is Dr. Christopher R. Evans and I’ll be your supervising professor for section D346-0 of Chemistry class for the Fall semester. I’m sending you this e-mail to introduce myself as well as get to know you a bit before classes start next week. Would you be willing to meet me in my office (Franklin Hall, 3210) this Wednesday at around 3 p.m.? I’d like to go over the syllabus as well as your requirements as my TA.

Please let me know if that time works well for you.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,

Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

(310) 555-3984

  *** 

Professor Evans:

Good morning! It’s nice to hear from you. I was in the process of getting your contact information to introduce myself. Thank you for taking me on as your TA, also—I appreciate that you’re giving me a chance. I’ll avail myself on Wednesday to meet with you at 3 p.m., I don’t want to change your schedule on my behalf. I can also provide you with my class schedule if you’d like so that you have my availability when you need to meet with me.

I’m excited to be working with you this semester!.

 Best,

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

  ***

“Hi, my name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Is Dr. Evans around?” She entered the lecture hall, approaching the podium where another professor was packing up her things. “I’m his new TA.”

“Yes, his office is through that door. Go in, make a left, and it should be the first door on your right.” The professor instructed, “He should be in there.”

“Okay. Thank you, ma’am!” she hurried across the room and pushed through the door, following the professor’s instructions and finding his classroom much easier than she had initially. She knocked on the door to his office. “Dr. Evans?”

“Come in.”

She opened the door slowly. She found him at his desk, typing on a computer. He paused for a moment, looking up toward the doorway with a small smile.

“Hi. You must be (Y/N).” he stood and crossed the small room stalking over to her and offering his hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you as well, Dr. Evans.” She shook his hand eagerly. This was her first professional job, and well…it’s helpful to have him as her boss.

Mainly to look at, but that’s beside the point.

“Oh, please. You can call me Chris.” He waved her off politely. “It’s just you and I here.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

He made his way back to his seat behind the desk. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down tightly with her hands flattened under her thighs—she’s a picker.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head tightly. “Nothing.”

He noticed that her face read differently than her words were saying. She looked almost uncomfortable, unsettled. “Are you sure?”

“This is just my first TA job so I’m a bit nervous,” She was almost hesitant to tell him the truth. She rushed out, “hopefully that doesn’t compromise my position.”

“Not at all! In fact, I think this is one of the easier classes to TA for, but maybe I’m biased.” He chuckled. “So, with that said, let’s go over your requirements. Hopefully I can put your mind at ease, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled politely, trying to make herself relax but failing because Dr. Evans—Chris—was quite different that was she thought he would be. He was tall, built, and had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen.

She’d assumed that he would look like Ebenezer Scrooge from the way her friends said he ran his class. By their record, he was a strict guy—very unwavering with deadlines and course policies, sticks to his syllabus schedule, assigns a ton of work, and has an even stricter attendance policy.

But they also said he was nice, which was hard to come by with professors in this field. They could tell he was a good person deep down and liked what he taught but he was a hard ass.

And by her analyzation, that was true.

His desk was quite neat and polished; it smelled of air freshener in the room; there weren’t any papers scattered about—which she was thankful for, because she cannot work with people who were unorganized—and, most notably, there weren’t any kind of photos hanging up. It was hard for her to determine whether he was a bachelor, or a married father that just kept things private.

Not that it mattered…but she wanted to know.

“So,” he turned one of his monitors to face her so that she could see his screen. “here’s the syllabus. It seems like a lot, but I swear, it isn’t.” he chuckled.

She hummed in response, beginning to read the lengthy document in her head as he spoke.

“Basically, your job will be to help me grade quizzes, labs, exams, and other assignments. You’ll also be required to proctor exams; I have another TA, Henry—he’s a graduate student—that will come in on exam days and proctor with you.”

She thought for a moment. “So, if I may ask, what will you do?”

“Teach the class.”

“Well, I know that. I just meant…it seems like a lot for me to do, and I’ve heard about some professors on campus having their TAs run the class.”

“Oh! Definitely not. Look, you seem great, and I have a feeling we’d get on well, but there’s a specific way I want my material taught so that’s not something you’d have to worry about.” He reassured her, noticing her body begin to relax. “What I will say, is there is a lot of content in my class, but the major graded assignments are few and far between, if that makes you feel better.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“The class is mostly lab-based. You’ll be grading lab prep work, mostly—then comes the occasional homework or quiz, and exams.”

“Oh, okay. That makes more sense.”

He nodded. “Good.”

He scrolled down further into the document, showing his class policies.

“Now, these, I can’t break on.” He sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m a strict guy.”

“What?” she replied incredulously. “No!”

He wanted to laugh. He could tell she was analyzing him, and she had to have heard something about him before the two of them met. “Well, it’s because a lot of the precautions are for the safety of us and the students.”

She scanned a random sentence on the page that read:

Students are required to be fully clothed on lab days—no t-shirts, ripped clothing, or closed-toed shoes.

10 points will be deducted for wearing clothing that does not meet the above dress requirement. More than one violation on the lab dress requirement will result in a deduction from the LAB grade.

Yikes, she thought, he’s not joking around.

She found it understandable nonetheless—she imagines it would be difficult to have a completely safe lab in a stuffy room while it’s still hot outside.

And she’s heard that a lot of the laboratories on his side of campus don’t have air conditioning, which was quite unfortunate this time of year.

“The dress policy is the most heavily enforced one.” He shrugged. “I can’t be held liable for students’ recklessness during labs.”

“Has the dress code been an issue previously?” she asked.

“Not for me, but I know it’s been one for the department, so I’m just tryin’ to keep my name off the “injury list”.”

She nodded in understanding.

“I think that’s pretty much it as far as the basics are concerned. I’ll send you a copy of my syllabus and calendar for the semester, as well as your contract.” He turned the monitor to face him again, typing quickly on his keyboard. “Oh! And I should send you Henry’s information, too.”

“Who’s Henry again?”

“Henry is a graduate TA. I’ve had him in my classes for a couple of years, and he’s a great student. I think he worked in the library over the summer, so you may know him.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, he’s a great person to know, not just for my class, but for your upper-level math and science classes.” He gushed. Clearly, he really liked having this “Henry” as an assistant.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Great. And if you have any questions, shoot me an e-mail or a text and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Alright.” She replied simply.

He stood, holding out his hand again. “I’m looking forward to working with you this semester, (Y/N).”

She took his hand, this time relishing in the softness of his skin and the firmness in his grip. “I am, too.”

**

Later that day, after she’d completed the last assignments for her summer math class, she checked her e-mail’s inbox and found two messages from Chris and another from Henry, the godsend of a grad student.

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I hope this message finds you well.

Attached is my syllabus and class calendar, as well as your contract.

Please read through all of these. Sign the contract when you’re ready and e-mail it back to me at your earliest convenience.

Regards,

Chris

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I meant to send you Henry’s information as well:

                Henry W. D. Cavill

                Phone: 316-555-2015

                E-mail: hwdc@northeastern.edu

Please message him at your earliest convenience. Like I said, he’s a great person to know!

Regards,

Chris

**

 She replied a quick “thank you” before continuing through her inbox.

***

From: Henry W. D. Cavill

Hi, (Y/N)! It’s nice to “meet” you, I’m Henry.

Chris has told me that you’re the new undergrad TA! That’s pretty impressive, honestly—you’re one of four undergraduate TAs in the entire Sciences department. Anyway, I just wanted to send you this e-mail to introduce myself and let you know that if you need anything, I’m always available. I worked in the school’s library over the summer so if you need me immediately, that’s usually where I spend my free time nowadays.

I’m excited to work with you this semester! Maybe we could grab coffee and get to know each other better before classes start next week? Let me know.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Best wishes,

Cav

**

“Cav?” she read aloud in disgust, “What the hell kind of a nickname is “Cav”?” She hoped that he didn’t expect her to call him that because that was stupid.

At any rate, she could tell that he was much more laid back than Chris, which she was bound to enjoy. As nice as Chris was, she could tell that he was a bit…uptight. Henry, on the other hand, seemed more laid back if she used “Cav” as a form of evidence.

She could tell that he was a bookworm, too, because no-one—no-one she knew, at least—stays in the library unless they had to, or just liked reading.

Clearly he was a different breed.  

She opened a new message to send a quick reply to his.

**

 To: Henry W.D. Cavill

Hi, Henry.

It’s nice to hear from you as well. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you!

I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you want to meet at The Bistro for coffee.

Let me know if that works for you.

Best,

(Y/N)

**

 There. Sweet and simple.

Don’t be confused, either—she wanted this position. It would open some doors for her down the line, especially if she can get on Chris’ good side like Henry clearly has. She just hated formalities. The emails, the “talk to you soon! ”s, the “hope you’re well! ”s… it was too high-strung for her.

She is, though, determined to start everything on a good foot. So she’ll be polite, she’ll wish them well, whatever—she just wanted to ensure that her success as an undergrad student wouldn’t be hindered or jeopardized by her desire to be casual with who’s really her boss and co-worker.

**

The next day, she mustered up the courage to throw on clothes and meet Henry at The Bistro, a café in the main square of the campus. She decided to dress nice, not entirely sure who she was meeting and wanting to make a good impression. Because “Cav” seemed like a decent guy, but you never know.

Honestly, she wanted to cancel but she knew that wouldn’t look good.

She stepped through The Bistro’s doors, the cold air practically smacking her in the face. Normally she would despise the cold, especially on a day like this where it wasn’t too hot and not at all humid; but today, she was grateful for the cold air that enwrapped her frame that was dressed in a black blazer and matching slacks.

She sent a message to Henry letting her know that she was there and sat at a table by the window.

Then she waited.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty.

After forty minutes passed, she gathered her tote, phone, and keys, and made her way to the front door.

Before she could get to the door, a figure bumped into her, her body colliding with his hard chest. “Oh, shit, sorry!” the mass of flesh exclaimed, “I’m running late for a meeting and I didn’t watch where I was going.”

Her eyes met his as she took a step back. He was tall. His long brown hair was brushed behind one ear, cheeks flushed and pale, brown eyes wide.

He was cute.

“Wait,” she replied, “are you Henry?”

“Yeah…so?”

“So?” she glared at him. “I’m (Y/N).”

His eyes widened even more, as if that were possible. “Oh! I’m so sorry I’m late. My car broke down and I ended up having to walk here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But listen, if you’re still free, I’d love to still talk with you.”

She didn’t have anywhere to be, so why not? “Sure.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat down at the table she picked, him slugging his shoulder bag off his body and onto the floor next to him. He folded his hands on the table and looked at her, watching as she fumbled through her bag for her planner and a pen.

“So,” he started, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You, too.” She replied, her eyes not looking up.

“I’m usually the only TA in Chris’ class, so it’s really cool to have someone else around. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be the only one proctoring an exam in a class of three-hundred people.”

“Three-hundred people?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s less, but that’s the average. It’s full of freshmen, too.”

She finally found her planner and a pen in the depths of her bag. “Are freshmen bad?”

He shook his head, “Not really, they’re just…odd.” He shrugged. “Some of them want to learn, some don’t, and you can tell right away. The ones that want to learn don’t want help—it’s always the procrastinators, the slackers, the ones that don’t care that need you.”

“How is that odd?”

“It’s strange to me, honestly. I didn’t really care either way my freshman year. I wanted to learn but I didn’t care enough to actually try.”

“So what changed? Chris made you seem like you were some mythical being.”

He laughed. She’ll admit, she was lost in his smile for a second. The glint in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose made her smile. “A mythical being?” he repeated. “I’m far from mythical. I think he gushes about me because I take over his office hours for him most days.”

That made her laugh. “Well, he seems to be appreciative of having you around. Hopefully I can be helpful.”

“I’m sure you can be,” he waved her off, “he probably told you that his class wasn’t that bad, but he’s totally lying. My first year helping him was rough—too much shit to do, and not enough time for it to get done.”

That sounded more accurate compared to what Chris told her yesterday. “I figured.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great professor, and an awesome mentor to have—but sometimes he downplays stuff. He’ll say it’s “no big deal”, and it’ll be like Armageddon for us.”

She nodded slowly. “Any advice for getting on his good side?”

He chuckled. “If he likes you, you’ll know. And if he likes you, he’ll help you out. He’s not at all unreasonable, either; so just tell him what’s up when you have a problem, or if you’re overwhelmed, and he’ll do what he can to help.”

“That’s not what I heard.” She mumbled.

“Well, his students from last year will say he’s a dick, but—and you can’t tell anyone I told you this—” he leaned in closer, whispering, “he went through a nasty divorce last fall.”

So he isn’t married.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t in the best place, but I’ll admit he’s eased up quite a bit so you should be fine.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

She thought for a moment. “Not really, no.”

He smiled again, “Alright. Well it was great talking with you, and I’m sorry again for being late.”

She shrugged, “Shit happens.”

“You’re exactly right. The meter maids are probably having a field day giving me tickets.” He stood from the table, putting his bag over his shoulder that was covered in a dark green jacket, brushing his hair behind his ears and away from his face.

She stood shortly after he did. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, trust me, it wouldn’t be anything new for me to have a ticket by now. I’ve gotten five since May.”

Her eyes widened this time. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. The parking on campus is shit, you get in where you can. Open parking spaces are scarce, especially by Franklin Hall…so sometimes I park on the street.”

Street parking is decal only. By the number of tickets he’d obtained, she deduced that he most likely had no decal. “Hence all the tickets.” She finalized.

“Yeah.”

“Criminal.” She shook her head jokingly.

“Guilty as charged.” He held out his wrists to her as if she was putting him in handcuffs. “See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then he turned and left, moving quickly down the pavement.

—

Tags (dm to be removed): @lady-x-red @justtwhst @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate @cyberdoshee @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

[adiwriting]

(gif by @darlingnotso​ <3 )

@arielana​ requested: I would love to see them actually talk about some of the moments from previous seasons that hurt or were awkward when they happened, for example ”ends with a whimper” or ”tortured lust/sup bro” (or anything else, so much tension to choose from). Not as a fight, but instead when they are cuddled up together, feeling safe, able to have a soft conversation about how they both felt and to comfort each other, realizing how far they have come, maybe able to tease each other about it even.

As always, prompts for this verse are open. Drop them in my inbox or message me  - anon is off for the time being while I wait for some hate to die down, but if you message me and want the request to remain anon, just say so and I will honor your privacy always <3 

PSA: As I stated last week, I will be putting money towards the Navajo Nation COVID-19 Relief Fund every time that I post Malex fic. If you are willing and able to help, feel free to donate as well, every small bit helps. My friend @michaels-blackhat​ also made an excellent post of other ways to help if you are unable to do so financially. 

Week 15

Alex sits between Michael’s legs on the chaise, leaning against his back as he drinks his morning coffee. The dogs are running around the yard, distracted for a change, giving them a quiet moment to themselves. Like they used to have before they adopted four dogs at once and their house had become complete chaos. Lovable chaos, a chaos that they both thrive under, but still chaos. 

“The garden looks great,” Alex comments. “Good job, babe.” 

Michael nuzzles his nose into his neck, his breath tickling Alex in the most delightful way. “Thanks, I’m thinking about building the dogs a playhouse next,” he says softly, leaving a trail of kisses. “It’s nice to have a yard.” 

“It’s nice to have somebody to tend to the yard,” he says, tilting his head to provide Micheal with greater access in his explorations. 

He’s stopped questioning all of Michael’s multiple projects a while ago. Alex just loves that he’s been making their house a home for them both. Something that’s uniquely both of theirs. It’s everything he’d hoped for when he’d bought this house. He’d been naive then and thought their path back together would be smooth. That the moment he showed up with open arms, Michael would be there waiting for him. 

Looking back, that hadn’t been fair. But Alex is glad that, despite everything, they’ve still managed to make it back to each other. 

He takes another sip of his coffee, smiling at the caramel Bailey’s that Michael had spiked it with. They’ve got nowhere to be today and it’s the perfect excuse to day drink. They’ve both had a long week between work and the latest alien drama and they deserve to spend the day doing nothing but lounging around. 

“I will happily tend to your yard whenever it’s needed,” Michael says. “Gotta make sure everything’s pristine in case Mrs. Register decides to call HOA on us again.” 

Alex freezes at the words and Michael immediately takes notice, stopping his kisses and pulling away to watch his face.

“It’s our yard,” he says carefully. 

They haven’t talked about this. Not really. Alex has been too nervous to mess up their domestic bliss with a potentially difficult conversation. After all, Michael is sleeping here every single night. It hardly seems important to get caught up on the semantics of it all. 

Except hearing Michael say ‘your’ instead of ‘our’ has a wave of panic moving through him and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t know why. 

Michael smiles at him and leans in to kiss him, but Alex pulls away before he can. 

It’s not the first time Michael has said something like this to him. Each time Alex has allowed Michael to kiss him and change the subject, brushing it away like it doesn’t matter. This time, though, it matters. 

Alex takes a deep breath, summoning all of his courage and prays he’s not about to ruin things between them. “Why do you always tell people you don’t live here.” 

“Um…” Michael looks away, shifting in his seat. Alex scoots back and sits on the edge of the chaise so that they can look at each other properly. “Because I don’t?” 

The words sting and Alex’s immediate impulse is to push back. To come back with biting words of his own and retain some power in the conversation. But those are old habits that got them nowhere in life, and they’ve both been working actively on doing better. He swallows down several mean and unhelpful retorts, before it processes in his mind that Michael isn’t looking at him with any spite.

Michael is playing with the fraying hem of his sweatpants. His shoulders are squared like he’s ready for war, but his eyes tell a different story. He’s nervous and insecure. He’s not preparing to go to battle, he’s bracing himself for bad news. 

Alex scoots closer and reaches out to place his hand on top of Michael’s. “You’re going to ruin those sweatpants if you keep pulling on that thread.” 

Michael looks up at him, and while he doesn’t reach out for Alex, he doesn’t stop Alex when he reaches to hold his hand properly with one hand, and threads his fingers through his hair with the other. In fact, he leans into the touch. 

“I consider this place as much yours as it is mine,” he says, knowing that Michael has to feel the same, at least to some degree. After all, he’s spent the last 3 months making this place into a home that works for both of them. Taking complete ownership of all the upgrades. 

Or maybe Alex was wrong. Maybe the fact that Michael has been constantly working to remodel the house is because he doesn’t feel at home here. There’s a twisting feeling in his gut that used to send him running for the hills, but he doesn’t do that anymore. He doesn’t run away from hard things. 

“You never asked me to move in with you,” Michael says pointedly. 

Alex snorts, dropping his hand from Michael’s hair. “That’s because you already live here. All of your things are here—”

“Not all of them,” he interrupts, defensively. 

Alex just keeps going. “And you already sleep here every night.” 

“That’s because it’s easier for you to move around here than the airstream with your crutches and all,” he argues. “Plus, the dogs need a fenced-in yard.”

“Michael,” Alex says, seriously. He waits a moment or two before Michael meets his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to move in with me because you were already here every night. It didn’t seem necessary.” 

“Is that the only reason?” he asks. 

Michael stares at him and it’s moments like this that he’s convinced Michael has the same psychic abilities as Isobel. He’s always able to see right through him. It was unnerving at first, but Alex has learned to appreciate it. He has somebody to call him on his bullshit. 

“I guess I was scared to ask because I didn’t want you to say no and lose all of this,” he admits. 

“Why would I say no?” Michael asks, not unkind but clearly confused. 

“Why would you say yes?” The words come out of his mouth faster than he can think and when he realizes what he’s just said, he’s positive that he’s just opened up a much bigger can of worms than simply a conversation about where Michael gets his mail delivered. 

Michael looks at him like he’s a dumbass. 

“Because I’m already here,” he says a fond smile growing slowly on his face. He tugs on Alex’s hand until he practically falls into Michael’s lap. They shift around until they are both comfortable, Alex with his head in Michael’s lap and Michael with his hands in Alex’s hair. 

“Does this ever feel temporary to you?” Alex asks, his voice barely a whisper, but Michael hears him just fine. 

“Like we’re living in a glass house?” he asks. Alex nods and Michael says, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” he asks, frustrated for the both of them. “We both know that we love each other.” 

Michael shrugs and leans his head back to look at the sky. “I guess I’ve never had anything permanent before. Or unconditional.” 

“You’ve had Max and Isobel,” he says. Alex’s own thoughts and feelings about Isobel and Max’s behavior towards Michael after Rosa died aside, Alex knows that they love their brother unconditionally. 

“Yeah, that’s different though,” Michael argues, and Alex almost misses it when he adds, “They’ve never left.” 

The defensive part of him nearly brings up the fact that Max died and left Michael to pick up the pieces, but that wouldn’t be fair nor would that help their relationship. They are supposed to be communicating. Alex has been working with his therapist on how to talk through his feelings without feeling the need to throw his walls up. 

“I’m not leaving,” is what he says instead, because it’s what Michael needs to hear.  

“I know,” Michael says quickly. 

“Do you?” he asks, watching Michael’s face carefully. 

“I do,” he says with a soft smile. “In my heart I do know that.” 

“But?” Alex asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Alex feels it sometimes, too. On his worst days when his insecurity gets the best of him, he starts questioning how long this can really last. 

“I guess it’s hard to trust that I’m worthy of it,” he says. 

Though it’s the answer that Alex expected, actually hearing the words shatters Alex’s heart. He knows that Michael has a laundry list of traumas that lead to him feeling insecure, but the fact that he’s contributed to that list actually breaks his heart. 

“I know that we never apologized for the things that happened before,” he says. 

Michael shakes his head. “We didn’t need to. We wiped the slate clean and promised to look forward together and do better.” 

“We did,” he says carefully, choosing his words wisely because he’s never been very good at conveying what he wants to say in a way that Michael can actually hear. “But maybe we should have talked about it first.” 

“Okay…” 

Michael squirms around in his seat like he wants to be done with this conversation, but his eyes tell a different story and that’s when Alex knows that he’s right. It had been easy when they first were getting together to just look ahead and stop keeping score. But pretending like they’ve never hurt each other in the past and aren’t perfectly capable of hurting each other again in the future if they aren’t careful was the easy answer. It allowed both of them to avoid a difficult conversation where they would have to face some pretty ugly truths about themselves. 

“You know all those times I walked away were never about you,” Alex tells him. 

“Weren’t they?” Michael says with a scoff. “You’re a decorated airman and I’m a criminal.” 

Alex sits up, angry at the words coming out of Michael’s mouth. 

“You’re not a criminal,” he says sharply. It doesn’t matter who is talking badly about Michael, even if it’s Michael himself — especially if it’s Michael himself — Alex is always going to get defensive. 

Michael gives him a knowing look and Alex deflates. “When I said that, I was out of line. I didn’t mean it.” 

“You meant it,” Michael says, eyes trained on the game of tug of war that Wendy and Peter are playing so he doesn’t have to look at Alex. 

“Maybe I did,” he relents. “But I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was just frustrated.” 

“With me,” Michael says, always so quick to confirm whatever self-deprecating narrative he tells himself and Alex hates that. 

“No, that what happened with my dad unraveled your entire future,” he argues. “I felt so guilty for the fact that you didn’t become some brilliant engineer. I was mad at myself that I let my dad destroy your life.”

“What happened in that tool shed didn’t destroy my life, Noah did,” Michael says, tears filling his eyes. “Project Shepard did. Years of abusive foster homes did.” 

“I know that now,” he says. 

Michael opens his mouth a few times to speak, but closes it each time, shaking his head. Alex doesn’t say anything. Since adopting Bell, he’s been reading a lot about how to help animals that have been through severe trauma. He’s been surprised to find that so much of the literature relates to his own needs coming from an abusive home. He’s come to realize that both Michael and he have their own unique way of reacting to the trauma in their lives and those reactions, while they align nicely at times, often push against each other. 

This isn’t the time for Alex to force an answer out of Michael in an effort to gain the control that he feels he needs to be able to breathe. Alex needs to wait for Michael to come to him. He needs time. 

Bell comes over to them and Michael sits back so that she can jump onto the chaise with them and curl up between them. They both reach out to pet her, hands touching in the process and the smile that Michael gives him helps assure Alex that everything is going to be okay. Even as they discuss the ugliest parts of their relationship, there’s a trust there that Alex has never experienced before. 

Michael isn’t going anywhere. He never has. Even when things between them were at their worst, they still somehow always knew they could rely on each other. 

So Alex lets go of his need to control the conversation and refuses to allow his brain to start coming up with strategies on how to handle whatever Michael is going to throw at him. He just waits. Waits and trusts. 

“After you left that summer, I was really angry,” Michael finally says. “And I stayed mad for a long time. I used to hate that you could just show up, whenever you wanted and get whatever you wanted, and yet, I never seemed to get what I wanted.” 

Alex takes a deep breath, biting his tongue on the words that could so easily tumble out of his mouth right now. Nothing Michael is saying is untrue, it’s just bias. He doesn’t have the entire story, and that’s not Michael’s fault. That’s Alex’s fault. 

“I never got what I wanted either,” he says with tears in his eyes. “I wanted you. I wanted this.” He gestures around at the home that he thought they were building together. That he hopes they still are building together. 

“I know that now,” Michael says, repeating his words back to him with a soft smile. 

“I know that you were just being defensive because you needed to guard your heart and couldn’t trust me to stay… but when I first came back, the way you would speak to me sometimes just broke my heart,” Alex admits. “I fell in love with a boy who would whisper the cheesiest romantic lines in my ear, and I came home to a man who was sarcastic and bitter and looking to hurt me.” 

“I think we both were looking to hurt each other at times and knew exactly which button to press,” Michael says. “I’m not proud of how I acted when you first came home.” 

“You can be proud of some of it,” Alex teases, trying to lighten the mood since Michael’s face is starting to look too sad for his liking. 

“Like the reunion kiss?” 

“That was a good kiss,” he says, remembering how relieved he had been when Michael had finally reached out and taken what both of them wanted but Alex didn’t know how to ask for. “Or that time you told me you never look away.” 

Michael shakes his head making a face. “I don’t like that memory.” 

“Why?” he wonders. 

There aren't a whole lot of memories when Alex first came back to Roswell that he’d describe as happy, but pretty much everything from Michael telling him he never looks away right up until Isobel had shown up with those damn bagels, Alex holds pretty close to his heart. 

“Do you really feel like I’m the one that looks away?” he asks with a deep frown. “Like I was the one to leave back then?” 

“You never even said goodbye.” Alex isn’t trying to start a fight here, but Michael has to get that he’s the one that pushed first. 

“I was in jail,” he says defensively. 

“You got locked up on purpose,” Alex says, not letting go of this one. It’s one of the pains that has fed a large chunk of his Michael related insecurities. That Michael didn’t care enough about him to give him a goodbye. That perhaps Michael hadn’t loved him as much as he’d told Alex he did. 

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you,” Michael says, grabbing his hand over Bell, his eyes imploring him to understand. “My entire life was falling apart and you were the only good thing I had… Then you told me that you were leaving me and you never even explained why. You just said it like it was no big deal and I had all of 36 hours to adjust to the news that you were shipping off.” 

“I didn’t say I was leaving you. I told you I was leaving,” he corrects him. 

“Same thing.” 

“I would have made it work,” he said. “To keep you, I would have done long distance.” 

Michael shakes his head. “No, Alex. You wouldn’t have.” 

“I would have tried,” he argues. 

“Really? You would have risked everything with your dad and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell? You would have risked that all for me?” Michael says with disbelief.  

Alex sighs, thinking back to what things were like for them back then. Perhaps Michael is right. Maybe he was too broken and scared back then to fight for what he wanted. But he’s not that boy anymore. 

“I wanted to. I wanted you. I just… I couldn’t deal with everything,” he admits. Michael reaches over to wipe a tear from Alex’s cheek. “I’m willing to risk everything for you now though.” 

“I know,” Michael says, thumb caressing his cheek lovingly. “I know you are and I love you for it.” 

“I wish I had been braver back then,” Alex says. 

“Hey, we’re here now, right?” he says, and Alex is so grateful that they are at this point in their relationship where they can talk about these things without it dissolving into a huge fight. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that not talking about all of their past has led to both of them feeling insecure in their relationship. 

Alex leans over Bell to give Michael a sweet kiss. When they break apart, Michael has that look on his face like he wants to say more but isn’t sure he should. 

“What?” 

“Was I really that bad?” Michael asks. “I mean, I know I was getting into fights, but I was getting into fights with the town bigots. It’s not like you never punched any of those assholes. And I was stealing because I couldn't go to the doctor and I couldn’t afford medical supplies. But I was never violent around you. The worst I ever did around you was smoke weed, and half the time you were the one supplying it.” 

Alex debates how to explain it to Michael in a way that he’ll understand. Even now, with some distance and time, he’s not entirely sure that he was seeing things clearly back then. To Alex, it didn’t matter that he rarely saw Michael drunk and out of control, or that he never actually saw him in any of the fights around town. He heard about each of them. 

And each time he would hear about it, all he could think about was his dad, who would come home to get drunk most nights and with each drink his abuse would shift from emotional to physical. He didn’t want to stick around and see how long it would take for Michael to escalate. 

Now, he knows that Michael never would have. He knows that Michael has spent his entire life learning to control his temper and his powers. That he never drinks enough to lose control. That he never lets himself get violent with anyone unless they’ve said something hateful about somebody he cares about. Michael is soft and good. He’s not the kind of man who thrives under anger and violence. 

But how was Alex supposed to know that at the time? All he’d ever known was anger and violence. 

“You weren’t the only one who never had anything permanent or unconditional,” he says instead. “I didn’t know what I was doing either. Or how to help. And I didn’t know how to handle the guilt I felt around you for what happened with my dad. I think… I think it was easier for me to run.” 

“Run off to war,” Michael says, giving him a look that has Alex rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, I see the irony, thanks,” he says, rubbing at his leg. “It’s not like my dad gave me much choice in the matter.” 

“So he forced you into it?” Michael asks. “When I asked you if your dad was making you do it, you brushed me off. Gave me some bullshit line about finding your own power.” 

“My dad told me that I was either going to enlist or I would be cut off completely,” he said. “Those had been my options since junior year when I started looking at colleges. I was prepared to be cut off. But after Rosa died and Liz left and you started spiraling… I just didn’t feel like I had anyone.” 

“You had Maria.” 

“Maria was never leaving Roswell. And I sure as hell wasn’t staying. So I enlisted,” he says. “I know it must sound stupid to you, the fact that I didn’t know how to survive without my dad’s money… But I didn’t. And I still really wanted his approval for some stupid reason. I felt like… Like maybe if I enlisted…” 

“Like he would finally love you,” Michael finishes for him. 

Alex nods. “I know you think I’m stupid for giving him so many chances to be a decent human being.”

Michael looks like he’s about to give an angry retort of his own, but swallows it down. “I should never have called you stupid that day, I was just frustrated,” Michael says. “I’m just not like you. People suck and the world is overwhelmingly awful. My anger does make me feel safe. It’s what fuels my power. I don’t know how to let it go and I’m not sure I want to.” 

“You don’t have to,” Alex says quickly. “I mean I do hope that you eventually will. Because anger is bad for your health and I’m assuming that is true whether you’re human or alien. But it’s not fair for me to criticize your healing process. We both have a lot of trauma in our backgrounds. And we survived this long because we each came up with different coping mechanisms to get through. We shouldn’t judge each other or expect each other to deal with things in the same way.” 

“Did Dr. Celan tell you that during your last checkup with Bell?” Michael asks with a teasing smile, wiping away the tears from his eyes before Alex has a chance to. 

“Hey, dog trauma and people trauma isn’t that different,” Alex argues. 

John comes walking over to them and collapses on the ground beside them, whining in the way he always does. 

“Guess it’s probably time to get them back inside in the air conditioning,” Michael says, leaning down to pick John up and hold him against his chest. 

Alex looks across the yard to where Wendy and Peter are currently harassing a poor rabbit. “Wendy! Peter! Leave that thing alone!” Alex calls after them. 

“Let ‘em. That damn rabbit is going to destroy the garden,” Michael complains. 

“Yeah and the moment those two idiots bring a dead bloody rabbit to the door, I’m going to lose my mind,” he says. 

“You’ve been to war and a dead rabbit is too much?” Michael teases.  

“What if they eat it?” 

“You worry too much,” Michael says, standing up and walking towards the door, whistling for the kids to come inside. 

“Says the dad who literally carries that one everywhere,” Alex says, grabbing his crutch so that he can follow everyone into the house. 

“He gets cold,” Michael says defensively, covering John’s little ears as if his feelings might get hurt. “And his legs get tired.” 

Alex smiles at him fondly, rolling his eyes. Michael is ridiculous but he loves him for it. Seeing Michael with the dogs has only increased Alex’s desire to see Michael with a baby. With their baby. But they shouldn’t get too ahead of themselves. First, he has to convince Michael to move in. 

“So, back to the original topic,” he says. 

“Which was?” Michael asks, distracted as he puts John down in the kitchen in front of his water bowl. 

“Moving in with me.” 

Michael stands up and gives him an amused smile. “Are you asking?” 

Alex lets out an annoyed huff at Michael being deliberately obtuse, because he knows that Alex isn’t always the best with his words. But if Michael wants to hear him say it, he can do that. 

“Michael Guerin, will you move in with me,” he asks. 

Michael beams at him, moving to stand in front of him and place his hands on Alex’s waist. “Of course. I was waiting for you to ask.” 

“I want you here,” Alex assures him. “Always.” 

Alex leans in and captures Michael’s lips with his own, tasting the coffee and Baileys on Michael’s lips as well. His hand slides up Michael’s sides as they shift closer together and deepen the kiss. He holds onto his crutch with his hand, feeling unsteady, but trusting Michael to make sure he doesn’t fall. His hand moves around his shoulder until it finally finds its way into his beautiful curls. Their tongues slide against each other as they both pull one another closer, Alex feeling Michael support his weight with his telekinesis, so that he doesn’t have to cling so tightly to the crutch. Alex’s hand moves to pull at the drawstring of Michael’s sweatpants when Michael pulls back. 

“Before we change the subject completely,” Michael says, sounding out of breath, which gives Alex endless satisfaction. “Can I tell you something?” 

Alex nods. 

“I’m not angry all of the time,” he says. 

Alex gives him a confused look. Unsure what he’s getting at. 

“You said that you want me to let go of my anger and I said that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to,” he says. Alex nods. He remembers. “I’m not angry all of the time.” 

“Okay...” 

“I’m not angry when I’m here with you. With the dogs. I’m actually pretty content,” he admits. 

Watching the way that Michael smiles at him, Alex is pretty sure that he understands exactly what Michael is talking about — He’s never been more content in his life.

Tagged: @callieramics​ @redstalkingdeath​ @alexmaanes​

[luna-redamancy]

Hi, love your blog a lot! Could you... write a comfort ff about reader (from our world) who wakes up in the middle of the night by the campfire in the middle of the journey? And like Kili and Fili or Dwalin or Bofur try to comfort her after a really bad nightmare and maybe stop the selfharm or smt. It would really help me, like a lot. I had been having a really hard time lately cos of my eating disorder, bad nightmares, depression, selfharming and anxiety. Im already sorry for asking. Im sorry.

Hi, lovey! Please don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong!! I’m sorry that you’re having such a hard time, my inbox is always open if you want to ever talk or just let off some steam. I just want to let you know that things do get better, things may never be 100%, okay, but they do get better.

Sounds of whimpers caught Kili’s attention, dragging his eyes away from the darkened forest toward the curled up figure under the blankets. You were an odd one in their group, having mystically appeared out of thin air at the beginning of their journey. Now mid-way through, you’ve become family to them. Helping them care for their injuries, making sure they take care of themselves. 

Narrowing his eyes when he heard you whimper again, he took one more glance around the rim of the camp, ensuring there was not a single threat of danger before he approached you. 

Underneath the blankets, you were whimpering, sweat beading down your forehead as your brow furrowed and mouth opened and shut periodically as if you were trying to shout. 

Brushing your hair from your face, Kili decided the best thing to do was to wake you. 

“(Y/n),” He cooed, gently moving the pillow back and forth so he didn’t touch you without permission. The movement worked, dragging you up from the hell of your nightmares only to stare into Kili’s concerned eyes. 

Your chest was heaving up and down but you didn’t utter a sound, simply looking at your surroundings before clearing your throat slightly. “What is it?” You asked, moving to sit up slowly, noticing it was still dark out. 

“You were whimpering in your sleep,” Kili whispered now that you were awake, his eyes moving around the company to make sure none of them woke up as a result of waking you. He knew you’d be too ashamed and embarrassed to talk to him if there were other people questioning why you were up so late. 

He chose not to question you on your dream, something you were grateful for as you took your blanket to sit next to him during watch. 

“I do not know much about your world,” Kili began, looking up to the stars instead of looking at your face, he knew he would lose his confidence then. “-but I do know one thing. No matter what thoughts begin to swirl in that magnificent mind of yours, you are an amazing human being. You are caring, strong, kind, beautiful inside and out…”

“I am only telling you this because I have seen the scars, I know what they are... Marks of infliction that look to be self-made… I do not know about your world or what you have gone through, but… I-I am here to help you if you’d let me.” Kili finished, nervously running his hands together, knowing you would either be offended at him acknowledging something you did not want outsiders seeing or you would be comforted. 

You were silent, staring up at the stars as tears welled up in your eyes. “Thank you,” You murmured slightly, moving to lean your head on his shoulder, seeking physical comfort after being reminded of the awful past through your dreams. Kili moved to cradle you in his arms as you sniffled, his hands rubbing up and down your back. 

“It may not all be okay now, but it will be better within time. And on the bad days, I will be here to remind you of the light of tomorrow.”

Reminder: My blog is a safe place for everyone and anyone, please do not hesitate to send me a message or an ask <3

[shhhlikeme]

Hiiii! I have a request! So if you write for tanaka, can you do one with the reader being really smart and getting pestered by the third years to tutor tanaka. So she does and he catches feeling ( so does she ) but,,,, can it somehow lead to them kissing ( maybe making out 😳 ). Sorry if this is confusing. Love your writing so far btw😘😘

Tanaka x Uber Intelligent Tutor 🤓🔥

———————————

Thank you sooo much! So I actually added yours with another request I received because it’s uncanny how similar they are.

This is the other request in my inbox that will remain anon: hey im kinda shy about sending asks without anon on so if you could write something about the reader being really smart and having a crush on (doesn't matter who but i guess just one of the guys that need help in canon) and getting assigned to tutor them, I would absolutely love you forever 💙

I hope you both enjoy it!!!!

———————————

Tanaka was going to kill his best friend Nishinoya.

At the moment, he was whispering all of the evil ways he was going to kill him for this.

Tanaka was hiding in his sister Saeko’s bathroom on the opposite end of his house. He had checked that he was alone twice before shutting the door and instantly dialing his libero friend’s number on FaceTime. He was going to kill him.

Back at Nishinoya’s house, he was bubbling over in laughter in his room at his friend’s expense. He kicked up his feet onto the wooden table in front of him that his mom always yells at him for putting his feet on.

“Now, Now, Ryu.....you and I both know that death by your teddy bear is not even possible.” He smiled that wide smile that took up his whole face.

Tanaka growled, “Wanna bet?!”

Ok, sure, granted. Maybe Nishinoya should have warned his best friend that the person the 3rd years convinced to tutor him was Y/N......one of the most gorgeous girls in school.....so that Tanaka could have been better equipped for their study sessions......but where was the fun in that?

“I told you that [Your Last Name] was your tutor. I didn’t lie!”

Tanaka settled down a bit because Nishi was right. He did say that [Your Last Name] would be his tutor. But that didn’t make him any less of a little shit. Because Nishinoya knew Tanaka well enough to know that he would hear that last name and think of Y/N’s little brother who was in their year. It would make more sense for that butt-wad of a hall monitor to be his tutor over his nerdy-hottie of an older sister. She isn’t even in our year!

Nishinoya explained that in his defense, he didn’t know either, until he eavesdropped on his upperclassmen’s conversation with the beautiful merit scholar. And no Nishinoya was totally not skipping class to see where Kiyoko was heading stalker ass

Flashback ———-

You held your books close to your chest as your fellow classmates Asahi, Sugawara, Daichi, and Kiyoko surrounded you at your locker.

“It would be just this once.” Daichi explained desperately.

“Is there anything we can do to repay you? Have an aunt that needs help moving?” Sugawara chirped.

Asahi nodded. “We could do your homework.....while you help him? Please.” The tallest boy smiled.

You moved away from the three boys because they were unknowingly crowding your claustrophobic self. You could feel a panic coming on and you really wished you were back in the library with your books.

Kiyoko stretched her hand in front of the 3 boys and hissed at them to step back and give you space in her sweet but monotone voice. They did so immediately and you caught your breath. Kiyoko was so nice! She was great at corralling those volleyball boys it was almost admirable. They were quite the bunch.

Kiyoko gave you a sweet smile as she turned her gaze to you. She explained to you sweetly that Tanaka, one of Karasuno’s starting wing spikers, was about to fail Biology and since you were a student teacher in another Biology class for the second years you’d be a perfect tutor for him. If you had time. She added that they would realllly appreciate it.

Tanaka? You thought to yourself. You vaguely remember hearing your little brother complain at the dinner table about the amount of hall passes he had to give to this shaved-head boy named Tanaka. Yes, and that he was on the volleyball team. So that must be him.

As you began to recall the face, you definitely recalled the body. This one time you were leaving school from grading papers and the team ran by you. The only shirtless one caught your eye, because he was lean and all muscle. You had to hide your drool behind one of your books and scurry home before you jumped on his back for a piggyback ride.

You were smart .... not a horny-less teenage girl

Snapping you out of your head, Kiyoko took your hands between both of hers and asked if you could “pretty please” help him because they needed him in the next game.

Sugawara couldn’t resist but say yes to Kiyoko’s “pretty please” and Daichi pestered him because obviously the beautiful Kiyoko wasn’t talking to him!

Stunned, you nodded. You did have the time. And you wanted to help. You were a student teacher for the subject anyway, so what’s one more student right? Asahi, Daichi, and Suga have been so sweet to you during your 3 years with them and who could say no to Kiyoko anyway?

You agreed. And just like that the following Saturday you headed over to Tanaka’s house for tutoring.

End of Flashback ———-

When Tanaka opened the door, looking like a slob because he couldn’t care less what his enemy hall monitor thought of his looks— his jaw dropped to the FLOOOOOOR

A stuttering mess, he asked you what you were doing here.

You shook the stack of biology books in your hand in front of his face to remind him and you blushed.

He looked homeless and cute to you!

He slapped his forehead with his hand and moved so you could come in.

Tanaka awkwardly made you wait outside his shut bedroom door while he rummaged through everything and cleaned to the best of his ability at “rolling thunder” speed, stuffing everything into his closet and using all his strength to push it closed. He sprayed a few spritz of his favourite cologne around the room before he swung the door back open and tried to play it cool.

“Uhh, sorry about that — I had to....uh....study.”

You laughed. “Study? Without me? Isn’t that why I’m here?” You pushed the books into his chest for him to hold as you walked into the room.

Tanaka rushed to reason. “It’s always good to study.....before......you....study. It’s like stretching before a volleyball game right? Ha-ha.”

You stifled a giggle.

He rubbed the back of his head. “I think saw it on Dr. Phil or something.” He finished.

You threw your head back and laughed even harder. Tanaka cursed himself and Nishinoya in his mind for leading him to embarrass himself like this. Once he was done that he couldn’t help but admire how whimsical your laugh was. Fuck....were you gorgeous as ever. You had that prestigious type of beauty, in which he knew you were his Senpai and soooo far out of his league but you were talking to him and it made him sweat. Also, he could very well be sweating because you were wearing a v-neck blouse and your boobs were bouncing with you as you giggled. Oh, God. Tanaka bit his bottom lip.

Excusing himself to shower, (because he wasn’t going to if it was your brother here) he grabbed his towel and made a swift exit before he sported a hard on.

How the FUCK was he going to study with Hottie-McSmarty Pants...Ette in his room ?!?!

Once he locked himself in his sister’s bathroom .... he called to threaten Nishinoya’s life and hung up on him when Nishi reminded him that Y/N tied with Kiyoko on the second years “Hot Girl List” in the boys’ bathroom. He didn’t want to be reminded of that fact when she was steps away and his Libero knew that.

Frustrated, Tanaka took a very fast and very cold shower before returning to his room.

Upon return, you looked up as he walked in and instinctively licked your lips. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist and drops of water were running down his abs slowly. Is this guy really only in second year?! With muscles like that......

“Sorry.” Tanaka snapped as he quickly grabbed some clothes and left to change in his sisters empty room. He didn’t dare look at you out of embarrassment so he didn’t catch you ogling.

3 hours into the study session, Tanaka began wishing that he did do something in the shower to ease his hormones instead of merely opting for a cold one.

You were so hot and so smart which only added to your hotness even more and you smelled good which ALSO added to your hotness even more and you kept leaning over him from behind to explain things and Tanaka couldn’t breathe. He was, however, understanding everything you were teaching him.

You both continued these tutor sessions for the next few weeks, meeting every Saturday for most of the day. Tanaka found you to be more than just good looks and brains. The fact that you could run circles around intellects twice your age turned him on, yes, but he also found you witty, kind, and funny and that laugh of yours was something he wished he could program into his phone as his ringtone. He was crushing big time.

And I mean......you were crushing too, as much as you tried to deny it. He was the funniest person on the planet and he was so protective of you and you definitely wanted to confess to him before you graduate and leave for College

One Saturday when you came over you had shut up Tanaka’s school work complaints because apparently he heard from Dr. Phil that studying is bad for your health - you gave Tanaka a practice quiz to he had to gauge his progress. As he began, you collapsed on your back on his bed, letting out a big sigh and whispering to him how comfortable his bed is.

Tanaka gasped quietly. HOT SMART CRUSH ON HIS BED ?! HOT SMART CRUSH COMPLIMENTING HIM ON HIS BED ?! This can’t be.

He tried his best to turn away and focus on his quiz that you gave him but he just couldn’t. Yes, his hormones were acting up but his heart was beating more. He wanted you to sleepover and not even do anything physical. He just wanted you here, in his room, by his side, forever.

Baby boy is in looo-

You closed your eyes on the bed and basked in the scent of him that his bed captured. You were so happy just smelling him and being here. You imagine yourself sleeping in his bed overnight, imagining his strong arms holding you close to his shirtless chest and your breath hitched.

At least you thought it did.

But that wasn’t your breath. Not at all.

You quickly opened your eyes to see that Tanaka has transported on to the bed beside you, his face hovering over yours. Why wasn’t he breathing? He was just looking at you with adoring eyes as if you were the most gentle and precious thing in the world. “Ryūnosuke... what are you-“

“I’ll do the stupid test, teach....” His eyes softened as he leaned in just a little bit closer. “Just let me look at you....” He whispered to himself as his beautiful eyes scanned every part of your face.

Neither of you said anything as you stared at each other. You wanted him closer. You wanted him much closer. And although you had much more knowledge on cell duplication than romance (you hadn’t even kissed a boy yet), you used your social intelligence to read the moment and you dared a glance at his lips.

Tanaka a.k.a the VERY LOST self proclaimed babe lover—- bless his heart, did not take the hint.

So you had to be obvious.

“Tanaka...?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Screw. The. Test.”

Even though you found it sweet that he didn’t make a move, and that he in fact did just want to look at you, you lifted your head up from off the bed just a bit so that your lips met with his.

Tanaka was shocked for a second but quickly regained his footing. He immediately sighed into the kiss and kissed you passionately. So passionately you were dizzy within the first 4 seconds. He asked for entrance and you opened your mouth to let his gracious tongue in. He skillfully French kissed you until you forgot your own name. He was undoubtedly an incredible kisser. You moaned into his mouth as you two made out and in response Tanaka slowed the kiss down. In his mind, he didn’t want you to think he was trying to make you moan and get the wrong idea about him. He didn’t want you to think anything that may jeopardize this kiss and make you stop. He had no intention of stopping and he was happy as a camper just making out.

for the record, your moan did go straight to his dick 

You figured Tanaka’s objective was to help you gain your senses back but all slowing the kiss down did was make it more sensual and pleasurable for you.

Homeboy can KISSSSSSSSS

Up until now you were the tutor. You were the one in charge, you had all the answers. And just like that it only took one kiss for your relationship to surpass physical boundaries causing the roles to reverse. You followed his lead, you let him kiss you the way he wanted because it felt so damn good.

What subject were you teaching him again? You forget.

Because at the moment he was the teacher.

This was his class now...

And as Tanaka moved down to start placing the same agonizingly slow kisses on your neck..... you were hit smack in the face with the realization that class was in session.

Good thing you always enjoyed being top of the class. 

------------------------------------------------

get it? 

LOOOOL. 

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 7

Hi friends! Sorry for the delay here. I’ve been on vacation, so my priorities have been boozin’ and cruisin’. Thanks for your continued support of this story—I love hearing your feedback. This one’s a whopper of a chapter!

______

We often lose track of time in this great, big world of ours, in much the same way we lose a pair of keys, a couple of pens. “I swear I saw them two seconds ago!” we groan, groping to purse-bottoms, finding only lint and chump-change. So many things—these small facets of our lives—sucked into the void of bygones, taken before we can ever think to tie them down.

“I swear I was twenty-two just yesterday.”

This is how it is for Jamie and Claire, their years like old playbills confiscated by the wind and an invisible clock. Certain acts reappear from time to time, when the arm of a broom sweeps them into the light, when the frosting of dust disturbs, then floats. And for a brief moment, as the particles of time and forget resettle themselves, Jamie and Claire can hear their lives’ most glorious crescendos. The lowest notes tip-toe from the long-kept silence, rising and sinking slowly, steadily. All plucked strings, still vibrating, until the echoes die, cradling the past.

You can write an entire story with these bits and pieces of their lives, cut the acts together to form one winding opera. It plays and stops until, eventually, the grand finale. The overlap: a perfect harmony which carries them from their separate wings, to center stage and to each other.

And it is there, finally, that they meet again, lips and lives melding. They stand together in the orb of the spotlight. A single sun, glowing.

THE SPIRIT IN THE HORSE, 2000

Starring James Fraser, Jenny Fraser, Brian Fraser, The Doctor, Ellen Fraser, Fitzy (and a More-Than-Flash of Someone Else)

Though a bestselling author, JAMES FRASER did not grow up with dreams of books, but of horses.

He was born on an unusually hot day, spring 1968. Everything melting at its very seams, the birthing room’s thermometer feverish with mercury blood. His father and sister had fashioned fans from intake forms, moving heat-murk and birth-stink with the accordioned papers. They looked on with damp foreheads, lips white and tight, so that Ellen could have the breaths they saved.

At half-past noon, the doctor had caught Jamie’s auburn crown, dripping more heavily than his own laboring mother. All of this—the heat, the sweat, the waving forms—was taken as the stamp of Jamie’s fate. Surely, they had all agreed, he would set the world on fire, would be a brand forever puckering its skin.

The hibernators had emerged early that year, scurrying from their earthen wombs just as Jamie had slipped from his mother’s. Heat-drunk and dizzied, they had eaten everything in sight. Corn stalks, cabbage leaves, whole fields of barley—gone. Even Ellen’s strawberries, barely ripened—devoured by mid-April. The red fruits had shrunk to halves, then thirds, as the creatures munched and munched. Fleshy hearts eaten to bleeding, the pulp left to the sleepy stragglers.

And so on the day Jamie entered the world, the Frasers had returned to a dark and stifling house. Rot wafted from the windows, and the electrical wires were chewed cleanly through. One rabbit, the chosen martyr, had laid cooked in the grass, fur spiked.

Brian had thrust Jamie into his daughter’s arms, ran inside to rescue what unspoiled food he could (three eggs, a loaf of bread). Waiting in the yard, Jenny had imagined the wilting lettuce inside the fridge and Ellen, equally wilted under the blue hospital sheet. She had watched a squirrel leap across the berry guts, a rope of black wire between his paws.

How—if at all, she had wondered—would they survive without her mother?

Too exhausted for a trip to the store, Brian had fried the eggs on the driveway. The yolk was thick in his mouth and the sorrow thicker in his chest, before he realized Jamie’s cries had quieted. He started when he heard the horse’s whinny, the snorty exhale through its nostrils. Beside him, Jenny had scuttled away, feet scraping at the egg crusts.

Incensed by the heat and the crowd, Fitzy the horse had stormed her stable doors to freedom. She had brayed, desolate to find her owner gone, until she spotted the flame in Brian’s arms. Copper, auburn, cinnabar—all Ellen’s colors—poking from a swaddle of blue. And so Fitzy had bowed her head, brought Jamie into her awed silence. One shining moment, the first since Ellen’s passing—calm and peaceful.

Even now, 32 years later, Jamie loves to tell this story. How Brian had pressed his baby fist to the mane, his mother still a stickiness on his baby thumb. And how, as a young boy, Jamie had thought Ellen lived somewhere inside auld Fitzy. Something in the black bead of the mare’s eye: a flash, a peculiar spark. It was an acknowledgement that, until one night in 1989, Jamie had never felt before.

After his book tour in ’99, Jamie Fraser decided to take the leap—carpe diem—and purchase his own horse and his own land (fields way out in the Highlands; a farmhouse converted to splendor by his millions). The horse, like Fitzy, wears a chestnut coat. She is stubborn but loving, recognizes Jamie’s voice when he calls and his face when it floats above her stable door. He sees a flash of Fitzy—and of his mother, he thinks—when she surrenders her anger to Jamie’s flags of truce: a fresh Granny Smith, a carrot stick plucked from the ground. He sees a More-Than-Flash of Someone Else when she nudges his shoulder, apologetic. The only source of happiness, this beautiful beast, outside of his writing.

“Ye see?” Jamie had said after their first standoff, “Ye canna stay mad at me forever.” And when the horse had chomped the apple from his hand, he’d sworn that she was smiling.

“Mo nighean donn,” he’d whispered, and decided, then and there, to name her Sorcha.

______

CARROLL’S THEORY OF TRUTH, 2003

Starring Claire Randall, Frank Randall, Joe Abernathy, duncandonuts, wetwillie, mark_me_1745, parsleymarsley, l.mackenzie (and The Author)

When CLAIRE RANDALL is not working at the hospital, her nose is pressed to a blue-white screen.

For years, she had resisted those monstrous, blocky machines—Macintosh, Dell, Gateway—all brand names accompanied by her husband’s greedy and jabbing elbows.

But there was value in tradition, Claire had argued. A kind of sanctity in the ping of an Underwood or the swish of pen; privacy and authentic connection. Frank had merely rolled his eyes, always lusting after the new and shiny—whether it was a computer or a student’s gloss-plumped lips—knowing it was not “tradition” itself that his wife was holding onto.

“So like you, Claire,” he’d said bitterly one day, “wanting to stay stuck in the past.” And, of course, he’d been right. Just to spite him, she’d finally surrendered and gave him one for Christmas.

Gradually, Claire came to love the whirring engine, the wail of the dial-up, the period of isolation where she was unreachable by phone. Like time travel, almost, the way it took her places past and present, opening every door like some futuristic gentleman.

But mostly, Claire loved the computer for the freedom it gave her. Boot up the system, click the mouse, log on, be someone else. Online, Claire could play a different role than the surgeon or the amateur gardener, pretend she was not the wife who turned her cheek as often as she made her husband’s dinner. On the Internet, her identity was a thirty-word bio, her face a grey silhouette displayed comfortably—anonymously—inside a neat, square frame. A million different bodies growing inside her, once her fingers flew across keyboard:

Claire Randall, the British spy.

Claire Randall, the avid hiker, climbing the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Claire Randall, the mother, who loved the melt of ice cream down her daughter’s chin. Her tiny mouth, sweet and sugared, when it met hers for a kiss.

One website, her favorite, was this: a forum, populated by other faceless humans who, like Claire, could recite page 451 (or any others) of A Blade of Grass. In this corner of the online universe, they had spoken of The Author on a first-name basis, trading facts like prized baseball cards. But it was only Claire who could share the most private knowledge, attribute it all to her keen nose and thus earn the respect of 16 anonymous users.

Even so, Claire had been surprised by what they knew solely through their reading. The Author’s childhood, his relationships, his favorite color. She was able to ask her own prodding questions and receive correct answers, such as:

whiteraven: A long shot, but does anyone know how to contact him by telephone?

And five of the grey-faced few had responded.

duncandonuts: easier to send him send him a letter (might get lost among the rest of his fan mail though).

wetwillie: have you tried his agent, john grey, in london?

mark_me_1745: if u meet him, tell him 2 come 2 brasil!!!!!!! we <3 him!!!!!!!

parsleymarsali: Publishers Weekly mentioned he’s now with Geordie Gibbons at the Claude F. Agency, not Grey, @wetwillie. Think it had something to do with creative differences and missed deadlines.

l.mackenzie: pass that info onto _me_ if you find it, girl! <g>

By a stroke of luck, someone had known someone who’d known someone who’d known someone. And just like that, she was given a phone number the following Wednesday. A day like any other, if it weren’t for a single string of digits sitting in her inbox, a silent but ticking grenade.

She spent three months with the numbers inside her head, stored in a folder marked with The Author’s name. She did manage to call though—once—when her hand finally lowered from its hover. She’d waited out the sonorous ring-ring-ring, the robotic chime, “You have reached the voice mailbox of..." She had listened to the beep that followed and then the silence, stretching, until she remembered her mouth. It opened, exhaled, then shut abruptly with the click of her teeth. There was the clatter of keys and the thwop of a briefcase—Frank home from work.

She had almost whispered, but did not.

It was too much to have both men in the same room: one gently pecking her lips, the other pressing an electric current into her cheek, crackling. Too much, too much. Claire had slammed the phone down and cursed, “Bloody teleprompter. Always calling before dinner,” which had made her husband laugh. She’d made him spaghetti that night, the spices forming twelve digits in the saucepan no matter how many times she swirled the spoon.

It’s been four months since that first and only call, though Claire still remembers The Author’s number. She thinks of if—when—she will have the courage to call again, to finally speak and fill the space of eleven empty years. While Frank snores beside her, she plays the scene from start to finish, like a draft of the real, inevitable thing.

Again: the sonorous ring, the tinny greeting, the beep, and the silence that waits for her. But this time: her mouth opens—one, two three times—and five words repeated, again and again.

In some versions, she says them aloud. In others, merely pushes them, soundless, into the air. Still, they are there, held aloft by satellite arms high up in the sky. Somewhere between her and The Author, existing: I was born for you, I was born for you, I was born for you.

And what is said three times—even unfinished, even without words—is always, always true.

______

THREE TIMES THE WORLD ENDED , 2004

Starring Jamie Fraser, Jenny Fraser, and Laoghaire Mackenzie (and The Girl)

JAMES FRASER, age 34, can pinpoint three moments where his world fell apart.

He was eighteen during the first, a brazen thing, but still as green as the pot freshly stinking his Levi’s. After reading the call notice pasted to his door, he’d floated to the common room on a cloud of White Widow weed. He dialed, laughing, until Jenny’s voice had sobbed down the line, breaking the peace of his druggy fug.

Their father, she’d cried, had died the previous evening.

With the news, the had drugs turned. Floors slanted, limbs jellied. Jamie watched as a hole ripped open the wall behind him, its enormous black void revealing the space Brian Fraser had left behind. It had swallowed Jamie up, refused to spit him back again until The Girl reached inside and found his heart two years later. Returned it to him, like a love note, passed on the inside of her smile.

Jamie describes the second collapse in his two famous novels, A Blade of Grass and Two Centuries in Purgatory. This time, the world had split completely, Jamie and The Girl like two tectonic plates shifting in the night. It was his writing that had bound Jamie’s world together again, though the spine remained cracked, a few of the pages missing.

The third time occurred just last week though Jamie was not entirely surprised. It’s what happens, he supposes, when you build something on uneven ground. Physical presence—someone’s here-ness—does not equate to love.

Nine years after the second earthquake, a new person had come into Jamie’s life. She would stand in the doorway at 6:30PM, jump to her tip-toes to welcome him home. There would be steam from the stove, and utensils would gleam in perfect, shining order. Napkins would wait with their patient folds, each prepared to catch the food that she, his ever-present Laoghaire, had prepared during the day. And for those three years, Laoghaire’s toothbrush had sat next to Jamie’s, her silks hanging beside his cottons. Evidence, he had thought, that he maybe-almost loved her.

But then Laoghaire had grown curious—“Why’ve no made progress on yer novel? What are ye writing all day if it isna yer third book?”—and stuck her piglet nose into places it did not belong. She, in a rare moment of ingenuity, had unlocked the safe and found his letters.

And so this time, Jamie’s world had not ripped or split—but exploded with a thousand sticks of paper dynamite. Laoghaire had burned through the house, burned through the letters. She’d called the magazines and the bloggers, vowing to tarnish his reputation with lies: cheater, drunk, lunatic, fraud. Finally, she’d left, taking the napkins, the cutlery, and the toothbrush—but leaving the embers in her wake, smoldering. A few scraps had avoided the fire, and Jamie read them as the night rose.

My da once told me I’d know straight away, that I’d have no doubt. And I didn’t.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many different men.

The love of you was my soul.

and

Yours, Jamie

Forever, Jamie

Come home, my heart. I am not as brave as I was before, Jamie

On and on and on they went. Singed pieces of his letters. Every one meant for The Girl who’d confronted his darkness, had rescued his heart at a Christmas Eve party.

4,380. One letter for every day he had missed her.

______

THE KILLING GIRL, 2006

Starring Claire Randall*, Henry Beauchamp, Julia Beauchamp, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, Frank Randall (and The One Person)

CLAIRE RANDALL* , resident at Boston GH, was five years old when she thought she was murderer. For years, she could hardly sleep, fearing not the monster beneath her bed, but the one beneath her covers.

Instead of counting sheep, she’d recounted facts as they’d been reported in the paper: Henry and Julia Beauchamp, parents of one Claire Beauchamp. Their mangled car, and a rocky deathbed set one hundred feet below. Both husband and wife, father and mother—dead upon impact.

Rarely, did this guide Claire towards sleep, and so she began to picture the accident as she’d recorded it in her diary. The same story, but more accurate—one that played behind her eyelids as if she had watched it all, a spectator on the road’s shoulder.

There was her parents’ blue Ford ribboning the cliffside. The low hum of conversation and the static of the radio. There was Claire’s goodbye before they left—“You always go without me! IhateyouIhateyou!”— which followed her parents and pushed them off the edge. She was sure it was her words that had broken her mother’s neck, had snapped it like a flower’s stem. One Claire Beauchamp, the little killing girl.

Five years passed before Lamb had found her in the courtyard, weeping her guilt into a mat of grey feathers. She had confessed to her five-year old anger then; how she’d pried open the rocky mouth and dropped her parents in.

“Death doesn’t move according to reason, my dear,” Lamb had said, “but only chance. And by no fault of yours.” He had patted her on the head like a priest grants forgiveness, and they buried the bird in the Nyungwe Forest. Wings and Claire’s blame laid to rest beneath the trees.

Still, Claire likes how accountability sets her world—so wracked by coincidence—back on its axis. Responsibility, however false, is easier to accept than the fickleness of husbands, of dead parents, of love and life. She assumes the role of the guilty to feel a sense of control, like she herself is in charge of the scale’s tip. And so:

It was Claire’s fault that the frost returned in May, all her marigold suns snuffed out.

It was Claire’s fault that the infection took the wound, gnawed the patient’s flesh so that a saw had to chop the bone.

It was Claire’s fault that midnight voices chirped down the receiver. The girls’ lovesick pleas—I need you. I love you. Leave her.—placed in Frank’s pockets by Claire’s own hands.

And of course, it was Claire’s fault that things had ended as they did. The final fight, every bit of hate, hers to claim:

“I am not an idiot, Frank! And I’m tired of being made into one.”

“Darling, you aren’t an idiot. I never said you were an idiot.”

“Don’t bloody ‘darling’ me, you bloody cad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How novel.”

“Truly, I am.”

“So that’s it, then? Just ‘I’m sorry.’ No excuses? No begging-on-bended-knee?” (Claire had scoffed. Her laughter, like the paring knife that guts the beast.) “No, of course not. Begging would be too embarrassing for you. Too much effort. All your energy is spent chasing skirts and quick fucks. You selfish, disgusting man.”

“So I’m the only selfish one here, is that it? Just me?”

“You’re saying that I’m selfish?”

“I am.”

“Me.”

“Yes, you, Claire! You, who is always working and never here. You, who sleeps with his books under our mattress, still wears the man’s goddamn ring on a chain. Like a fucking noose around our marriage, from the start.” (Claire had winced; Frank’s knuckles had cracked the wall.) “No, I’m not selfish, Claire. I’ve shared you with another man for thirteen years.”

“So I see you’ve lost all sense, but still have some fucking nerve."

“Cursing doesn’t improve your argument.”

“Wanker.”

“Now Claire…”

“Just go.”

“Claire, please—”

“Go.”

And thus, it was Claire’s fault that Frank had whispered, “You’ve never looked at me. Not once, not really.” And it was her fault that he had grabbed his keys, slipped into the blizzard and into his car.

And it was Claire—Claire, Claire, Claire—who became the ice that hissed against tires. Who launched Frank’s body through the glass, turned his skin purple-blue and the snow dark red. Her fault that the last thing she’d said was “go”, and Frank had taken her at her very word.

All of this, she has put upon her shoulders, for its burden is lesser than the truth: that she has no control, never did and never would. Claire is forever held at the mercy of a capricious gravity—she and everyone else, a little bit helpless. Always.

But there was One Person, she often remembers, who had given her a kind of foothold. On their wedding night, she had whispered about her mother’s flower neck, about the grey bird whose wings she’d given to the Nyungwe. And he had understood, promised forgiveness for whatever wrongs she had and would commit. “Real or imagined, Sassenach” he’d said into hair, “Already forgiven.” They had spiraled through life, the pair of them, both a little bit helpless—but everything shared.

But of all of her false faults, this is one Claire fears is true: that she is the reason The One Person is not here, but some 3,000 miles away. She was, after all, the one who had packed the suitcase and caused the gavel to fall, Divorce.

All her fault: Claire Randall. The guilty one, the killing girl, the widow. Spinning and spinning into empty space, grasping at stars, alone.

*[Note from director: Ms. Claire Randall has requested we change her name to Claire Beauchamp. Please reprint with this correction ASAP. Thank you.]

______

POINT OF CONVERGENCE, 2007

Starring Jamie Fraser (The Author, The One Person), Claire Beauchamp (A More-Than-Flash Of Someone-Else, The Girl), Geordie Gibbons

JAMES FRASER does not like to disappoint. It is his greatest fear, seeing someone’s face pull, twist, and finally droop into an expression of discontent. Even worse: when the expression is given a name, “I’m so disappointed in you, Jamie.” And worst of all: when the name is given by his agent, Geordie Gibbons.

One of the most important days of Jamie’s life began in anticipation of such disappointment. He had twiddled his thumbs beneath a table, dreading the moment Geordie’s fedora ducked beneath the restaurant’s eaves. The wait staff had milled around him: A waiter dashed towards snapping fingers, the hostess offered towels for rain-soaked heads. He’d felt jealous, watching them, of their readiness—how they could be so effortlessly on time. Jamie couldn’t even manage to meet his deadlines, the desk calendar at home flipped far beyond the designated X.

Jamie and Geordie were to have “lunch” and “catch up”. This would, inadvertently, devolve into an interrogation about Jamie’s third novel, which was nothing more than a series of working titles. It was a pattern, this lateness and lunching, never changing despite the demands and promises made by both parties. Geordie would remove his hat, exposing the frown previously shadowed beneath its brim. Their food would be served—Jamie, something yeasty; Geordie, a taxidermist’s culinary experiment—and Jamie would choke down a side of his agent’s disappointment. Eventually, they would part ways, and Jamie would return home, knock out a few pages. Turn in a shitty draft the next morning for the sake of postponing a second “lunch.”

But on this day, the universe had shifted; the pattern broke. Jamie had continued to sit there, all sweat and nerves, but Geordie’s fedora, the interrogation, and the food never came.

Because while Jamie had waited in the restaurant, CLAIRE BEAUCHAMP was arguing in her bedroom mirror: Claire vs. Claire, Head vs. Heart. She was thousands of miles away in a Boston apartment, but still—the tremor traveled, pushing a storm across the Atlantic, down the Royal Mile, to Jamie. The trajectory of his day and his life had changed as Claire gesticulated wildly at her own reflection.

So at 12:14, Jamie had been alone, Geordie unusually late for a man so fond of punctuality. He read the menu three times, settled on a whisky. Thought better of it; ordered two.

At 12:30, Claire’s battle had still raged, no victor in sight. The thunder had shaken the house, shaken the mirror on the wall.

At 12:46, Jamie had condemned Geordie, then deadlines. Art, he’d fumed, was beyond time, existed outside of it. He had ordered a third whisky when a wine spill was wiped up, gone before it had the chance to leave its mark.

At 12:48, Claire had moved to the kitchen. Both armies were advancing quickly, charging into the living room, to the yard, back to the living room, over and over. She and herself, it seemed, had reached a stalemate. Head and Heart had squatted, dripping rain, and awaited the other's surrender.

At 12:50, Claire had paused and looked through the window. She caught a glimpse of her garden, reborn and thriving despite the storm, and the sight of the marigold blooms did not reveal an emptiness inside her. She felt, for once, happy. Her Heart had stormed her Head’s walls, then, the gates of decision giving way.

At 12:51, Claire had opened her scrapbook, a secret once kept from Frank. It was filled with bits and bobs: a piece of bubble wrap, a bell from her holiday sweater. Both of them glued beside old polaroids. Again, she did not feel her Heart stutter, but expand; lift straight out of her chest. A full siege after that. Her Head’s weakest men fell beneath the lash of artery whips.

At 12:52, the end was near, and Claire’s Heart marched to her computer, hunted through years of mail. Its trophy had laid buried in a folder—one message with twelve digits—and the battle, at last, was won.

At 12:53, both Jamie and his phone had buzzed. The door opened, letting in the air. It had smelled of wet soil, earthy and ripe. Familiar, like a ghost’s kiss on the back of his neck. He put the phone to his ear, and…

At 12:53:05, he said, “Jesus, man! Where are ye? I’ve been waiting nigh on 50 minutes!” There was no response.

At 12:53:08: “Did ye get caught in the storm? Are ye calling from a pay phone?” More silence.

At 12:53:13: “Hello? Anyone there?”

At 12:53:20: “Geordie, man, is that you?”

At 12:53:25: A deep, shaking breath. An audible gulp. Claire’s Heart whispering its victory song.

12:53:26: “It’s isn’t Geordie.”

12:53:27: “It’s me.”

And at 12:53:28, everywhere, suddenly—the brightest sun.

Phew! This chapter is one of the longest, but it’s also one of my favorites. The structure is lifted straight from Fates and Furies—there’s a chapter that is just a series of the protagonist’s plays—and I was looking to try something new (it also weirdly fits in with the tone of the chapter introductions). In my opinion, the best thing about writing fanfiction is that you have so much room to experiment.

This structure also allowed me to do what I’d been wanting to do from the beginning: move away from the One Day conceit and explore Jamie and Claire’s pasts. It was very easy to just run with any image or idea that came to mind—we know so little about their childhoods; there are so many possibilities!

And speaking of why fanfiction is so awesome—and I mentioned this in another post—but it’s a blast figuring out how to incorporate canon into an AU setting. Using canon dialogue can boost the emotional punch of a line in a way that is just *chef’s kiss*. “I was born for you.” “I am not as brave as I was before.” Ugh, kill me.

I have to whistle past some of the melodrama and Frank’s computer craze (wouldn’t he also be a typewriter sort of person???). And modern!Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Brazil comment still tickles me. This is not meant as an offense to Brazilians—y’all are just always on *clap* it *clap*, and I love your enthusiasm.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like Real People Do

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You’re a temp in Stark Tower by day and a fanfic writer by night. What happens when your professional life collides with your secret hobby?

Note: Brief break from HSB but I’m gonna be working on that today and hopefully figuring out when I’ll finish my other pending series. I need to wrap some stuff up so I can move on to newer series, etc. But for now, I hope you like some sneaky Loki.(inspired by an anon ask) Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was your second week at the tower. You were still in disbelief. Working with larger than life heroes. Literally. And a paid internship no less. It was like a scene out of your very own fic. Well, those could stay a secret. Especially here. 

The golden haired vet and his billionaire pal didn't need to know about your blog. Or that they were the main attraction of it. Or that you had a notebook in your bag of all the ideas that came to you as you typed away at your desk. And who would guess the new assistant was anything but a chipper upstart?

It was almost thrilling. Smiling at them as the plots whirred in your mind. The comments of other thirsty fangirls. And it was all harmless. Just fantasies. Dreams. You'd get your job experience and be on the way all while fueling your illicit hobby. 

It was busy that day. Traffic came in and out as you waved them along and checked in when Tony buzzed. It was an easy job and time passed quickly with the people.

As you looked up, you almost rolled your chair out from under you.  You dropped your pen and quickly retrieved it from your desk. You smiled up at the burly man as he approached you, a thinner, just a familiar man at his shoulder.

"Hello," You sang as you stood to greet him. "You here to see Tony?"

"Why yes I am," The large blonde boomed in response. "You are new here, my lady?"

"Started just over a week ago," You introduced yourself as he offered his hand. "And you're Thor obviously."

He smiled as the other man rolled his eyes. You righted yourself and shook off your excitement. You glanced at him meekly and cleared your throat. 

"Ah, yes, and this is Loki, my brother," Thor chuckled. "He's the quiet type."

You nodded and sat back down. "I'll let him know you're here if you wanna head in."

"Certainly, but if you don't mind, my brother will stay out here." He elbowed Loki playfully, "He's not exactly permitted beyond the desk."

"It was a joke," Loki grumbled, "Your midgardian friends need to evolve a sense of humour."

"Just sit down," Thor turned back to Loki. "And don't give her too much trouble."

Loki rolled his eyes again and retreated. "Don't worry, brother," He sat among the line of chairs, "I'm not so easily amused."

Thor sighed and turned back as he headed past your desk with another smile.  Loki leaned back and draped one leg over the other. You took out your cell and hid it behind your monitor as you checked your notifications. 

You scrolled for a while and set it aside. Several visitors and regulars passed but a tension remained. The office phone rang and you answered with your usual chime. You turned halfway in the chair as you took the call.

You got down to search through the files in your drawer and as you sat up, you found a lithe figure standing not far from your desk. Loki examined the framed photo of Stark and his lab in London. You finished up your call and hung up as he turned away.

He sat again and tapped his toe impatiently. He ran his long fingers down the lapel of his dark suit as he leaned heavily on his elbow. His green eyes stared dully at the wall opposite him, just right of your desk. You peeked at him and squinted. He caught you before you could look away. He smirked.

You looked down and scribbled along the border of the calendar across your desk. You could sense him watching you. You ignored him as you waited for his brother to return. You slid your phone closer and swiped it open. A message blipped in your inbox.

‘Very intriguing stories’. It read. You hurriedly tapped in a ‘thank you’, hit send and locked your phone again. You stared at the screensaver as it bubbled up the monitor.

Finally, you heard that deep voice again. You glanced over your shoulder as Thor appeared beside your desk with Tony. They chuckled as they neared but Loki did not rise. 

“Fine. You keep him in line and I can put up with him. I let the rest of the team know.” Tony said.

“Oh, you know, he’s not all bad,” Thor grinned at Loki and beckoned him over with two fingers. He didn’t move. “He’s a changed god. Trust me.”

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed skeptically. “We’ll see but you understand, it all comes down on you.”

“You two are much more alike than you think,” Thor laughed. “You both worry too much!” He turned and swept over to Loki. “Come on, brother, before your sour face changes his mind.”

Loki stood with a huff but followed his brother out; chin held high and eyebrow arched. Tony shook his head and leaned on your desk. 

“Word of warning: avoid that one.” He grumbled and you nodded with a shy smile. “Oh, and, coffee. Please. Need it after that one.”

🖋️

Thor and Loki became another staple in the office. By the end of your first month, you were over being star struck. The avengers, the worldly heroes, they were all just your co-workers. And they were nice. Nat brought you a frap every now and then, Steve always went out of his way to say hi, and Bruce was just happy to have someone who would smile and nod through his scientific spiels.

And your blog was booming.

Every night when you got home, you wrote and posted as much as you could. Your small following had doubled and so had your enthusiasm. You might’ve felt a tinge of guilt as you sat across the desk from America’s saviour or his grungy best friend, but they made for steamy fics. Besides, you reminded yourself, it was fiction. You knew the difference between fantasy and reality.

That didn’t always keep you from daydreaming in the office. That day you found yourself doing so several times as Tony stayed late for his last meeting and you were chained to your desk until he was done. You spun lazily in your chair and checked your phone every now and then. You wanted to write but you didn’t dare do that on a work computer.

Finally, the door opened and you looked over as the two shadows neared. Steve clapped Tony on the back. You sat, patiently patient, as you tore yourself from your thoughts. Tony checked his watch as Steve bid you farewell and waited for him to leave before he turned to you.

“Well, kid, I guess you can head out,” He said. “See ya tomorrow, bright and early?”

“You sure?” You asked coyly.

“Don’t push me. I can always find some colour-coding that needs to be done.” He teased. “I gotta find Pepper before she finds me.” He straightened his jacket. “Have a good one. And wish me luck… I’m only about an hour late.”

He strode out and you stood from your chair with a long stretch. Maybe you’d ask for an upgrade in seating. You packed up your purse and the elevator dinged again. You looked up, surprised. Steve waved awkwardly as he entered. 

“Hey, you know, I was just about to leave and I realised, well, it’s late and…” He shrugged, “You need a ride?”

“A ride?” You repeated as you grabbed your blazer from the back of your chair. “Oh, you really don’t have to--”

“It’s dark and kinda chilly. I got heated seats,” He offered. “But I can understand if you prefer those luxury subway recliners.”

 “Alright, you’ve twisted my arm.” You rounded the desk and neared him. “Thanks, Steve. You’re a real hero.”

“Well, that’s what they say,” He smiled as he led you to the elevator and hit the button. “So, where exactly am I going?”

🖋️

Once you were in the car, you were near giddy. It was a bit reminiscent of your last fic. An indulgence on your part. You resisted the urge to pull out your phone as you smiled at him from your seat, his sparkling blue eyes reflected the street lights. Captain America, the Captain America, was driving you home.

Alright, alright, settle down. He was just a man and he was just being nice. And you were terribly quiet, weren’t you?

“Um, so, how was your day?” You asked nervously.

“Ah, usual,” He said. “Tony’s such a perfectionist. We’re headed… we’ll, we’re due for a mission and he’s been lecturing me about ‘unnecessary heroics’, although I call those my job.”

“Mmm,” You nodded emphatically. “Sounds exciting… dangerous.”

“Surely more than riding a desk,” He chuckled. “How’s it going, anyway? You ready to bring a pillow with you or what?”

“Ha, yeah,” You scoffed. “I mean, I’ve had worse. There was an unpaid internship I had entirely in a mail room. Amazing experience.”

“Sounds like,” He returned as the GPS guided him down your street. “You should see if Tony can show you around the lab. He’s always keen to show off his latest toys.”

“Maybe I will,” You chirped as he pulled into your building lot. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t feel right. I was already there and--” He put the car into park as he looked at you. “And well, I’ll be honest. Forgive me if it’s a little forward but… we don’t really get much time, do we? In the office, there’s so many distractions and interruptions--”

You giggled nervously as he stretched his arm over the back of your seat.

“What I’m trying to say is it was my pleasure.”

You looked down shyly. Your cheeks burned and you slowly looked back up. You squeaked as his lips met yours. You tried to pull away but he only leaned in more. While it wasn’t entirely unwanted, you couldn’t help but think of your internship. He didn’t seem the type for one night stands and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of an office romance; even with him.

“Steve,” You finally parted, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…” He sat back and looked at his hands meekly. “I had to. I’m sorry if I--”

“Really, it… it was nice but I just don’t think…”

“You liked it though?” He interrupted.

“Of course, I mean, I--” You caught yourself and squeezed the strap of your purse. “I can’t really afford to lose this internship and this could--”

“No one needs to know,” He blurted out. “I know how these things are nowadays. I just… I really like you.”

“I don’t know,” You bit your lip. “I… um…”

“Look, I won’t pressure you.” He raised his hands. “I just was putting myself out there. I guess… bad timing.”

You looked at your purse then back to him. You peered around the car. Who would know? Well, you would and Steve would. Things might get awkward if you were to… Then again, this was a dream come true. Were you really going to get out of this car alone? You couldn’t help but wonder if reality lived up to fiction.

“You’re right,” You said quietly. “No one needs to know.”

🖋️

Steve had you off the floor before the door was closed. Your purse bounced across the carpet as he carried you past the doormat and the flimsy coat rack. He blindly lumbered around with you in his arms, your lips locked together. He fell onto the couch with you beneath him as you pushed the leather of his coat down his shoulders.

He parted to help you untangle it from his arms and was just as quick to tear your blazer off and toss it away. His tee shirt was next and your blouse barely kept its buttons as he ripped it off. You never expected such vigour from him; more a doting sore of intimacy, not that you were complaining. 

You slipped out of your heeled oxfords and he kicked off his own shoes as you admired his torso. Every muscle rippled beneath his flawless skin and for a moment, you felt a tickle of insecurity. Look at him. He was perfect.

The jingle of his buckle drew you back. You bit your tongue eagerly as you stood and wiggled out of your stuffy dress pants. His eyes followed your hands as you bared your thighs and stepped out of the wool. With his fly undone, he reached out and drew you to him. He kissed you again as you straddled his lap.

His hands were swift in unhooking your bra. Another surprise. You always dreamt of the clumsy pan plucked from the past. You dropped the undergarment down your arms as he cupped your tits. You flung it away and wrapped your arms around him. You tossed your head back as his lips tickled your throat and rocked atop his lap. He groaned and ran his thumbs over your nipples.

You purred and felt along his chiseled torso. You pushed your hand past his jeans and the elastic of his briefs. Your fingers slipped below as he gasped against your throat. You gripped his cock and slowly moved your hand between your bodies. He was thick and just as big as you imagined; maybe bigger. 

He bent his head and kissed along your chest. You arched your back and twined your fingers through his hair. You held him to you as you stroked him and he kneaded your ass hungrily. He lifted his ass easily with you atop him and shoved his pants down his thighs until he sprung out. 

You carried your motion as he fell back against the couch. His hands trailed up your sides and back again. He gripped your hips then dragged his nails down your thighs. He nodded as you bit your lip and got up on your knees. You hovered over him and shed your panties. You straddled him again and lined him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him as you slid your hand down his length. 

He squeezed your thighs and let out a long moan as you took all of him. You pulled your hand away and grasped his shoulders. He was a lot and your walls strained around him. You shuddered and his fingers danced up your curves.

“Go slow,” He said.

You nodded and tilted your pelvis carefully. Your breaths were shaky as you lifted yourself up and he impaled you once more. You leaned back with your hands on his thighs as you tried to ease the pressure. His eyes roved your body as you rocked your hips, slowly building your tempo.

“That’s it,” He uttered. 

He explored your body with one hand and his other rested just below your stomach. He pressed his thumb to your clit. You bucked and sped up as he played with you. You huffed as you arched your back and rode him wildly. Your eyes rolled back as you chased your orgasm. The tendrils that stretched over your flesh and strangled you in bliss.

Your climax shook you. He grasped your hips and kept you moving as your arms trembled weakly. “So naughty,” He whispered. His voice was low, dusky; so unlike his own. “So delectable.”

Your vision was blurry as you lifted your head. You let him use your body as another orgasm rose. You sat up as he guided you up and down his cock. You whined as you came and closed your eyes in rapture.

You cried out as you were suddenly flipped onto you back. He didn’t miss a beat as he fucked you into the cushions, your legs splayed around him. His snarls were animalistic, ravenous, as he rutted into you. You babbled and grabbed weakly at his thick arms planted beside your head.

He pulled out and grunted. A warmth spilled down your thighs as he pushed himself back onto his knees. He watched as he stroked himself over the edge and his golden hair fell forward. You sighed as you touched your forehead dazily. He caressed your thighs as he caught his breath.

“Wow,” You murmured.

“Yeah,” He panted. “Wow.”

🖋️

In the back of your mind, you dreaded the early morning but you were too elated to care. Too intoxicated by your lust to worry about the body next to you as you fell asleep. Your double bed was barely big enough for both of you but you didn’t mind his warmth as he slung his arm over you. You dozed contently; floating in a river of bliss.

You woke with a snort. Your face was buried in the pillow and the sky was still dark outside. You sat up groggily and felt your way to the bathroom. You relieved yourself and rinsed off the remnants of your tumble. You stumbled back to the bedroom, eager to squeeze in a few more hours before you had to drag yourself back to the tower. 

You tiptoed out to the living room and grabbed your phone before you got back into bed, careful not to disturb your guest. As you laid back and lit up your phone, you dropped it on your chest. You lifted it and held up the glow to the pillow next to yours. That wasn’t Steve.

You swore loudly and threw your phone at Loki. His eyes shot open as yours began to adjust to the dark. You pushed yourself up as he caught your wrist. A low snicker sent a chill through you as he tugged you closer. His arm snaked up below you and he pulled you against him.

“’His eyes spoke of his sin, but his body promised heaven.’” He slithered and you froze. “Poetry, almost.”

“You-- How did you--” You cringed at your own words; written for your lascivious blog.

“I do wonder what he would think,” Loki clung to you as you squirmed. “I don’t think he’d be so eager as all that.”

“How could you-- You tricked me,” You pushed against his shoulders.

“I gave you what you wanted,” He said. “And you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it, dear.”

“I thought you were...him,” You stuttered. “I never would have--”

“I can be him,” You felt the change, heard it in his voice. “Or maybe another favourite.” His voice deepened and you recognized Bucky’s sonorous tones.

“No, no,” You whined desperately. “Stop! Please.”

“Stop?” His voice returned to normal and he turned so that you were atop him, his arms firmly around you. “Oh, but I am your biggest fan, dear. I have but one suggestion.” He stared at you through the dim. “I’d be a great addition to your repertoire.”

“You’re sick!” You snarled. “You--you--”

“I know your secret,” He sneered. “I admit, your little tales would make for some fascinating conversation among those ridiculous Avengers but I think you might just find yourself no longer welcome among them.”

“You wouldn’t,” You hissed.

“What makes you think that?” He taunted.

“What do you want?” You breathed.

“I’m sure your dirty little mind can answer that,” His hand wandered lower and you felt the twitch between you. “Hmm?”

You shook your head; mortified, shocked.

“You can resist it but I feel your heart racing; the heat coursing through your veins… mmm, that would make for great prose, wouldn’t it?”

“Please…” You begged.

“Oh, I can please you,” He said. “You just have to let me, dear.”

He rolled you onto your back in a moment and his hand crawled along your stomach cloyingly. You stared at him, his silhouette limned in the dull light that streamed in past the curtains. He slowly retreated as he lowered his head. His lips made you shiver as he laid a trail of kiss along your chest.

“Loki…” You whispered.

“Louder,” He spoke against your skin.

“Loki,” You said louder. “Please, don’t.”

He continued his path along your stomach, a hand played with your tits blindly as he did. You trembled as he reached the vee of your pelvis. His teeth grazed your hip bone and you closed your eyes. You caught his hand on your chest.

“Loki,” You said again.

“My dear,” He raised his head. “I’m about to put your stories to shame.”

He slipped his fingers up along your ass and between your folds. You winced as he bent his head and his cool tongue met his fingers at your clit. You inhaled sharply and tilted your pelvis against him. He purred in approval as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

You reached down to stop him and he flicked his tongue. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you urged him on. Your legs bent around him as he nestled between them. He hooked his hands around your thighs and held on as he lost himself in you. You writhed as he suckled and lapped, soon breathless and mewling.

You bucked your hips as you came and he held you firm as he coaxed you over the edge. He was slow to pull away and you covered your face as he sat up in the dark. 

“Don’t be shy, dear,” He drew your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to be with me. I know everything. I’ve read every story a dozen times.” He pinned your hands beside your head. “And I want to live them all.”

He held you down as he dipped his pelvis. You felt his tip along your cunt and held your breath. There was one part of himself he hadn’t changed. The head of his cock slid along your folds and he slowly pushed inside as he found your entrance. You gasped as he plunged into you entirely. He lingered and basked in the feel of you around him.

He wasn’t slow this time. Or gentle. As he thrust, he jerked your entire body and the bed swayed beneath you. You were still tender from before and you whimpered as he rocked into you. His motion was deliberate and deep. He was sure to make you feel it. He squeezed your wrists until your fingers were numb.

“Say it,” He snarled as he pounded into you. “Say my name.”

“Loki,” You cried out. “Loki!”

“Again!” He commanded.

You repeated his name over and over, though you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going. It wasn’t long before your core was once more buzzing. You pushed your head back into the pillow and gritted your teeth as the chant turned erratic. You squealed as you came, the syllables uttered pathetically.

He released your wrist as he sat back. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up against his torso but never wavered. He hammered into you as he held your legs to his shoulders and you groped desperately at the blanket. The springs of the bed were noisy and added to the salacious sounds of your fucking. 

He stopped suddenly. A few final spasms as he hugged your legs to him and gave a soft groan. You felt the warmth seep through you. He dropped your legs and they fell around him as he breathed heavily. He rocked his hips a few times before he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum as it leaked out onto the sheets.

He ran his hand along your thigh and squeezed it. He nudged you and when you didn’t move, he forcefully rolled you over. He slapped your ass as he pushed your legs together and straddled your thighs. You lifted your head and he shoved it back down..

“My dear,” He slithered. “I think I might just be your best story.”

[nekowriteshaikyuu]

Bad day part 2

the world just seems to be against you, all the time.

pairing : tsukishima x reader

warnings : none

summary : having a bad day, you always want time for yourself. Your friend, tsukishima, is all out to give it to you.

a/n : @redrxbel suggested for a part 2 !! didn’t know this was worth a part 2 but i hope this is okay !! feel free to send requests in my inbox X3 enjoy !!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ tsukishima kei ♥

it’s not surprising to you that this week was just as bad as the previous ones. You left your wallet in the train, causing you to be late for school just so you can retrieve it back. You tripped and fell on the floor, scraping your knee and elbows. But what’s worse to top it all of, was that you fell onto someone’s lap, crushing their region area. Everyone was basically laughing at you. You bowed, apologizing to him but ended up knocking heads with him, making him fall backwards. The laughter grew and all you could do was run out of the classroom, slamming the door behind and unconsciously making your way to the gym.

“y-y/n ?! are you okay ?! what happened ?” a concerned yamaguchi was all over you as you busted into the gym, panting for air. You slowly made your way to the bench, hefting a sigh as you stare to the ground. Fortunately, the volleyball team was on break and everyone was out of the gym except for yamaguchi and tsukki, who stayed to pick up the loose balls that was scattered around the gym.

“aww, looks like someone’s having a rough time again.” tsukki snickered behind yamaguchi as he kept the last ball into the basket. you slowly explained the humiliating moment, and that you’re too embarrassed to return to class to retrieve your bag alone. Yamaguchi slowly soothes your back, handing you his water bottle for you to drink. All you did was control your breathing, as well as trying to hold back the tears from streaming down your cheeks.

Tsukki sat beside you, and you knew he was ready to spout more embarrassing moments just to tease you. Before he could even open his mouth, you slowly turn to him. Stretching your hand ever so slightly, with your index finger out, you slowly tapped tsukki’s shoulder. three times. He looked at you and sighed before nodding. He sat quietly beside you, as you stare back to the ground, having a moment of peace to ease the uncomfortable feeling. All in while yamaguchi was observing. How you tapped tsukki’s shoulder, and him responding in silence. His antenna was standing straight with curiosity. Did something bad happened while he was absent previously ?

“y-y/n, wait here , alright ? i’ll go retrieve your belongings.” yamaguchi reassured as he drag tsukki along and left you in the gym alone for you ease up. You felt better the minute you hear their footsteps fade. You slowly closed your eyes as you take the moment to calm down from the embarrassing situation that happened not long ago.

~

Yamaguchi fiddled with his fingers as he take short glances towards his tall friend. He wanted to ask, but he felt like tsukki won’t respond to his question. Maybe he was stepping over the friendship line, or was it he wasn’t allowed to know in the first place?

“what is it ?” Yamaguchi shot up straight from the harsh tone that came from his best friend. He slowly turned to him, flashing a smile while rubbing his nape.

“tsukki, what was that just now? you know, between you and y/n.” Tsukki tilt his head as he process his friend’s question. it wasn’t long before he understood what Yamaguchi was asking.

“i gave y/n some peace. If not, i’d be spouting the time she got overly excited with the upcoming chapter of her new manga when her ice cream flew to someone’s shoe.” he answered with pure honesty, while giving a straight face. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but giggled a little, recalling that embarrassing moment.

Before they knew it, they made it back to the classroom and opened the door. Everyone left so there was just your bag and the guy who you fell onto. He turned to find yamaguchi and tsukki retrieving your stuff and taking it with them.

“uh ! wh-where’s y/n?” the boy caught their attention. He seemed rather concerned.

“non of your business, why?” tsukki respond cold-heartedly.

“well uh, she fell on top of me and got embarrassed. Everyone was laughing at her and she ran out the room, slamming the door behind. We thought we really humiliated her so we stayed to apologies but she never returned. Do you mind passing the message to her?” he stuttered in every word. Tsukki hummed before nodding, leaving the classroom with yamaguchi behind.

They both returned back to the gym, with the sight of you scrolling through twitter on your phone. Tsukki set your bag down beside you, before plopping on the bench. Yamaguchi came up from behind before slowly sitting next to you.

“feeling better ?” yamaguchi asked and you happily nod as you gave him a smile.

“ah! the guy, who you fell on top of, he said that everyone apologized for laughing at you, so don’t worry about feeling embarrassed returning to class tomorrow !” He pat your head before averting his eyes to tsukki, who was closing his eyes and leaning back on the wall. you too turned to him, and a smile was pasted onto your face.

“thanks, for the silent treatment.” you said and tsukki slowly opened his eyes to find you and yamaguchi looking at him. He just hummed and nod again before closing his eyes again. Yamaguchi was smiling , knowing that his tall blonde four-eyed friend cared for you even if he doesn’t show it the way yamaguchi does. The three of you didn’t utter a word for a while. before tsukki spoke, breaking the silence.

“remember the time you kicked the ball so hard that it flew to our chemistry teacher’s head?” he recalled. his voice echoing in the gym.

“tsukishima !” you slapped his arm and pout, sending death glares towards the four-eyed glasses boy. you could hear yamaguchi giggled, and before you knew it, all three of you were laughing from your embarrassing moment.

You’re never this appreciated to have such amazing and understanding friends.

------𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝕜𝕖𝕚------

a/n: aaah haikyuu really ended TT. i actually wanted to write an Oikawa x reader but all my drafts doesn’t match well with him TwT (and that i spent almost the whole day reading the last few chapters of haikyuu huhuhu). Aaah, still can’t let go of the fact haikyuu ended, i teared up so much reading it my eyes are stinging. Thank you furudate, your hard work paid of<3

anyways i hope this is okay !! X33

[hi-rubi]

hi Rubi this is 👁 anon!! I sent you an ask off anon but I figured I’d send you another and try to say something else. I read another person’s ask that said your writing balances toxicity and redemption well, and I have to say I really agree with that. I love that you don’t shy away from having your characters do shitty things and then having them suffer through the consequences of said things. I think that’s a really mature way of exploring and handling certain darker topics, and it does show that deep down you believe (or want to believe) that people can change and evolve and be better, whether for themselves or for love etc! it’s been something I think about a lot - the way that in your stories, no one is inherently unlovable; characters who believe that eventually realize their own worth, and they learn to fight for themselves.

(sorry this is gonna get long and I hope this doesn’t count as trauma-dumping?) recently I kinda took a step back from a friendship I had with my ex-crush: I really liked him, he didn’t like me that way, and it was hard on both of us? like we changed. we were best friends for a few months and he’d be the first person I talked to when I woke and the last I talked to before I slept. at some point he called me his best friend and deliberately made time to talk to me (like he worked on his class work beforehand so he could message me during class). and when he got a lot more distant I actually would just wrestle with myself and the feelings of loneliness and rejection. I once wrote you a very rambly long anon that I’m slightly ashamed about (bc I really shouldn’t have trauma-dumped in your inbox), but anyway... I realized there were some key differences between us (funnily enough the dispute was about the Mineta update; I was like “omg not Mineta” and he was like “these people suck for looking for representation in the wrong places”) and then I realized... this wasn’t good for me. I tried to not love him (and I will say I’m not in love with him anymore for sure) but it always hurts when you’re the one that’s more invested, right? not his fault that he’s not as invested though bc we don’t owe each other anything. so yeah I’m just taking steps back to not be so dependent on him (bc it’s draining to the both of us)! (it’s kinda sad that I’d been writing in my journal since April about how sad I’d felt about him distancing himself, and that it’s taken Four Months for me to actually stand up for myself and say what I wanted to say, but at least it’s done now! that’s something to be proud of, right? I never used to stand up to people I loved. I’d internalize everything, and then my self-esteem would just sink lower and lower. I’m glad that while this guy wasn’t It for me, at least he’s decent enough and cares about my feelings.)

anyway this long rant is just for me to say that reading your fics has been cathartic for me. the first time I read your fics (I think the rich boy Shoto one), I was sobbing by the time I read to part 5. I felt really lonely and I was wishing he would love me. but like slowly as I kept reading and kept thinking and evaluating, I realized I don’t need /him/ to love me. and sure I’m not perfect and I might have some of my own kinds of toxicity, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worth loving! I’m still working hard to love myself. I’m learning to be compassionate with myself while not giving myself excuses for toxic behavior (eg passive-aggressiveness, overthinking, etc).

I just wanted to tell you that you are a beautiful person (both in and out!!). I could tell this not just from what you write, but from how you interact with the people in your inbox, whether anonymous or not. you have such a big heart, and you pour so much of yourself into your writing. I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with. but also I’m so glad for you that you’re starting to see more hope and light, and hopefully you’re starting to need this coping mechanism less. you are wonderful, not just in what you give others, but in what you are.

when I was looking for MHA smut in the tumblr tag I wasn’t expecting to feel all of this and to experience this change. thank you for that. know that in your journey, there are people who are rooting for you!! love, 👁 anon

p.s. I read your ask about New York and I hope you feel a little more at home now!! you sound like an amazing person to be friends with. even though I’m nowhere near New York (I’m moving from my country to the UK which is still far from NYC), I hope someday I’ll be able to befriend someone like you! and I hope you enjoy the city and the friendships and the drinking and all of it 💜 take care Rubi! known you are loved. the stars cast their love on you.

Ohhhhh my gosh. Eye anon I have so many thoughts putting under cut.

I literally went through the exact same thing. That guy was the reason I wrote half my pieces. Like, scumbag bakusquad and all these other works were about HIM. I know SO WELL how you must feel right now. It is the worst, most painful fucking feeling in the world. The only reason I got over that guy was literally because I went on Wellbutrin (an antidepressant), and I realized my fixation with him (and other guys/things in the past) was quite literally because of my mental illness.

Please, please, please, PLEASE cut him off entirely. I think you mentioned you took a step back from your friendship; I want you to stop reaching out and messaging him completely. You don't have to take my advice, but if I could go back in time and tell myself something, it would be this:

Romanticize your life. Start working out and eating healthy. Get to a point where you feel good about your body. Switch up your fashion and wear shit you'd never normally wear. Experiment with makeup. Meet and talk to as many new people as you can. Go to new places in your city, whether it's a cool new library 30 minutes away or a pretty flower exhibit at the arboretum. Fall deeply in love with your friends and your family. If I were to write a story about you: you are literally a kind, beautiful main character who is moving to the new UK for a fresh start after being hurt in the past, and learns to love herself and others in the process.

Above all, never, ever get upset with yourself for falling for someone. You are an amazing person full of so much love, and he was someone you chose to bless with your emotions. But you probably love so many other things around you- your friends, the crisp air when you go on 7 AM morning runs, the nice lady who compliments your skirt at the store....... he is not unique. He's just one lucky person that got to experience your feelings.

You see how when you romanticize your life and paint yourself as the main character of your narrative, it helps shift everything into perspective? That is what helped me get over him. While my medication did most of the heavy lifting, that mentality just changed the game for me. I hope that you can internalize that, too. It takes a ton of work but I believe in you, and I want to hear updates on how beautiful your life is!! I would also recommend writing it all in a journal/online diary of some sort.

Whoa. You brought up.... SUCH an incredible point. "I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with." You're so right, it was destructive. I was always so absorbed in the cathartic part of it that I was always confused why I felt so destroyed afterwards. I literally wrote that quote doc on my "romanticization" document. There's something so beautiful and poetic about that line.

Thank you so, so much for sending this in. Your incredibly sweet words made me reread this message so many times and also save it. I really really appreciate you being here and I'm so happy I met you <3 Sorry this answer was SO long but eye anon I just.......... I'm just hugging you so hard right now. It feels like I'm talking to myself from the past and I just want you to know that I know what you're going through, and you will persevere.