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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you.

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled.

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

��Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy.

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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I know this is like taking a bat to the beehive but... I really wanna hear your opinions on the whole... Imprinting thing

(Note before we go any further: this meta is written purely about the shapeshifting aspect of the Quileute characters, I don’t at all get into the racism in Twilight or any kind of social commentary. This is a purely watsonian meta. Others in this fandom have already addressed the racial dynamics at play, far more eloquently and knowledgeably than me. If I say something in here that’s in any way offensive, that’s not my intention and I’m open to criticism.)

Ooh imprinting.

I touch upon it here, basically I hate it.

The imprinting is part of this theme where the shapeshifters lose their free will and autonomy, and I find it tragic, cruel, and unnecessary.

First of, the fact that they have to phase at all.

They’re made warriors to protect their tribe. There’s no choice involved, only genetics and magic irrevocably changing their lives, and at a ridiculously young age, too. Sam is the oldest of them, and he is 19.

Violence is an inherent part of what they become. Their purpose is to protect the tribe, by fighting vampires. Not only is this insanely dangerous (we see Jake get so injured by a single vampire that he’s bedridden for weeks), but if they succeed, they will have killed. In the singularly brutal manner of tearing apart and burning someone who looks a lot like a human, who talks and might beg for their life, at that. And I remind you, most of these shapeshifters are literal children. They might not see vampires as people, but all the same, killing one can’t be good for their mental wellbeing. (Thought: Perhaps an argument can be made for Laurent’s death having a part in the turn Jake’s personality took? Some, though not many, of the symptoms for PTSD do fit. I don’t know enough about PTSD to pursue this train of thought, but it occurred to me just now, in particular he becomes quite aggressive and prone to outbursts after that incident, so into a parenthesis it goes)

Not to mention how inhumane that responsibility is. Vampires in the Twilight-verse are terrifying, and the shapeshifters might have the power to fight them. But (and this is where I plug one of my all-time favorite animes, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, as it asks the question “Is it okay to sacrifice yourself for others?” because that’s... well there’s a parallel to be made to the shapeshifters. It’s on Netflix!) does that mean they should? Is it really their responsibility? Again- they’re kids!

Then there’s the time Sam lost control, and accidentally mauled the girl he loved. And it’s so cruel to both him and Emily. Sam never chose to have to control himself in the first place, he never chose shapeshifting. He didn’t choose to imprint on Emily either, and he didn’t choose to lose control that day. At no point in the series of events that led to Emily being mauled did Sam have any real choice, and yet he will shoulder the guilt for what happened for the rest of his life.

These kids get superpowers, and several of them seem to enjoy being shapeshifters, but the fact remains that they now carry this huge responsibility to protect their families and homes, doing so is incredibly dangerous, they lose out on their regular lives, and they can’t opt out of it.

This all sucks, but then we get to the fact that they are deprived of their free will, as their alpha can issue an order they physically can’t break. The alpha becomes alpha because of bloodlines, not because of a democratic election. Jake got a mockery of a choice in that he could choose to become alpha himself, or let Sam continue, which was really just choosing between a rock and a hard place. There is no limitation to what this order can be, from “don’t say X to person Y” to “let’s kill someone you love”. Jake has to struggle to break that last one, and he’s only successful because of the bloodline thing letting him become his own alpha.

Oh, and there’s the massive invasion of privacy when they have a hive mind. Cool concept, less cool to have it be reality. Leah is the poster child for how a hive mind can backfire, and they can’t opt out of this.

I’m not good at gifs, but the shapeshifters just make me think of that gif of someone flicking a lightswitch on and off, “WELCOME TO HELL!”. Of course, Twilight in general is a pit of despair for everybody, so I suppose that gif really is... well it sums up all of canon.

So, we have these kids aged 19 or younger, as of Breaking Dawn they skew as young as thirteen, their lives are turned upside down by something they can’t opt out of, they must shoulder this huge responsibility to protect their homes and families from the terrifying threat of vampires, and on top of all of that, they must obey orders that are so irresistible, they can compel them to harm someone they care for.

With all of that in mind, you’d think that the shapeshifters had enough on their plate. That through all of this they would at least retain their selves, and be able to look forward to a future where they could stop phasing, and go on to live normal, human, lives.

Yeah, NOT IF THEY IMPRINT.

I’ll just quote Jake’s description:

Everything inside me came undone as I stared at the tiny porcelain face of the halfvampire, half-human baby. All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was—my love for the dead girl upstairs, my love for my father, my loyalty to my new pack, the love for my other brothers, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my self—disconnected from me in that second—snip, snip, snip—and floated up into space.

I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was.

Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing—to the very center of the universe.

I could see that now—how the universe swirled around this one point. I’d never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain.

The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood. (Breaking Dawn, page 237)

Everything that made me who I was disconnected from me.

Jake’s love for his father, his home, his very own self, it’s all gone now. And while I have thoughts on the authenticity of this imprint, whether it was organic, the description above is apparently how imprinting feels. It’s along the lines of what Sam, Jared, and Paul all describe.

I don’t think I can put into words just how devastating I find imprinting, I think the above quotation speaks for itself. And as with all other shapeshifter things, there is no choice involved.

We see its devastating effects in the Emily, Sam, and Leah debacle. Sam and Leah were serious together, so much so that they were engaged. Sam had fallen for and chosen to be with Leah. Perhaps they would have broken up eventually, but Leah was still the choice he made. Then he imprints on Emily, and all that is for naught. He had to break up with Leah, who if she hadn’t phased never would have learned why, Emily and Leah’s relationship is ruined, and Emily must forever live with the knowledge that if Sam had his free will intact he would be with another woman.

Then there’s Jared and Kim. Kim crushed on Jared, but Jared never noticed her. The fact that they were in the same class is damning: if a boy is attracted to a girl, he's gonna notice her. Jared never did.

Quil imprints on Claire, who is a toddler. That’s just a recipe for misery and disaster all around.

And I’ve only touched the shapeshifter side of things. They lose their autonomy and freedom, but the imprintées draw the short straw too. They’re now responsible for this other person’s happiness. Sure, having someone who’ll be whatever you need them to be sounds nice (well, it sounds horrifying, but I’m playing ball) on paper, but you can’t opt out of them being like that. The imprintée can’t say “Sorry, not interested,” and she certainly can’t shut the imprinter out of her life, not without irrevocably ruining the imprinter’s life. The imprinter needs her. She’s the center of his earth now, but she didn’t choose to be.

Imprinting is a liferuiner for everyone involved.

Then we have the question of what imprinting is even for. I’m afraid I agree with Billy, that it’s for procreation. We see Sam, who was dating a woman about to phase (even if Leah isn’t infertile, she’s a warrior now. She can’t run in the woods and fight vampires, and gestate and nurse a child at the same time) conveniently imprint on her cousin, who as cousin to Leah is from a shifter bloodline. Claire, as Emily’s cousin, has those same genetics. Paul imprints on a woman from the Black family line. Jake is the outlier, but either Renesmée’s gift helped that imprinting along, or he imprinted because of the offspring they could potentially have (I firmly believe it’s the former because the latter... NOPE. Also, I can’t imagine whatever magic drives imprinting would want vampiric progeny for the future generations. Regardless of Renesmée’s person, her biology is wired to desire human blood. That’s exactly what Jake is supposed to protect people from. Bad match.).

I just.... ughhh. God, I hate imprinting so much, and on every level.

To me, everything about the shapeshifters is about free will, autonomy, and the loss thereof. And it would have been beautiful if their story was about reclaiming that, but it isn’t. None of this, with the exception of the alpha orders, is even acknowledged.

So, in summation, yes I hate imprinting, but it’s only the horror cherry on top of a very sad and problematic cake.

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liesoverthec · 3 years

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the post hasn't surfaced yet so please use this ask to talk abt the objectification of the 911 men!!

Ahh May you’re too nice but also thank you, I’m gonna 😂💛

This got. CRAZY long bc I just had a million thoughts so I’m gonna stick it under a cut.

To be honest, I think the reason they do *any* sort of objectification at all is that middle aged and older viewers are used to being able to objectify actors to a certain extent. Lord knows it happens on literally every other single piece of media, and this is a mainstream broadcast show, not an indie series or the likes, so I think they have to cater to those people as well as us, and the WAY they do it is so interesting to me bc even when they’re doing it, they use it as a way to drive home other, deeper messages.

For starters, I feel like the show OG was trying to be in the pilot and the first few episodes would have objectified the men WAY more than we see now if there hadn’t been that shift in tone - the sex addict plot could have been SO much more extended and given us a lot more opportunities to see Buck shirtless and to objectify him and his body. So I find it SO interesting that around the same time as Bobby opening up about his family and his past, we also stop w/ Buck being blatantly shirtless all the time. Narratively, it signals to me the point where the writers moved away from the the typical tv show that will treat their actors like meat, and moved more into a “female gaze” show. And then what’s really interesting to me, is that for Buck, after that, when he has sex w Taylor Kelly in s2, both times we NEVER see him undressed. The second time they don’t get very far, but he’s wearing a buttonable shirt. He absolutely could have been wearing that shirt closed, and she could have opened it, and he could have been wearing nothing underneath it, and we would have seen his chest again in a sexy scenario - but they didn’t. In fact they made the DELIBERATE choice to give him an undershirt. And of course with the first time they cut away and just left us w the understanding that sex was happening, yet again taking away an opportunity to show O.S. at least partially undressed. Which is SO different from how s1 goes about it, where we actually see Buck w his shirt open and his underwear exposed MULTIPLE times. So it’s so incredibly interesting to me that while none of the (main/regular) women’s stories are ever about sex like Buck’s is, I also think it’s REALLY interesting that the objectification of the men was, and could have been, much worse and that they didn’t have to move away from that, but they did.

But then secondly! The very last time we get into a plot that revolves around the men’s bodies specifically is in 2x01, which is SUCH an interesting plot. Surface level - it’s just about the men competing about who’s more attractive, and we get lots of muscle flexing and hot manliness to go along with it. And it is, at a surface level, incredibly shallow. But simultaneously they use it to 1. Introduce the idea that Buck wasn’t a sex addict bc he was “dealing w the stress of the job” like s1 mostly implied. It was bc he’s desperate to feel useful and wanted by someone, and at that point he really wanted that acceptance within the firehouse, rather than from other people. (Bc lbr, Abby didn’t do shit for Buck. It was Bobby, opening up and accepting the family, and specifically Buck, that gave him the connection he’d been seeking through sex.) And then 2. They also use it as an opportunity to SPECIFICALLY, IN CANON, say that it’s what you do that makes you attractive, and that makes you a hero, not how you look. Which is just!!! A crazy message!!! Especially considering they follow through on it, particularly in the areas where the women are concerned!

And in regards to 2x01, it’s soooooo fucking interesting to me that the ONLY time we really truly see Eddie shirtless, he’s actually putting clothes ON. They literally do the opposite trope of 'giving the hot male an excuse to take his shirt off'. And sure, they make it a sexy moment, but there's absolutely interesting commentary there about him actively covering himself up at the moment he is most sexualized, and it being taken as a sexy thing. Something about how you don't have to be naked to be attractive, it's about your intent in your actions, rather than your physical body. (Probably me reading too far into it, but again, they COULD have had him striping off his regular shirt, a good few seconds of him shirtless digging through a bag, and THEN the sexy slow mo pulling shirt on. At the very least, when they objectify him there, they make it MUCH shorter than they could have, which is SO DAMN INTERESTING to me).

But then finally, we still do have shirtless scenes! But the fact that it’s Chim who’s shirtless is just SO FASCINATING. Bc THE WAY THEY DO IT - they're never dunking Chim in a lake, or having something spilled on him, like other shows would do, to get his shirt clinging to him and him to whip it off in a spray of water or whatever. It's in scenes where it makes sense for him to be shirtless, and its NEVER treated like a big deal. It's just Chim, in his body, comfortably living his life. So I think the way they do it gives him more respect than other shows give their male characters, let alone their female characters 💀

And it's SO interesting to me that they use Chim (I mean, besides the fact that K.C. clearly has muscles for days and wow of course you'd use Chim). But I just think - on any other show, it would absolutely be Buck who we see casually shirtless. And that WAS almost this show, which is why we saw him shirtless at all. But failing that, it should have been Eddie. And then of course, after Eddie, it should be Bobby. I mean, plenty of other shows go for the 'sexy middle-aged white man' (cough cough LS) so Bobby would be the next logical step in the "who are we gonna make our hot man?" ladder, also - P.K. has BICEPS THAT COULD CRUSH ME so I would not blame them for making him the hot one.

But - like I said in my tags on my original post - I'm always thinking about Chim's story in 2x01 with the calendar, and feeling like he never gets to be the hero (WHICH I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT HOW BEING THE HERO IS EQUATED THERE TO BEING THE HOT ONE, SO LIKE, CHIM BEING SHIRTLESS, SUBTLE REINFORCEMENT OF HIM BEING A HERO!) I love that for him, being the truly hot one on the team. And then you throw in his story from 2x04, and feeling like his life wasn't going anywhere and seeing him now, comfortable in his body and his life and being happy??

I wish no one had to be objectified and shirtless but I know this is broadcast tv, and honestly, the choice for it to be Chim, with his story and his background, in itself is I think a choice that makes me happy.

Of course, the show is nowhere near perfect, and I’d argue that it’s one of the areas they fall shortest in. Buck sleeping w his therapist would never have happened for a woman on this show, and it CERTAINLY wouldn’t have been brushed off again as a joke like it was in s3. And it really bothered me in 4x07 when the lady slapped Eddie’s ass, esp since he was clearly uncomfortable with it. I’d actually really enjoy seeing them write a plot for one of the men that addresses them feeling oversexualized as firefighters, and how people seem to think they have permission since the men are all public employees, bc I think the show could do it really well, and I think it’s an area that hasn’t been addressed on other shows recently (plus lbr I know I’m biased but I think OG would do it better if it has been done…)

So idk. I don’t know if I have a solid conclusion here. The show does SUCH a good job with the women, and a solidly less good job with the men - but I also see some really interesting choices at work that I really respect.

Thanks for the opportunity May, sorry if there was no coherent thread to this. 😂🤷‍♀️

#911 fox #asked and answered #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #the one area re:the men I think they do super super well in #is the fact that none of them experience or act w any sort of toxic masculinity #we’ve seen all of them cry MULTIPLE times #and they’re comfortable being vulnerable w both men and women #and none of their personalities are built are ‘hello I am a MAN’#which I really really like and enjoy

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samissosexyyy · 3 years

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Tumblr thought it would be hilarious to delete all my work and not let me answer requests :').

YES I SHALL WRITE THE PLATONIC ANGRY PARENTS-

And thank you-I woke up and was talking to my friend in the morning and my brain just: jojo villain yandere dads. Mudad mudad mudad mudad anger.

Anyways, here they are- Do these even count as headcanons???? I dunno-

Dio, Part 1

Vampire form of course.

First thing first, We all know he'd be a great dad. Protective already, But make him a yandere platonic father? Oh boy, Trust me, You'd be spoiled and treated like royalty.

Now, I'm gonna say in this scenario you were on of his victims child. I'll say you'll be around 5 to eight.

Somehow you managed to catch his eye, Is it because your parent was just as bad as his? You reminded him of his mother? Or maybe you resemble him, and have three moles on your ear. Or, perhaps, A younger joestar? Either way, You somehow had him feeling like a father, and, according to one of my friends, Araki had said DIO would treat his children like they were royalty, And they would be so spoiled.

So, Mudad would end up taking you in, kidnapping, whichever honestly. He'd be holding you like a loving pet owner would, if you got scared, he'd probably be confused. Honestly he'd have you turned into a vampire quickly, as he knew he wouldn't be able to have children as a Vampire.

Truthfully, I think you'd end up never noticing how he'd occasionally pull you closer, or how he'd glare at anyone your age or older going near you. Or how he'd give you some strict rules, Like no dating anyone. E v e r. And why would you ever want to hurt your papa like that?! You wouldn't want to do that, right?! Of course you wouldn't! Dio knew you'd never betray him like that!!

Truth be told, he'd guilt you if you tried to go against his words. But punishments? No no, He'd never actually purposefully hurt you, Unlike his love interest, he'd NEVER want to cause you pain ever. He'd hate himself and wouldn't forgive himself for years. Centuries. Infact, he'd beg for your forgiveness.

The Pillarmen

And satannnaaaaa

First of all, You aren't a pillarchild. You'd most likely be some kind of god, vampire, or a young hamon learner. Or even related to the Joestars or Ceasar.

So, Let's say you're immortal who can walk in the sun. We all know you'd be the joestar side, Right? So, That means you'd end up hating or feeling pity for the pillarmen. First, You'd probably end up trying to make Santana hally when he awakens. Unlike with Joseph, He'd probably know not to attempt to attack you. Let's say you have symbols like Dio Over heaven, We all know how that would work.

You'd end up as a being worshipped by them, probably kidnapped after they destroy the Joestars.

Let's say they defeated Joseph and the others, and you were still a deity, You'd most likely be weaker then them in this scenario. They'd probably treat you like a kitten at first, like a baby before they all felt a connection. As if you were a child of their own, so they'd give you rules. And we all know how rules go with yanderes.

Let's say uh- you fell for a mortal.

"No. No."

[Crush name has fallen from a high place.]

"DADS WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUU-"

"NO CUSSING IN THIS CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER!"

or something like that :')

Honestly, You'd have bird dad, and a bunch of other dads. Santana would honestly be like the cool big brother honestly. You'd probably want horns too so-

They would totally buy you halloween horns to put on your head so you'd be happy baby

Now, Hamon user? They'd probably find you like a cute animal at first, probably going easy on you like it was a game of tag. Soon, they'd realize how weak and fragile you are, After all, You are just starting hamon. They'd probably kidnap you to spite Joseph and his side at first, before... Well, You didn't expect to become a vampire and treated like royalty when all you've been treated like is uh... Considering Lisalisa is your coach, I'd say you'd be happy if it was someone else doing this for you.

Josephs sibling? WOAH Joseph, When did you get a cute sibling? Pfft, Not your sibling anymore, They just adopted your ex sibling nerd.

But, All jokes aside, They'd probably be surprised that you were more mature then your brother, and...you sorta resemble a certain Coach... Oh, Humans all look the same, haha.

They'd probably kidnap you infront of Joseph just to make him feel guilt and rage, After all, Why not get their prized treasure and make Joseph angry? They'd give you more rules, until Joseph was gone, of course.

And, sadly, Not even you crying would stop them from making you into a vampire infront of your big brother, breaking both of your hearts.

Don't worry you got ice cream later smh.

Ceasars sibling? Mini pancake? Haha, They'd kidnap you as soon as they felt parent like tendencies. No denying them, infact, they'd make sure you saw ceasar get defeated by the ro ck. But don't worry! You have new parents and a brother-! Haha, Poor you.

Part 3 DIO AKA mudad!

Honest to god you'd probably have to be a stand user with a weak or strong stand, or, you were one of his kids he had with a lucky woman who survived and got a naked polaroid of him as a 'wow you lived! Congrats, now go have my kid lmao' gift. Or, Maybe you were a normal kid who was kind to him, even if he,,,, did some questionable murder infront of you. And maybe you were a young

Now, Let's say you were a strong stand user. He'd end up wanting to use a flesh bud until he realized... He never had a kid, that he knows of, and decided to raise you! At first he'd be upset you had a strong stand like your mudad, but realized you could protect yourself from those dreadful joestars! Congrats, You became a Brando! :) How unlucky, Considering this DIO would probably force vampire masks onto you, or even using fleshbuds as a threat. Either way, You'll always be papas baby!

Yoshikage kira.

Like I said in my first post of this, He'd want to have a nice average life. You having a stand wouldn't be a problem, Since he'd probably convince you Josuke and the others are awful and rude.

Josukes sibling? Well, He'd end up telling you he can help your brother with his murder issue if you come with him. You don't exactly have a choice since Killer queen would easily overpower you if you had disagreed. You'd end up being a normal and peaceful child before long, Infact, He'd have to pretend he had adopted you behind his 'wifes' back.

Hayotos friend he never talks about? Congrats, You are now stuck with a crazy and loving father! And a mother, I suppose. And you get your best friend as a brother! You'd never be able to leave, how sad. But, You'd have your new mom and your dad to talk to-! And killer queen cuddle time.

Now, Let's say you were his own kid. Wowzers! You think its normal for your father to bring women hands home, after all, You are pretty young and your father told you most adults do this. Ah. How enjoyable.

Doppio/Diavolo

Oh dear. You poor child.

Either you were related to trish, and he somehow felt like you wouldn't be a problem before they felt more of a father love towards you, Most likely somehow getting rif of the traitors and your big sister.

"Where's big sister?"

"Don't worry about her, She's spending time with your mother."

Smh quit LIEING you jERK!

But seriously, Doppio would be like the fun mom asking you if you'd like bake cupcakes in his spare time! Read you bed time stories and whatnot! Diavolo would be awkward and "wanna play baseball or whatever kids like to do these days?" Awkward dad alert.

"My kid is fine!"

The kid they kidnapped/raised:

Casually trying to beat another kid with a baseball.❤💚💛

Honestly they'd insult everyone elses kids while here their kid is, casually scared of baseball.

Pucci

Papa priest! We all know he'd adopt you! I head canon him as gay, considering DIO and him were totally a thing.

So, He'd probably have you study Lord DIO bibles, and casually have you hate Jolyne. Probably even give you a stand, And even show you that DIO is the best! Worship! Protect yourself and all that!

Jotaro would probably scare you, so I can see you holding onto Pucci while Jotaro appears anytime, so pucci would infact love it when you snuggle onto him lime a cute kitten. Hell, you even Sneeze like a kitten!

Honestly You'd be kept under watch 24/7, but you'd think it was normal, after all, Your father would mever do something so awful like Those Joestars claim...right?

Diego

Oh wow- dino dad :)

Let's say you were a big fan of his, Then, Well,You wouldn't mind having him as a dad, Now would you? He is your idol, Right? Yeah. Yeah!

He'd probably carry you around upside down, Hot pants just questioning his sanity as he drops you a million times. Hot pants would probably end up carrying you most of the time.

Mama hot pants and father Diego. Y es.

And, Let's say you were traveling with Johnny. Congrats. You've put yourself in a even worse situation considering Diego would become worried and paranoid over those two idiots hurting you! And he hates the idea of his baby boy/girl/child being hurt by barbarians!!!

Even though he'd probably hurt you on accident if I'm gonna be honest.

Kidnapping isn't a very easy job, so of course he had to knock you out! What was he supposed to do?! Ask you to come stay with him forever?! No! Maybe! HuawhuKaia-

Honestly not too many rules, just don't leave his side ever! Except when going to the bathroom. You'll be tied to his horse. No whining >:(.

Funny Valentine

Honestly what did you think he was going to do? Pick some random child? No no, He'd choose the PERFECT child! You were so lucky! Wow! The daughter of the mos powerful man ever! Lucky you, Right?

No. You don't get alone time unless it's you sleeping or bathing. You wear what he wants, and no.

Dating not allowed. Bad. No no no no no.

"No. No dating. Your lips will fall off."

"but mommys lips didn't-"

"Your face will melt off."

Basically you'd be bossed around and treated like royalty, as long as you listen to you dad!

Honestly I don't know if this is headcanons, if if it isn't feel free to scream at me in the comments-

AND I AM SO SORRY ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO ACTUALLY ANSWER, SO I HOPE YOU SEE THIS AND ARE ABLE TO ENJOY IT??? I GUESS???

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yeojaa · 4 years

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ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack, smut. explicit.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities.

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020. 12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show. How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice. It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter.

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola. It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. Things have just been—” Crazy? Out of this world? Some kind of wonderful? “—hectic.” He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek. It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind.

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants. “It’s fine , Jay.” The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help. “I know you’re a busy guy. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks. You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances. A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying. Not at first, anyway. But when he does? He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter. So you were a little bit better than him. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self. He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.

“You’re mean,” he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it. “And yet you love it.”

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice. He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?” You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his. It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago. “I’m good, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.

“Yes, Mom .”

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!”

“Do you even know how old I am?” Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged. They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages? Where you grew up? Your real names? That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen? Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?” You’re chuckling at your own genius. He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve . Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him. It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

It’s a joke. Obviously , it’s a joke. He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry. It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too. “I have something to tell you.” There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity. Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push. “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.” A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted. You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent. He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening. “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…” How does he start? “I’m not just… some guy.” Okay, that sounds bad. He’s backtracking. “I mean, I’m a guy. I’m normal.” This is going so poorly. His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip. “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy. I’m actually like, uh...”

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly. He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart.

“Jinny?” It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation. Still, nothing. He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way. “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own. You’re trying to be serious, he thinks. “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.” A beat. He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission. “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault. It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!” He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.” He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice. Somehow, it feels different. Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity. “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?” Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him. “Of course not. You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this. He’s a million miles over the moon. You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” There’s no venom in your words. “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.” There’s that unabashed need to hear his name. He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.”

“Is your real name Jinny?” He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin. Jinny’s just my nickname.”

“Well, Jinny—” He says it dragged out and silly. “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first. He snorts. “I live in Seoul .”

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked. It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more. At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020. 10 PM.

Does he smell bad? Should he have showered first? Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail. They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.

“Are you nervous?” Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face. He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “Of course he is.” Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!” The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you get going?” It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet. He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on. The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room.

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love. He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.” You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet. There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun. His heart stutters in his chest. He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance. It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband.

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are. It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist. You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed. He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume. Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home. You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips. Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw. He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence. They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head. He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas. It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district.

“Your laugh is even better in person.” You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.

“Yeah?” Can you see the hearts in his eyes? He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils.

“Yeah. But don’t let that get to your head, mister.”

“Already has - sorry.”

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red; how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty. He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour. You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny. You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down. You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face. There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him. You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on.

“Open up!”

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting. He probably looks stupid as hell.

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound.

“Too hot?” You coo, feigning surprise. You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you. “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing. It burns on the way down. “You eat one now.” He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.

“I don’t like squid,” you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours. You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago. He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food. You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen. He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover. You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?” You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip. He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you. “Of course.”

“I won’t post it anywhere.”

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth. You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose. “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his. You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb. It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp. “No need,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you. He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces.

“We’ll see about that,” you return, equally as soft.

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again. It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills. He should’ve booked you something later in the day. Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea?

“Right.” He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides. He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now. The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move. It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart.

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab. You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.” There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back. It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.” There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection. Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall. Mozart would be proud.

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud. The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening. He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard. “I know.”

“You do?” He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.” You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin. “Can I kiss you?” Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.

“Hm.” The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It’s better than his wildest dreams. It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful. You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River.

“I’m sorry.” It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation. He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this. He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible. Needs it like he needs air - or more of you. Either or.

“Thanks.”

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers. He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down.

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor. You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours. He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.” A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020. 2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior. There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else. No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival. Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away. You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,” Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back. It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.

“It’s a candle,” you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots. “What for? Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has. I know your birthday.”

Right. Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge.

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical. He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear.

“I had them before I met you.”

“Right.” It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him. This is how the two of you are. Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity.

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?”

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold. If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.

“Fine, fine. Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride. It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him. You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary. There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him. There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece; there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground.

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space. Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti. A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should. Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact. There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen: limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise).

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?” He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles. You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank.

“Maybe.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork? Really?”

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up.

“What’re you doing?” You join him even as you ask. He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer. He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?” Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love. You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm.

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?”

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube. He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?” Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows.

“No.” Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.

“Why not?”

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear. It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle. He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves.

“Better?” You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world.

“Much,” he hums, unashamed.

“Welcome home, Kook.” The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest. He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet. There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room. It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game.

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game. He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in. He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew.

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.” He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.

You don’t move. He wonders when the last time you slept was.

“Jinny,” he repeats himself, a little louder this time. There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations. It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of.

Get it together , he scolds himself. In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No! Not yet.” You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly. It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.

“You want to sleep out here?” He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.

“No!” A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face. You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely. There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch. He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair. “I have a gift for you.”

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken. He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes. He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?” You’re looking at him with the strangest expression. He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does. It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him. “I do.”

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart. It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different. It’s urgent but not rushed; he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations. His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours. You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw. Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose. He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.” You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most. He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?” The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands.

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind. You really could read him like a book. He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,” you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.

“Show me how sorry.”

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south. He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you.

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan. “Seriously - dream girl.”

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church. They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh. His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?” He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile.

You’re impatient though - always have been. “Straight down the hall. Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight. Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,” he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.” You say it a lot. He wonders if you really know.

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea. It’s not enough, though. He wants to show you - needs to show you.

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious. “Are you sure you know?” The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes. “Maybe?” You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do. It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?” He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped. For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour. A force to be reckoned with . “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer. You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?” You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one.

“Yes,” you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted. There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed. You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,” he says simply. It’s gone before you can think twice. Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was. The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist. “Please don’t hide from me.”

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?” He means your tattoos, of course. They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream. There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink. Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green. Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows. He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion. You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.” He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out. “My mom’s a big gardener. She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?” The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?” That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way. You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,” he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,” you retort - or try to at least. You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with.

“ Nicer , baby.”

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close. He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily. It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening; it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say.

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat.

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong. He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds. He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth. He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.

“Can you do that for me?” He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting. “What?”

“I said—” It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain. He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries. “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion. It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.

“Kook.” You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life. Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.”

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him. Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought. You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—” He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“What do you need? Ask nicely.”

“M-more. I need m-more .” A hiccup. “Please.”

“Like this?” You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat. “Or like this?” The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times. “Maybe like this?”

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.” Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system. He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb. Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him. He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

“Give me another, okay?”

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit. The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers. There’s too much stimulation. You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook. Jungkook .” His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips. He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot. He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving.

“Come on, baby. Let go.” The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut. You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort. “That’s my girl.”

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you. He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest.

“You did so good.”

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.

“I want you.”

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest. “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.

“I know what you meant,” he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately. “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep. Patience is key, remember?”

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there. It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.” It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave. “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly. “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs. He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.” You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more. Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly. The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place. “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes. the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic). this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple. as always, let me know your thoughts. xo

tag list. @letmebeyour-sun @teawithbucky

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thompsborn · 3 years

Note

do you have any spare ironhusbands or sambucky headcanons?

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY

oh my god okay i’ve been so fucking wrapped up in both ironhusbands and sambucky and absolutely nothing else for WEEKS because of tfatws (obviously if you have seen my endless spam of reblogs but can you BLAME ME) and the portal closed has ironhusbands so i’ve been just. oh my god i am happily drowning in this and them and i do not need nor want air. ok.

also these are all hc’s based just in canon not au, and lol warning this got so long help me, though my brain is so scrambled from tfatws finale that all sambucky thoughts are scrambled and jumbled so i wasn't able to coordinate them as well as ironhusbands so the ironhusbands section is definitely longer pfighf i'm so sorry i'm like this

ironhusbands:

when they met at mit tony didnt know shit. like. like nothing. he didnt know a single god damn thing about anything. like he was a genius he could solve any equation given to him and baffled professors when he was handed like two supposedly impossible equations to this fuckin fourteen year old and he just looked at them with like a mcdonalds burger or some shit hanging out of his mouth and just answered them no problem, but he was still such a hopeless idiot, and rhodey, also a genius attending as a sixteen year old, had to teach him the basics of life, like. making toast. tony how do NOT know how to make toast. its TOAST. you put it in the TOASTER. have you NEVER SEEN A—OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU FUCKING CATCH IT ON FIRE—

he does not perfect the clearly impossible task of making toast until he is 17 and rhodey buys him a cake to celebrate the momentous occasion even though tony went though 528 toasters

you are gold by the national parks. thats it. thats all i have to say. listen to the song and look up the lyrics. you’ll get it.

and also paper planes by jon bellion but specifically for after rhodey tells tony he’s gonna join the air force and tony is worried but doesnt know how to show it and they have like a chill night in and all tony can think about is how stupid he is and how he’s such a coward because he cant get himself to tell rhodey that hi!! i love u!! and im scared to lose u and that you’ll get hurt and maybe die or smth!!

when rhodey finds out about how tony was raised (going with mcu, where tony wasnt physically abused but more emotionally neglected and ignored by howard and always talked down to and compared to others and wasnt treated like he was worthy and never was told he was loved and everything like that) he gets PISSED. like he is MONUMENTALLY angry. and it takes YEARS for him to find out about this too. and it actually puts a bit of a strain on their friendship for awhile when they meet too

like rhodey knows about the starks obviously and he assumes tony is going to be this obnoxious arrogant rich boy asshole and is so not looking forward to being roommates but he was raised to have an open mind and give everyone a chance, but tony was raised to be wary of everyone and keep his walls up and his emotions in shackles because whatever he shows can be used against him, so they clash, you know? they dont fight or anything but theres tension bc it isnt right and they dont get each other.

rhodey tries to be nice and tony doesnt understand nice because his only example of nice is jarvis and his mom and even then his mom and jarvis are always off with his dad so he barely sees them so its still rare for him to experience the nice of them so he doesnt know how to be around someone nice all the time, and so he gets defensive and thinks about how howard drilled it into him to be wary and he thinks maybe rhodey isnt ACTUALLY nice but someone PRETENDING to be

and rhodey starts to feel justified in assuming the worst about tony stark because tony is all cold and distant and rude and is about to stop the keeping an open mind thing about a month into their first year but then he comes back to their dorm early from class one day and tony doesnt come in so rhodey is just standing there and watches for a minute as tony sits there staring down at his twenty sixth attempt at a letter he wants to send his mom becauss he knows his mom likes letters even though he could just call but they havent really called him (howards fault but he’s fourteen still and its hard to rationalize that howards busy life and controlling thumb extends past his son) and rhodey is just confused because tony just suddenly sighs and sniffles a bit and murmurs “this is so stupid” and crumbles up the paper and throws it in the garbage and rhodey cant help but peer into it and barely sees the words hey mom scribbled at the top and that. that. hm. okay.

so rhodey keeps trying because he wasnt supposed to see that but he did and now he kind of has a feeling that maybe tony isnt all that cold and distant and rude as he seems, maybe he just doesnt really know how to be any different, so he thinks about all the subtle little ways that his family has shown him they care about him and starts to invite tony to go get food or to study together even though neither of them really need to study or to help each other with assignments or just anything thats mundane enough to not raise suspicion but still starts to open the door and make tony relax around him just that little bit and then before tony realizes it the end of their first year is there and theyre like friends or something and it hits him that he’s gonna miss rhodey.

for the first time ever there’s someone other than his mom and jarvis that he’s actually going to miss.

rhodey grins at him and says that they’ll be roommates again next year because they have to be and that the summer will be over before they know it and the sentiment is nice but tony spends the summer alone wandering around a house too big and empty after being in a dorm that’s small and has a friend.

but rhodey doesn’t know this. like he knows that tony isn’t the kind of guy he originally assumed but he doesn’t know that he’s literally ignored and neglected and like emotionally and sometimes verbally abused so he’s kind of surprised when the next year begins and they DO end up being roommates again (because tony kind of asked his mom, on a rare day when he got to see her and howard wasnt around, to get mit to make sure they could be) and tony just HUGS him like its been years and they’ve known each other forever but he goes with it and hugs him back because maybe tony’s just more affectionate once he gets to know someone and rhodey is okay w that.

they get closer as the years go by and they graduate from mit together and they’re BEST friends and at the end of the year rhodey invites tony to spend new years eve w his family but tony cant bc howard is having some kind of gala starting at 5 because hes weird and dumb and tony hates it and he also isnt given the option of not going even though he doesnt want to but the entire way there howard drills into him about not fucking up and berates him for all the times he has in the past and when they get there tony is already just not feeling it so he’s like nope!! no!! i simply cannot!!

so he goes in and finds an exit thats in the back and he leaves and finds a fucking payphone of all things and he has rhodeys home number memorized for years now and he calls and someone he doesnt knoe answers and theres music in the background and voices and tony’s entire stomach is in his throat and his heart is sunken into his twisted gut because he just wanted one night where maybe he could smile next to his parents and feel like he fit with them but he couldnt have that and he asks to talk to rhodey and then he is and asks if its too late to accept his invite and rhodey is like yeah of course do u need my address bc its still only 5 pm and its a 2 hour drive between south philadelphia and manhattan so he’d make it with plenty of time before it got to midnight so yay

and tony is like. oh. hm. i dont know how to drive actually. that was a thing that no one ever thought to teach me even though i asked about it about ten million times. and rhodey is used to tony not knowing how to do things that most people their age can (see: the toast) and plus its not uncommon for people from new york to not drive anyway so he doesnt think anything of it and instead asks for tony’s address to come pick him up instead and they’d still make it back by like 9-9:30 so that would work too

and thats when tony is like. well.

about that.

he might be calling from a payphone.

on a random street corner.

and its kind of raining. and he’s cold. and he’s a bit dulled out from everything so he doesn’t really think about the fact that admitting this is going to lead to having to explain what happened and also why and that is happens often. but that doesnt matter because he kind of just wants to be with his best friend and not back at that gala with his dad right now.

rhodey is like,,, ok. ok. wheres a coffee shop nearby u can wait in. and tony thankfully is by a 24 hour one and tells him the name and the street corner its closest to and rhodey is like i’ll be there asap and tony goes and he waits.

a two hour drive turns into an hour and a half because rhodey is Worried™

but when he walks in tony goes from being all dulled out to being all HOLY SHIT because rhodey has a SPLIT LIP and he’s like WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WHAT THE FUCK WHAT

and rhodey’s like no no its good my uncle was having fun and trying to wrestle with me and he accidentally elbowed me its all good man dont worry about it

tony isnt used to accidentally being hurt tho so he’s still like hmmm but he takes rhodeys word on it and they head out and tony wont say what happened or why he was calling from a payphone ?? which btw tony literally only was able to do bc there happened to be dropped change on the ground because boy would not have change on him ok, but rhodeys like alright lets go with this for now

so they gets to the rhodes house and it is in full swing with family and extended family and adopted family bc they are 100% the family that just adopts the neighborhood kids and the people who have no one else and like ex boyfriends and ex girlfriends even after the relationship ends bc they still are family despite not dating whoever it was they had been dating in order to be introduced to them so its a LOT of people and tony is like. this is semi familiar in terms a lot of people but this is NOTHING like what he has ever seen before holy fucking SHIT

rhodey is just like oh u have a small family then? so ur used to smaller gatherings?

and tonys like wtf are gatherings

and rhodey is starting to get a feel for what might be wrong but just takes tony inside to get him changed because he’s not spending new years eve at the rhodes house in a fucking expensive suit ok

tony is completely out of his element and like he’s not the only white guy there bc again the rhodes adopt people and those people are of every race and nationally you can imagine but he just isnt used to the vibe there are people laughing and sitting close together and playing games and theres music playing but not like classy music its music people can dance to and are dancing to and the food isnt the food he’s used to at galas and shit and nothing is what he’s used to and he just sticks to rhodey’s side like a fucking lost puppy and tries his best not to look like an idiot when rhodey introduces him to people and a lot of them know who he is but dont judge him or assume shit about him bc obviously if he’s friends w rhodey then he’s a good guy and they want to know him and thats enough

but tony is v overwhelmed bc what the FUCK IS HAPPENING this is nothing like anything he has ever experienced EVER

so eventually rhodey can tell he’s getting overwhelmed and takes him inside and lets him have a breather and then asks him about whats going in and thats when rhodey learns about what tonys life at home is really like and. anger.

SO MUCH anger

because not only has every single assumption he has ever made about tony been proven wrong, but now he knows that the best person he knows has never been treated the way he deserves and has never known a true home and comfort and love and safety and

and he’s gonna fix it

and this is the first step

so he takes tony back out and they’re still just friends but this is the day they both quietly realize they might kind of definitely like each other as more because tony is still so confused by the fact that what he knows isnt the normal and overwhelmed by how much there is and how different it is but rhodey holds his hand as a grounding point and whenever it might be too much they move off to the side where they arent completely gone but its less hectic and a bit more quiet and its just nice

tony goes to rhodeys house for every holiday despite whatever howard says

rhodey decks howard the only time they ever meet before tonys parents die and he has the most shit eating grin on his face afterwards that tony cant help but lose his shit laughing his ass off

anyway i didnt mean to ramble for so long about that specific idea so i’ll end the ironhusbands ramble with this one last thought, which is as follows:

rhodey gets hurt in the air force at some point, and it isnt that bad tbh but he does have to go the hospital and shit and gets stitches or whatever idk i dont know what specifically happens i just think it’d be just bad enough that it takes him a few weeks to be able to go back to work but he’s not like OH GOD HURT yk?

but like stated above tony was scared and worried when rhodey told him he was gonna go into the air force so he hears about this and they’re probably like almost 30 at this point because they’re dumb and it takes them forever to get their heads out of their asses (i say this even though in the portal closed it takes them even longer but i digress) rhodey has like his mon his sister his niece visiting him and they were worried but they know hes fine so theyre just talking and in a good mood and then—

door slams open. tony stark enter stage left. disheveled suit, fresh from a meeting he definitely was not supposed to leave, having flown in from maibu the second he heard and then had happy drive him and then got impatient because of traffic and ended up sprinting like ten blocks while happy was like what the FUCK

of course rhodeys family are well aware that these idiots are desperately in love with each other so they’re just like lol ok and just leave the room while tony starts fretting over him like he’s about to die himself if he doesnt know if rhodey is okay and rhodey is like tony tony dude tones stop tony im okay tony stop it

until finally tony just fucking breaks down like full on tears in his eyes voice cracking hands clasped as he leans against rhodeys bed and tells him that he was so scared and he is so scared all the time whenever rhodey is out there because all he can think about is losing him and him getting hurt or dying and it’s maddening and this is when they get their heads out of their asses and kiss for the first time

(irony at its finest bc later when they are married and tony becomes iron man rhodey refuses to not have a suit of his own because if tony is going out there in a metal flying tin can then he isn’t going alone and wow what a power couple)

sambucky:

firstly i’m going to go post tfatws, but i’ll make a bullet point before going into it so if you wanna read up until that point you can but most of this will be random little headcanons based post tfatws

also it isnt like a whole plotline thing like the ironhusbands ones ended up being these ones are more random and kinda all over the place but loosely connected

update from after writing this: i lied

let me start by saying my interpretation of why they are the way they are in civil war is because of steve

thats not saying steve is the bad guy i mean to say that they’re jealous of each other because they thought that THEY were steve’s best friend who the fuck is THIS guy i dont want him here go away

children. they are children.

which i find very funny to imagine from sams pov because he literally is a licensed therapist and would 100% recognize why he’s acting how he is but he’s petty enough to do it anyway

and also he literally was helping steve track bucky down but i like to imagine that sam didnt think they’d ever really find him again and it’d just make him and steve like super mega best friends or something because hes a CHILD

and then from bucky’s pov steve goes through all this trouble to find him and protect him and then this random guy is acting like steve’s best friend and gets to sit in the front seat ??? bullshit. absolutely bullshit. worst thing ever. so stupid.

its so funny to me okay its SO funny

its like that schoolyard thing where your friend makes another friend and you hate it so much that you do something stupid like color on their drawing or put gum in their hair or whatever but they’re adults with 1. super soldier serum or 2. a superhero reputation/avengers status and suit with wings. so thats a thing.

post civil war i dont think they get much yk. because bucky is out in cryo and team cap is on the run and i doubt theyre able to return to wakanda much, if at all, and then it’s infinity war and then it’s endgame and after endgame there’s the aftermath and the aftermath is a mess

i like to think they have some moments before tfatws though. not many but enough for that slight foundation thats we can kind of see in episode 2 yk.

okay NOW it gets into post tfatws so!!

SO post tfatws everything is different because now they not only have spent all this time together, but they understand each other in a way that they didn’t before. in a way no one ever has. not even steve, who may have known them before, but he isn’t here anymore and he wouldn’t understand who they are now vs who they were before and it’s different.

bucky finds comfort in sam’s home town. sam finds comfort in watching bucky find a home there and he doesnt know why.

also sam treats redwing like a puppy and lets him fly around on his own and gets pet and stuff and bucky acts annoyed but the longer it happens you can tell he’s like “oh my god why is this thing endearing”

bucky has nightmares and sam knows this but bucky doesnt know that sam also has nightmares until one night when they’re still in sams home town and they’re staying on the boat because sams nephews are having a sleepover with some friends and they didnt want to get in the way or smth idk i just want an excuse for them to be on the boat and somewhat secluded from people but bucky already woke up from his nightmare and is out on the deck to get some fresh out and then oop

sam havin a nightmare too

because fucking of COURSE sam has nightmares he has been through some shit too!! not being able to catch riley and everything that happened since meeting steve and thanos and he turned to dust alone in the bushes ok like yes everyone that died were traumatized undoubtedly (peter my baby boy baby im so sorry that you got the worst of it) but bucky was around people but sam was laying on the ground and probably just watched his hands as he disappeared and he was alone and like. jesus christ ok.

and then steve trusted him with every weight and everything that comes with the shield not knowing how much more the shield has when he gave it to a black man and just like he has nightmares everyone in marvel does its a fact

but bucky finds out like this and he is shocked even though he realizes he probably should have been able to guess that this is a thing and he knows so much more about sam now than he ever did but this is how he learns more. he learns about riley. he learns so much.

sometimes bucky has those like “oh shit” moments where he’s like “maybe i was kind of a dick to someone who didnt deserve it” and he already had one of those with sam about the shield but he has another one because he assumed shit about sam when they were being all childish and jealous about someone else being friends with steve but like fuck

steve and sam probably got it

the not catching someone. the way it felt to try and to reach out and to miss and to have to choice but to watch as they fell.

what’s different is that steve got bucky back. he got to have that relief, eventually, even if there was the pain of knowing bucky had been taken by hydra, but at least he knew bucky had made it.

sam didn’t have that. riley didnt make it.

therefore, bucky has his “oh shit”

and bucky was already going soft around the edges with sam (as clearly seen in the last two episodes of tfatws, ESPECIALLY the finale because like did tou SEEZ ALL THE HEART EYES oh my GOD) but it’s this that really makes something in him melt and he just. he loses the last remnants of whatever tension or resentment or whatever negative feeling he may have been clutching onto.

there wasnt much left. but now theres none. now its all washed away.

its gone, and he gets it.

sam is a licensed therapist and he knew the reason he was being all dumb and childish and jealous with bucky was because steve had another best friend but also because steve’s other best friend was the guy that had been a big factor in how him and steve understood each other and how they bonded and it

it had kind of felt like they lost part of that when they found bucky again in civil war and he kind of wanted to blame bucky for it even though he didnt actually blame him at all so all it translated to was that dumb kind of jealous thing instead

but now it’s just them. its sam and bucky and it isnt steve and it isnt about steve and it shouldnt be because its about them. its about the boat and the water and the way they sit and watch the waves while the silence settles over them and the way that bucky says, “im sorry.”

its the way sam says, “me too.”

and bucky says, “you dont have to be.”

its the way they stay there until sarah comes to get them for breakfast and sams nephews convince them to play with them and their friends and the world is still shit and there is so much to do but

but its this and its them and that can wait

it can wait

they can take their time if they want to

maybe they’ve earned that much, at least

(it isn't a fast development because they're a complicated pair and there's so much to the two of them that need to figured out individually before they can even realize how well they work together, but the steps are so much easier knowing that they have the other in their corner and bucky knows that sam's home town is a place he's welcome to go and sam helps him make his own dreary little apartment into something that feels real and tangible with a bed and a couch and when they've become something that resembles stable and they've found a balance and they're okay, that's when they realize that maybe they can try for the more that sometimes bubbles under their skin and that they started to think about the more they spend time together. the warmth that sam feels every time he sees bucky playing games with his nephew and the smile that bucky has to fight to hide and still can't fully suppress when sam stands tall and proud with the shield in its rightful place, and it takes time, it takes work, it takes carefully placed bricks to build the foundation they need, but they get there, and when they do...

when they do, they're already happy, and it just makes them happier, and that's what makes it so much better.

that's what makes it worth the wait.)

#ironhusbands #sambucky #headcanons #asks

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volfoss · 3 years

Note

ships to rate: bruabba and gyjo? maybe even yasugap if you're up for it

ok ur about to see such a long post its nto even gonna be funny, tldr i love them all

also gonna put a fic i really like for them if ive read one/ a fic idea i wanna write plus maybe ranting, this is not coherent but my spelling isnt too bad

post under cut bc its very long

Bruabba:

my loves my lifes

they r so soft for each other

the fucking rain scene when bruno extends his umbrella

and how bruno is like trying to hold back his emotions post abba dying

in case its not super obvious by the sheer volume of bruabba content i reblog this is one of my otps

ALSO the fucking boat scene where abba pretty much is like yeah ur home bruno

ajdskjghdsgjk

hc that they r meeting up in the afterlife w nara and having a good time (also read a phenomenal fic about it that ill link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33118039 it is emotionally fucking me up days later <3)

dads dads dads but bruno is the caring dad that just gets you and takes care of you in the most gentle way and will sacrifice himself over and over again to see u happy and abba is the sitting in the armchair and u sneak in like 2 minutes past ur curfew ur busted but i was also worried about you

these two men own my whole heart (also my ao3 history i exclusively am reading bruabba and dadbacchio)

i have so so many thoughts toward them like yeah i just love them so much

i will never ever not write them as in love

t4t and bi4bi

every single canon thing about them makes me so soft but i think what makes me softest is just how its so clear that they rely on each other in situations

fanon interpretation rant rq:

but how some ppl really interpret them so ooc that its just like bruno mommy and abba cares about literally none of their kids (explanation on the mommy thing is bc most of things that do that are weird bc they really r treating bruno like a single parent who is raising the gang on his own and thats all when abba is literally there and caring about ppl (ie the purple haze incident w giorno, like he wasnt the most nice in his wording but why else would he be like hi move away from the danger if he didnt care??)

ppl also just tend to not really do the separation between how abba acts around others and how he acts towards bruno and has him being kinda aggressive towards him for literally no reason when they r literally so soft w each other

and also they r both so fucking pretty and i am in love with them both

if i think about them too long i will combust and i am blaming u solely for that one

ship dynamic of savior x savior bc they both really did save each other and i love them sm

fic ideas for them r they both live and leave passione and take their kids w them <3 (gang would crumble but thats not my problem)

ok also another hc that i have for them is that bruno will buy larger sweaters and wear them and give them to abba if hes having a rough time, they have a shared closet imo

10/10 ship

Gyjo:

OK OK OK

FEELINGS ON MAX

these guys r also my beloved but in a depressed x very happy but hiding depression way

the the fuckingn way that gyro ltierally risks everything in the ringo roadagain fight to save jognny

and the way that johnny is literally fucking broken post gyro persiheing and adopts his speech pattern a bit and ugh

I am obsessed w gyjo but i think the funniest crack ship is poly but w diego and they all fucking suffer (fic that sold me on that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887796/chapters/54705517)

i cannot find the one fic that i really loved for them but needless to say i am soft w them living and just being together

update i found it: its a modern au and really really sweet! https://archiveofourown.org/works/31821940/chapters/78780595

one day ill actually write the fic idea i had for them which was basically they live and they dont sell the land they got from the sugar mountain arc and johnny wanted to start somewhere fresh anyways and gyro adopts marco and they make a lil log cabin and have a nice rest of their lives

i am a massive sucker for their ship

ALSO how johnny is always laughing at gyros jokes

smth i wish we got more of in canon were those moments where they just chilled and talked and had those kinda interactions

fandom complaining time!! the fucking way that some ppl just really take the gyro funny and johnny submissive trope is like my biggest pet peeve. did they not read sbr?? did they not see the multiple times that johnny has murdery eyes? i think personally its ppl infantilizing him a lot and it makes me really frustrated

ok also a fic that really really fills me desire for a they all live and everyone is happy is this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812394

i love them sm but unfortunately cannot have coherent thoughts about them :(

10/10 ship

Yasugap:

gonna start this out w saying i did mildly speedread through jojolion so i dont have as many big screamy thoughts

BUT!!! them!!!!!

their canon interactions r the cutest thing and even if they werent, id ship it solely to spite joshu

josuke is a million trillion times better for yasuho (not just bc of how joshu is a fucking freak and is absolutely the worst i would run him over with a dump truck)

i really like how they both r so happy around each other but i think my favorite scene w them is when yasuho has to explain to josuke that hes crying and hes just like :') yeah

but they have so so many cute moments and the ending makes them the only couple to make it out of this list

i love how yasuho is just like willing to drop anything to help him and how they help each other out a lot during the whole time (if im remembering right?)

their dynamic is just 2 sweethearts

also love the moment that hes like look away yasuho :) then proceeds to beat a man up

they r canon (as is everyone else sorry <3)

i dont read a lot of part 8 fic since i need to reread it to properly understand the plot post like chapter 65? so i dont have any recs or complaints

BUT i do have a few hcs!!

i think yasuho would get josuke matching phone straps or phone cases

and when they move in together, i think they would raise sugar gliders (or potentially kidnap squirrels from the local park)

i love all of yasuho and josukes interactions but oh man every time that josukes past gets brought up i do start bawling

they both mean the world to me and how their romance is just built on such a clear foundation of trust and care it makes me so soft

they both give off such dog ppl energy tho and i love that for them

ALSO ok the way that yasuho helps josuke w his memory and is always there for him

i will never ever ever get over them

but i think one of my favorite scenes is the one right at the beginning where she gives josuke his name and how that plays into the rest of the story with him discovering his identity but still clinging to the one that she gave him since it was him, he wasnt just kira or josefumi he was josuke

10/10

if i think about them anymore i will start sobbing, the last chapter wrapped every last thing up so well and im so so glad that it did

#vento aureo spoilers #sbr spoilers #jjl spoilers #asks #wholesome mutuals

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amarimaryllis · 3 years

Text

I Liked You So Much, We Lost It (Iwaizumi x Reader)

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Reader

Prompt/Summary: You and Iwaizumi are so in love with each other that the only way the universe can separate you both is to put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you (spoiler: the universe actually does put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you).

Tags: Fluff, Angst

Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Lots of timeskips, Inspired by Ysabelle’s “I Liked You So Much, We Lost It”, Sequel to “I Like You So Much, You’ll Know It” but can be read as a standalone fic

Warnings: Angst, Very Slight Manga Spoilers, Slight Canon Divergence (you won’t even notice it if you don’t read into it so let’s shhhh, I mean this entire fanfic is a canon divergence but let’s not 😌)

Almost everyone in Aoba Johsai knew that you and Iwaizumi were together. So many people had invested themselves in the friends to lovers situation that you guys had that it was impossible for them to not find out that you guys were finally together. Nearly three years of you guys just tip-toeing around each other and it finally paid off.

You guys were practically inseparable since the day that Iwaizumi brought you to the convenience store to shelter yourselves from the rain. If one was to see either of you, it was sure that the other would come around eventually. You guys were so deeply in love with each other that nothing could separate you. However, months had passed, and in a few weeks, it would be time for you all to graduate. You never really knew what Iwaizumi’s plans were after Seijoh. You just trusted that everything would fall into place as it always did.

“Hajime, why are you avoiding my gaze?” You pout from the floor of his bedroom, sitting with your legs crossed as you basked in the warmth that his hoodie brought.

Iwaizumi looks up from his work to give you a small smile. “You look too cute in my jacket.”

“And?” You blush slightly, but you don’t let him fully change the topic.

“It’s distracting, and I have this final project to finish.” Iwaizumi turns to look back at the paper.

“Project? Didn’t we finish them all last week?” You raise a brow, trying to take a look at the paper before Iwaizumi hastily pulls it away from your view. “Hey, Hajime… What is that?”

“It’s nothing.” Iwaizumi’s body is tense, avoiding your gaze as he fiddles with the pen.

“Okay.” You can feel your heart beating quicker. Worry filled your veins, but you try to tell yourself that you’re probably just overreacting. “I trust you.”

Iwaizumi sighs before he stands up and goes to your side. He plops behind you, pulling you in between his legs before he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’m gonna miss this.”

You smile at his touch, closing your eyes to bask in the warmth that he emits before his words sink. “You’re talking as if I’m gonna be leaving.”

You giggle lightly before you turn around and wrap your arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pressing your forehead onto his. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

Iwaizumi looks conflicted as he stares into your eyes, his grip on your waist getting tighter with each passing second. You can see his eyes swirl with a million different things, and it scares you. What was it that had him acting like this?

“Hajime—“

Iwaizumi cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s desperate. The way his lips move against yours, searching for something, longing for something. His lips were soft against yours, but the emotions you could feel swirling inside him made his movements hasty and thoughtless. It was like he was trying to forget something, erasing whatever it was that ate him up on the inside as he deepened the kiss.

He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe before he’s hoisting you up and dropping you on his bed, hovering on top of you as he gazes into your eyes.

His eyes were teary, and this prompts you to speak. “Hajime what’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi drops to your side on the bed before he pulls you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” The serious tone laced in Iwaizumi’s words makes your heart beat quicker, the fear of something—you didn’t know what exactly made you feel afraid at that moment—settling itself deep into your chest. “Hajime, what’s going on?”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me.” Iwaizumi whispers, his arms wrapping tighter around you as if he was afraid that you were going to disappear. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab Iwaizumi’s cheeks with your hand before you press a quick peck on his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on. You seem so stressed lately, and it’s kind of making me worried.”

“I’m…” Iwaizumi’s voice is strained as if the words stuck in his throat were laced with thorns that wound him as he struggles to let it out. “I’m gonna study Sports Sciences.”

You giggle lightly. “Why are you worried? You’re gonna do great—“

“In California.” Iwaizumi whispers, but you hear it nonetheless.

It doesn’t sink in. You don’t want it to. As the anchors of that statement plunge deeper into the ocean of your system, the currents that try to keep you alive raise themselves to fight against the weight of the anchors. It’s futile, the waves of emotions, thoughts rage until they’re slowly drowning you in the uncertainty of your future. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Iwaizumi sits up, which in turn makes you sit up as well. “No. I’m just… I don’t want to lose you just because I’m leaving.”

“Then why are you so stressed?” You could feel your eyes well up with relief, but no matter how much you look on the bright side, there’s still that gnawing feeling in your stomach. “You’re not losing me unless you break up with me, idiot.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” Iwaizumi pouts lightly at you, making you laugh at the way he looked. He smiles, his heart swelling as he sees you laugh. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I’m gonna be all the way in California. The timezones won’t match. I’ll be busy on some days. I won’t be here to hug you or kiss you. Which is pretty damn unfortunate cause I really like kissing you—“

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi stops when he hears you call his name while grabbing his cheeks.

“Yes, love?” Iwaizumi responds immediately. It was as if months of being with you had trained him to do so when you called out his full name.

“I love you, and kilometers of land and sea isn’t gonna change that.” You smile before pressing a kiss on his lips. “Stop worrying.”

“Do that again.” Iwaizumi says as he eyes your lips.

“Do what?” You decide to tease him, acting as if you didn’t know that he wanted another kiss.

“Y/N.” He groans as he glares at you playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“But I don’t.” You have a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Fine, be like that.” Iwaizumi huffs before he pulls you for another kiss.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

That was 10 months ago. Iwaizumi left in July, making it a total of six months that you haven’t seen him in person. The first month went off without a hitch. Video chats every day, messages shared regardless of the other’s time zone, and other methods of communication were used just so you guys felt like you were still there with each other in person. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that well.

If you were to describe what happened, you would say that you could compare it to a candle. It burns brightly at first before it slowly melts the way and the candle comes crashing down, snuffing out its flame with its own wax. Each month that passed was a step closer to the end that you both desperately tried to ignore.

You laid in your bed, snuggled into your blankets as you tried to seek warmth. The jacket that Iwaizumi gave you that you wore provided no warmth. It may have eased the cold that the rain brought, but it did nothing to ease the winter that stormed within your chest. Despite the bitter cold, you held on. After all, every winter has to end, right?

You frowned as you looked at one of the pictures that Iwaizumi was tagged in. A blonde girl with her arm around his shoulder, and Iwaizumi with a bright smile. The kind of smile he used to wear in pictures with you.

You could feel anger in your veins, jealousy mingling with it as it brought your blood to a light simmer. You were being unreasonable, you knew that, but six months without Iwaizumi was getting to you, and seeing some other girl doing what you desperately wanted to, but not being able to, made an envious feeling grow in your chest. It didn’t help that she wore the jacket you knew all too well: A jacket you gave Iwaizumi before he left for California. Your eyes teared up at the fact.

You shut your phone and your eyes, ready to turn in for the night before the familiar ringtone fills your ears. You wait. You don’t answer immediately. You let the phone ring a bit more. Your irrational side coming out to play as you hoped that maybe Iwaizumi would feel just as cold as you if you answered him later than you usually did.

You pick up.

“Good morning, love.” Iwaizumi’s face pops up on your skin, a bright smile on his face as the beginnings of the morning sun kiss his skin. The background was moving, and the camera was unstable, which meant that Iwaizumi was probably walking to his class somewhere, “I’m sorry for calling at this time. It’s probably late there but I missed— Wait, are you okay? You look like you just cried.”

You saw that Iwaizumi had stopped walking, the background behind him as stagnant as the words stuck in your throat.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Iwaizumi furrows his brows. “Talk to me.”

You begin to speak. “I don’t think—“

The lightning strikes outside, and a bright flash fills your room. You laughed bitterly in your head, perhaps it was a warning from the universe.

You change your approach. “In the hundred different futures you imagined… In the Dateko game…”

You struggle to find your words.

Iwaizumi smiles, but it looks quite forced to you. “The hundred different futures I imagined with you when you cheered for me in the Dateko game?”

“Yeah.” You almost feel guilty as you finalize the words you’re about to say in your head.

“What about those?” Iwaizumi asks, ever the patient and understanding boyfriend he was, but you could see it. The glint in his eyes that he had whenever he wanted to finish something. The look he had in his eyes whenever he just wanted to get things over with like they were some sort of… Inconvenience.

“Did you...” You shift in your bed, second-guessing your words as you sit up and fiddle with the hem of Iwaizumi’s jacket. “Was there a future that went like this?”

“Like this?” Iwaizumi looks confused. “Where I call you in the middle of a street? Not really? That’s too specific, honestly.” He chuckles and your heart sinks.

“No, not that.” You say solemnly. “A future where we don’t work.”

“What?” Iwaizumi looks stunned, and for a second, your heart races at the sight of him looking as he did before… Before he went to California. “What do you mean? Y/N?”

“I just—“

“HAJIME!” You could hear a woman’s voice on the other side. Years of learning English made sure that you understood what she said without a problem “Ready to go?”

Iwaizumi looks away from you as he turns to the source, a smile painting his face. “Of course, just give me a second.”

Your heart sinks in realization.

That’s how he smiled at you in the past.

“I’m gonna go.” You choke out as tears flow down your cheeks. “Have a good day, Iwaizumi-san.”

You shut the phone.

You cry. You didn’t need to hear it fall from Iwaizumi’s lips. You didn’t need to have it confirmed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew that he had feelings for that girl, whoever the hell she was. You knew that he probably only kept you because he didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you anymore. He probably did, it’s just that he found someone who was… There. Someone who wasn’t in a different place. Someone he could hug anytime he wanted to. It’s unfortunate that it wasn’t you, but maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

So you let go, and it was timely. What started underneath the rain, ended under it. The warmth of the first confession was washed away by the droplets, leaving nothing but the cold to soak deep into your system as you sobbed into your bed, hastily pulling the jacket off of your frame.

You make sure that Iwaizumi never gets to contact you. You had left him a message: a cruel “I’m breaking up with you, I’m sorry,” and nothing more. Maybe that would hurt him enough to make him feel less guilty about making moves on the other girl. You knew it was stupid to just leave him like that, but you just wanted it to stop. You hated the feeling of uncertainty. You hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. If you had to hurt yourself in the process of finding your peace of mind, then so be it.

Years pass and you’ve graduated. You’ve moved on. It wasn’t an easy process, but you pulled through. There were moments you just so wanted to desperately call Iwaizumi and crawl back into his arms, apologizing and all, but you stop yourself each time. You cut off all contact with him, you weren’t going to waste that. However, you knew that no matter how moved on you are, some part of you will always love him… And that’s okay. You’re okay. That’s the only thing that mattered.

Currently, you were in a convenience store, grabbing a quick snack before you went to the stadium to watch the volleyball match with Oikawa, who arrived from Argentina a few days back and wanted to meet up. The setter was probably looking for milkbread in one of the aisles, so you took your sweet time in picking a drink and snack because the setter would probably be shocked by the new variety of milkbread choices that popped up while he was still in Argentina.

Your phone buzzes.

Flatass: I’m at the table near the back, slowpoke. Get your ass here.

You roll your eyes with a grin before you text back.

You: You’re just jealous I have more ass than you.

You don’t get a reply. You shrug and pay for your items before you walk to the back of the store to eat with Oikawa.

“Oikawa—“ You stop at the sight.

Instead of Oikawa on the chair, it was Iwaizumi, still as handsome as he was years ago.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi smiles. “Do you mind if I watch with you guys? Oikawa had an extra ticket and who was I to decline—“

“I don’t mind.” You smile, nothing but happiness filling your chest as you reunite with an old friend.

A/N: I like to pretend that this part of the storyline doesn’t exist 💖. Also, this was written before Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer was a thing so please excuse the ending.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #genre.angstfluff #cont.spoilers #tw angst

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rens-room · 3 years

Text

just some d gray man thoughts:

not me restarting a long show with a million things on my watch list...

I forgot how cute allen is.

and how much his red arm disturbs me (I have mild sensory issues).

actually a lot of things in this show trigger my sensory issues but its Fine we are gonna ignore it.

I also forgot how unbalanced allen’s innocence activated arm design was before crown clown.

I just wanna know who would actually trust the millennium earl, who looks at that man and says ah yes I trust you to bring back my dead loved one no strings attached.

allen: I’ll never break my arm again me: we heard that lie before

whenever I see lenalee i have to remember she is not in fact, hatsune miku.

I got so used to lenalee with shorter hair. the chin/shoulder length was really cute.

road gives me toga vibes, or rather I guess toga gives me road vibes because I think dgm is older than bnha.

miranda is always a mood.

dgm gets points for having an interesting healer. as in the healer’s power is to reverse time. it’s less cliche and darker because it’s not a magical cure-all, actions still have consequences.

the following is said with love: kanda literally has no brain cells.

the black order science division? do you mean lenalee’s fanclub!

this show is so dark compared to other long running/popular shonen of the time and I think it’s fun.

fuck funimation for only having the first half of the original available for free. like I’m rewatching so i remember everything so hallow hurts me even more! so why! do you only have half of it!

(second half)

tyki was set up as such a terrifying antagonist and its amazing.

did we ever find out who/what the heart is? I’m not caught up on the manga but would love an update (spoil away).

gotta love shonen- when the backstory starts, you start grieving because you know the character is about to die.

I love kanda so much. not a single braincell in that man but at least he’s pretty.

the fallen exorcist arc catches me by surprise every time. I really like that the show explores the dark side of innocence and the order.

I made it to the opening that starts with crown clown- you don’t understand how ready i am to see it activated again! I think it’s my favorite innocence design.

having said that, lavi has the coolest power in general. maybe second to tyki’s ability to phase through anything.

I feel bad for krory fans, he does not get a lot of screen time. same for miranda.

if allen is “loved by god” as komui put it, I don’t want to be loved by god lol.

I like the asian branch more than the european branch sorry.

bak chang reminds me of kunikida from bungoi stray dogs.

innocence HATSUDO!

torn between not liking lenalee for being so emotional (emotional people/characters just aren't my thing) and remembering she is the only one who emotes/grieves like a normal human being.

allen walker, opacity set to 62%

bitch if you're transparent, you don’t go towards the giant scary disintegration demon.

haha kanda wasn't in allen’s important people visuals.

who thought naming allen’s upgraded innocence crown clown was a good idea? I can’t say it without messing up the pronunciation or order at least twice.

everything hype happens in the second half which is behind funimations paywall which is BULLSHIT!

is the asian branch having everything retractable/hide-able a result of the second exorcists going berserk and destroying everything?

is the reason the asian branch has no active exorcists because of the failed second exorcist project lol?

jasdero and devit are two halves of a whole idiot. and I love that for them.

how much of lavi’s “fun and frivolous” is in his battle strategy? what if he’s really strong but doesn't fight seriously to maintain his personality?

why is there so much foreshadowing?? I already have so many questions from my first watch through, I dont want more!

after reading so many evil bookman fanfics I like him less in canon. the bookman clan and rules seem really harsh.

lavi: I fucked up. I have feelings now. friendship is illegal and all i want is to protect my friends.

lavi stop having emotions, remember friendship is illegal!

not kanda showing up in edo like a total badass and turning the tide of the battle singlehandedly.

skin’s sparkly gold form reminds me of a beetle. I don’t like beetles.

actually, he looks more like golden scissors with the loopy things on his back.

who hasn't had a fun one on one battle with tyki and traded verbal blows?

DGM: has character named Cross. has another character who’s power involves a giant cross. doesn’t make them the same character.

cross is such a whore. and no that is not a compliment.

the noah’s ark arc is supposed to be three hours...it’s a solid 18 episodes, which is waaaayyy longer than three hours.

why would you give kanda the key?? he’s the one with the least braincells!!

kanda: I’m gonna take on a Noah all by myself because I have no sense of self preservation and secretly do care about you guys.

the kanda vs skinn bolic fight was destined to happen because one of them loves sweets and another hates them (also both of them have a tendency to not wear shirts under their jackets and are idiots!).

why is tyki so sexy?? like why??

happy rainbow murder room!!

the noah’s ark arc is the best animated arc of the original anime.

is lavi a natural redhead? imagine if he changed his hair color with his names lol.

LEnaLEE LEE count the “le”s lol.

own your vampire aesthetic krory! you got this!

I forgot dgm used The Power of Friendship, but somehow it’s less annoying in this show than other shonen.

blood based/blood related powers are so freaking cool!

at first I thought it was weird allen acted as the leader, but then I remembered kanda doesn’t do people, lavi is only in the black order on a technicality, krory is new, miranda has Anxiety™, and lenalee probably doesn’t go on as many missions/does more work at the black order headquarters than in the field.

if you think about it, bookman kinda set lavi up to get fucked by his emotions. having a friendly personality means he has to take on the role of ‘person who cheers other people up’ and ‘person that reassures that everything is going to be ok’. kinda hard to do that and remain objective/emotionally distanced at the same time.

not me completely forgetting about lavi vs road and lavi’s backstory. just let my son be happy please.

did road know about allen and that’s why she liked him or does she just like him in general.

chaozii you absolute FUCKING IDIOT stop being a moron.

and on this episode of noah’s gone wild, we have tyki but with spiky tentacles!

how did I forget how much I loved this show?? it’s so good.

not to my future self- skip the first part entirely, just watch the second half and hallow.

allen focus! save friends now, identity crisis later!

I love how the arc entrances are numbered, I think it’s a cute detail.

don’t you love how allen finds a home for the first time, and then is basically forced to leave it.

tiedol is a great dad. kanda accept his love.

Lvellie is the biggest bitch in this show. I swear I hate him more than the noah.

get you a man like Link who introduced himself with pie.

the first level four is so disturbing and creepy.

komui looked better with the long ponytail.

(hmu if you like dgm pls I need friends)

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bao3bei4 · 3 years

Text

i have basically covered the material in this post several times on my twitter. but this is, in my opinion, the only s*xy t*mes with w*ngxian take you need.

(cw transphobia, transphobic slurs, antiblack racism, mentions of csa and bestiality in fiction)

edit 6/10/21: hi! i’m realizing people are still reading this! this was written in response to aja romano’s vox article on the fic that was published in late february of this year. i had been frustrated with how their article seemed to miss the point in many ways, because they never talked about the substance of the fic. which, i mean, fair. i wouldn’t want to read a 1million word fic either.

but i already had, so i thought i’d write about some things that i believed needed to be part of the conversation. namely, that its author wasn’t a harmless troll, but a person i genuinely disliked who i believed should be deplatformed.

i think virtual1979 is a bad person.

i think a lot of people mainly know about sexy times the phenomenon more than they do sexy times the fic itself. i have the dubious honor of being one of the few people who has actually read large portions of the million word fic, and that’s why i wanted to write this meanspirited hit piece.

the fic is down right now and the author’s notes and comments have both been deleted, which is why i cannot provide screenshots. however, these are all quotes i have saved from when the fic was online, and i’m happy to talk with anyone if you feel any of these quotes are mischaracterizations of the fic.

i also want to be clear this is not a “callout post” and i’m not trying to “cancel” them or whatever. i am just explaining why i don’t like them, why i don’t feel bad they’re being harassed, and why i do not find them sympathetic at all, and perhaps why you should also adopt these stances.

let’s start with transphobia.

sexy times with wangxian is transphobic. this much is apparent from the tags. virtual1979 tagged the following: F*tanari, d*ckgirl, Sh*male. they use this language in the chapters that include a character with both a vagina and a penis.

they refer to this character (wei wuxian) with the pronouns “he-she.” the following excerpt is a fair representation of how this wei wuxian is referred to in the chapters where wei wuxian has a vagina and a penis.

[Lan Zhan] would never be turned on by a female, and he would actually be turned off by a drag queen - but this… this Wei Ying, it’s Wei Ying, and he-she looks [...]

i know these words are common in porn categories, but they are also slurs. virtual1979 also uses hermaphrodite to refer to this set of anatomy, which is not strictly a slur, but definitely a stigmatizing choice of language.

they have repeatedly made clear they are not open to criticism. they have also since removed the comment section. making an intersex character for the express purpose of using transmisogynistic language towards them in your million word porn fic isn’t annoying the way their tags are, it’s actively fucked up.

fanfiction has a transphobia problem, and if we’re talking about sexy times with wangxian in any capacity, we must be clear: sexy times with wangxian is part of that problem too.

secondly, virtual1979 is also complicit in ao3’s racism problem.

i think the way they write about chinese characters and settings is annoying and racist, but they are a malaysian chinese person, so i do have some sympathy for them. i am committed to having some patience for people who are annoying if they themselves are working through the prejudice they have faced.

they’ve commented as much:

Not gonna lie, this fic has been a steep learning curve for me despite my roots being Chinese as well, but I have absolutely zero knowledge in some of these aspects!

and i’m happy on some level they can get in touch with their roots. who among us has not been cringe and diaspora. any criticisms i have of their portrayal of chinese people will stay private and be made to other people of color.

i’m going to be clear here i don’t think the actual comment they made makes them super evil or anything. but this essay IS clearly in response to That Article, which did mention racism in fandom. so.

i think we have all seen the infamous karen comment they made, in which they compared people who criticized their tagging with “Karens,” equating antiblack state violence to... mean comments on ao3? and “SJWs,” which, eye roll. no ageism but you’re 41 why the hell are you complaining about sjws

anyway. i am deeply frustrated by the co-option of the word karen. a stand-in for a particular type of racist violence white women specifically can and do inflict has become fused with that reddit-type mommy issue “can i speak to the manager” internecine white resentment.

so their trivialization of antiblack racism is another reason i don’t like them. again i KNOW it’s petty to point this out here, but this to me shows that virtual is afflicted with the same kind of fandom brainrot that aja is, where everything comes back to that same sort of self-centered bullshit.

sorry for that jab. julian told me that aja thought that cql was about callout culture and all i could think was “wow! just like virtual thinking that--” because i also have spent too much time on twitter this week.

this is just like. part of this ongoing pattern i’ve noticed with virtual, where they’re aware enough of real problems to acknowledge they exist (police violence, accessibility issues caused by their tagging) but are determined to double down on their minor relative persecution as king, shittily drawing parallels between like... real problems and fandom problems. equating the two or allowing the second to take priority over the former is like... par for the course for this type of person!

third, this is just another clarification on more parallels between ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on by That Article.

i would rather DIE than get into discourse. but why did they write this sentence:

Lan Zhan’s rational mind finally broke with a tsunami of pedophilic lusts [...]

by the way that is the start of a 430 word sentence. and yes this fic does contain hundreds of thousands of words of aged down wei wuxian. make of that what you will.

also why would you make wei wuxian teach baby chickens how to sexually pleasure him. do you hate these characters. what’s going on. i think mxtx should be able to sue virtual for that one.

there’s a very obvious connection between mainstream ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on in That Article. sexy times contains multitudes and some of those multitudes are bestiality and explicit childfucking.

this is not unrelated to fannish culture, they are not unfamiliar with fannish norms, blah blah blah. this is just normal fandom. they’re not subverting shit, they’re just a normal fan who unlike 99% of fanfiction writers on twitter, spends more time writing than posting. this has taken their fannish tendencies to cartoonish heights.

finally, they don’t care about mdzs or wangxian. they’re literally just horny and spiteful that’s it. this isn’t a question of like... “ohh they were a good faith participant in fandom until they went joker mode” and the REAL villain is society/ao3. like no they wanted to write shitty porn, and when they found out they were annoying people, they decided to double down because they could be the main character of the mdzs ao3 tag every time they found a spare hour to write.

here are some select receipts on that topic:

they do not care about canon:

MDZS has quite a complicated and expansive plot and history, and enough content that one can choose to tune out certain parts and still get to the end of the story in one piece. Also, because of its source, some fans may not fully realize the nuances, cultural aspects (ooh, cultural appropriation is another triggering topic) or the full breadth and depth of the source material, such as a person like me, who is half-baked in terms of knowing what the canon universe is all about. So I end up playing with characters and settings technically borrowed from the story, and make them do things that would otherwise run counter to the original source material - and that draws quite some flak from those opinionated people I mentioned just now. It's part of what makes the fandom toxic. It's like they're the self-appointed guardians of the source material and they act like they own the rights to question such questionble fanworks, and dare I say, try to take down those that cross certain lines too.

they are just horny:

After that giddines of extra drunken Lan Wang Ji scenes at the beginning, I'm blessed with Lan Wang Ji (Wang Yibo's, actually) fuzzy nips! Bless Bless Bless, and Amen! muahs the nips on the screen

anyway they did get nuked over wishing covid on people.

so yeah. i want to be really clear. this is my thesis: i do not feel bad for them. you should not either. i do not like them. you should not either. that’s ALL!!!!

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splendidlyimperfect · 3 years

Link

When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they’re cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they’re both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn’t feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

Chapter Summary: A job gone wrong brings Gray and Natsu back to Ciralto, and they learn something new about Sting.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu/Gray, Rogue/Sting Characters: Natsu, Gray, Sting, Rogue, Lucy, Erza, Yukino Tags: Canon Universe, Dragon Slayers, Parenting, Adoption, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, basically stingue are adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and then he kind of does, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, ADHD Natsu, ADHD Sting, Autistic Rogue

-----

Gray was right. Both kids were asleep in their arms by the time they got back to their inn, and they didn’t wake when Natsu and Gray transferred them to the bed. Sting immediately reached out in his sleep, grabbing Rogue’s hand and pulling them close. Natsu sent a message to Yukino as Gray pulled the blanket up to cover both the sleeping kids.

“She said to meet her at the market instead of the guild,” Natsu said quietly, frowning at his phone.

“Jiemma’s probably not happy about us visiting,” Gray said. He rubbed his face and yawned. “He did tell us to stay away.”

“Yeah, well, what’s he gonna do? Call the Magic Council?” Natsu rolled his eyes. “He can’t stop us from coming here.”

“He could stop letting them see us, though,” Gray said. “We have to be careful.”

Continue reading on AO3

Natsu sighed and sat down on the end of the bed, careful not to disturb the kids. Gray stepped closer and Natsu reached out, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around Gray’s waist.

“They need help,” Natsu said softly. “Like I did.”

Gray sighed, running his fingers through Natsu’s hair. Sting’s outburst had been eerily similar to some of Natsu’s meltdowns when he’d been younger. Gray remembered being both frustrated at Natsu’s constant tears, and jealous that he could show his feelings so freely. It had taken Gray years to be able to cry for the family he’d lost, and Natsu had been the one to show him that his grief was okay.

“We are helping,” Gray said. He crouched down in front of Natsu and ducked his head until they were making eye contact. “Sting’s lucky to have somebody like you who gets how his brain works.”

“But I can’t always be here,” Natsu said sadly. “And it’s not just him – Rogue seemed upset earlier, too.”

Gray shook his head. “No, I thought that at first, but I think they were just excited. They were rocking in my lap when we were watching the jellyfish, too. The noise seemed to bug them a bit, they kept rubbing their ears, but they weren’t upset like Sting was.”

Natsu nodded as they both lapsed into silence. Gray ran his hands up and down Natsu’s thighs comfortingly, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Natsu smiled, turning and catching Gray’s next kiss on the lips.

“C’mere,” he said, shifting over and tugging on Gray’s arm. The bed was barely large enough for the four of them, but Natsu managed to lie down next to Sting, who made a quiet sound in his sleep as he snuggled closer to Rogue. Gray sighed and curled up against Natsu, immediately relaxing as the tension in his shoulders started to fade.

“I think we need a nap too,” Natsu said sleepily, pulling Gray close.

“Mm.” Gray kissed Natsu’s forehead and wrapped an arm around his waist, letting himself succumb to exhaustion. “Go to sleep.”

After that, Gray and Natsu visited as often as possible. Sting was always thrilled, throwing himself into hugs and telling them both a million stories. Rogue was still the more reserved of the two, but over time they started to open up as well, eagerly telling Gray and Natsu facts they’d learned since the last visit – most of them about jellyfish.

“They can make other ones of themselves,” Rogue said proudly the next time they went to the aquarium. “If they fall apart they turn into new ones!”

“That’s gross,” Sting said, pressing his face against the glass.

“You’re gross,” Rogue replied, bouncing on the balls of their feet and sticking their tongue out at Sting. “An’ some of them have teeths.”

“Super duper gross.” Sting looked up at Gray and grinned. “D’galu! Na?”

Gray’s face lit up, just like it did every time he spoke Isvanian with the kids. “Sy’at jant,” he chided with a smile on his face. “Be nice.”

Natsu leaned in and kissed Gray’s cheek, laughing at the blush that crept up the back of his neck. “I like seeing you happy,” he said quietly, kissing Gray’s ear. Gray didn’t reply, just bumped his head against Natsu’s and squeezed his hand.

Dropping the kids off with Yukino after visits was the difficult part.

“Why you can��t stay here?” Sting would ask each time, arms wrapped tightly around Natsu’s neck. “I miss you when you go away.”

Each time Natsu would explain that his and Gray’s families were back in Magnolia, and that they’d be back again soon, but as time went on, it got harder and harder to leave. The last time they’d headed home, Sting’s disappointment and frustration had ended with him yelling at Natsu and pushing him away, refusing to hug him or wave goodbye.

“He didn’t mean it,” Gray said gently as they rode the train home. Natsu lay sideways on the bench with his head in Gray’s lap, eyes closed while Gray ran cool fingers across his forehead and through his hair.

“I know.” Natsu’s voice was muffled by Gray’s sweater. “I did the same thing when I was little.”

“I remember,” Gray said with a small smile. “You told me you hated me.”

“I was kind of an asshole.” Natsu slipped his hand under Gray’s sweater and ran his thumb across his ribs. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean it either,” Gray reassured him.

Natsu didn’t answer, just sighed and cuddled closer. Gray tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and let a burst of cool magic trickle across Natsu’s temples.

“He’s getting worse,” Natsu said after a while. “I’m really worried about him. Both of them.”

Gray nodded as he looked out the window. Sting’s outbursts had been happening more and more often lately – usually fighting with other kids or turning to shouting and tears as soon as something didn’t go his way. Rogue, on the other hand, never yelled. Instead, they would cry and withdraw if something overwhelmed them, and it could take hours to calm them down.

“I don’t know what to do,” Natsu said softly. “Sting was talking about fighting again today. He’s obsessed with being the strongest.” He hesitated, then added, “He had bruises again, too.”

Gray’s stomach twisted with the same unsettled sensation that happened anytime he saw marks on either of the kids. The first time Sting had shown up to their visits with a bruise on his arm, he’d insisted it was from falling while playing. It wasn’t unbelievable – Gray remembered the myriad of injuries he’d had from roughhousing as a kid – but something about it didn’t feel right.

“Maybe we should say something,” he said.

“To who?” Natsu sounded miserable. “We don’t have any proof. They both tell us it was accidents, Yukino won’t talk to us, and nobody’s going to make a move against one of the most powerful guilds in Fiore. And if we try, it could make it worse for them.” He sighed. “All we can do is keep visiting, and I feel so useless.” He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “I miss them already.”

“I know,” Gray said, tipping his head against the window and sighing. “I miss them too.”

Their next trip to visit the kids started with a job gone wrong.

“I thought the job poster said it was one monster,” Gray hissed as he jumped backward, barely dodging the venomous spittle that flew through the air. He held out both hands and shards of ice flew from his fingertips, shredding through the group of snake-like monsters that were attacking them.

“Technically it was one monster,” Natsu said. He tossed a fireball down the hill into the center of the snakes, and Gray wrinkled his nose against the smell of burning flesh. “At least, until it turned into… that.”

The writhing mass of snakes hissed in unison. Half of them were blackened and burned in piles on the ground, surrounded by prisons of ice. The remaining ones quickly slithered together, making a squelching sound as they solidified back into one creature.

“Fucking hell,” Gray muttered, firing bolts of ice at the creature in an attempt to pin it to the ground. It snarled at him, opening its mouth wide and showing off teeth that were nearly as long as his arm.

“Go for its head!” Natsu shouted, scrambling down the hill as he blasted it with bursts of flame. It turned away from Gray, bright red eyes tracking Natsu’s movements as he leaped toward it. Gray quickly narrowed his magic into a spear, exhaling and focusing on the monster’s throat before firing.

The monster screamed in rage and pain as the lance pierced its neck. The ground underneath Gray trembled and he stumbled forward. Before he could catch his balance, something heavy slammed into him and knocked him onto his back.

Gray grunted in pain as he pushed himself up on one elbow and tried to focus on what had hit him. It took him a second to realize it was the end of the snake’s tail, tipped with a set of razor-sharp barbs. He blinked slowly, then looked down at himself. Blood dripped from five deep wounds that ran directly across his chest and stomach.

“Gray!” Natsu’s panicked shout filled the air and was quickly followed by an enormous blast of fire. The tail flailed a few times as the creature shrieked in pain, then dropped to the ground as everything stopped. Natsu appeared at the top of the hill and dropped to his knees next to Gray, quickly tearing off his shirt and pressing it to the wounds on Gray’s chest. Gray hissed in pain, grabbing at Natsu’s wrists.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Natsu reassured him. His hands shook as Gray’s blood quickly soaked through the shirt and started to stain his hands. “Hold this.” He took Gray’s hand and held it against the makeshift bandage. “We have to stop the bleeding.” He yanked off his scarf and folded it carefully, then pressed it against the wound as well. Gray’s vision swam as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

“You can cauterize—” He gasped as a wave of nausea hit him, and he quickly rolled onto his side and threw up.

“What the hell?” Natsu gripped Gray’s shoulder as he vomited again, shaking at the heat and sparks of pain that were quickly flooding his body. “What’s wrong?”

“Think it’s… poison,” Gray managed. Natsu swore as he carefully pulled back the corner of the shirt. The edges of the wounds were a dark purple color, and black coloring spread out from it in strange patterns across Gray’s skin.

“Shit.” Natsu covered it back up, wrapping the ends of his scarf around Gray’s torso and tying it off. “I can’t cauterize it if it’s poisoned. We have to get you to a medic.” He pulled out his lacrima phone and quickly sent a message to Yukino – Gray’s hurt, get a doctor to the inn. Please. Then he shoved the phone back in his pocket and shifted so Gray was behind him.

“C’mon,” he said, trying his best to be gentle as he maneuvered Gray onto his back. “You’re gonna be okay.”

It took almost two hours to reach the city.

“We must be getting close,” Natsu said, trying to keep his voice steady as he shifted Gray on his back. He slid his arms under Gray’s thighs to nudge him further up as Gray made a soft sound of protest. “You still awake back there?”

“’m fine,” Gray insisted, words slurred. “I can… walk.”

“Uhuh.” Natsu rolled his eyes. “Last time I put you down you fell over.”

“Did not.”

“Wanna try again?”

Gray was quiet for a second, then let out a quiet groan of pain and pressed his forehead to the back of Natsu’s neck. Even Natsu, who ran naturally hot, could feel the feverish heat of Gray’s skin against his, and he cursed under his breath. Gray was barely holding on, arms looped loosely around Natsu’s shoulders, and his breathing was ragged and uneven.

“Hang on, Snowflake,” Natsu said softly, sighing in relief when they crested the hill and the outskirts of the city appeared on the horizon. “Look, we’re almost there.”

Gray didn’t reply, just shivered, and Natsu flared up his magic just enough to keep him warm as they walked. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the gate, and by that time, Gray was unconscious. Luckily, the inn where they were supposed to meet Yukino and the kids wasn’t far.

“The doctor is here,” said the innkeeper when Natsu stepped through the door. She gestured to the first room in the hallway, and he ducked inside, sighing with relief when he saw Yukino, Sting, and Rogue, and an unfamiliar woman in medic’s robes.

“What happened?” the doctor asked, gesturing to one of the beds. Natsu laid Gray down gently, making an apologetic sound when Gray groaned in pain. His face was pale, and the makeshift bandage on his chest was soaked with blood.

“A monster.” Natsu rubbed his face as he slumped down on the bed next to Gray. “It was like… a snake, sort of. Or lots of snakes. It’s dead, but it hit him with its tail.”

“A nagehi,” the woman said as she pulled back the bandage to expose the wound on Gray’s chest. It was still bleeding sluggishly, and the black marks had spread across his ribs and up to his throat.

“This isn’t good,” the healer said, pressing gently at the skin around the wound. “The nagehi’s bite is usually deadly – I’m honestly surprised he’s survived this long.”

“Can you heal him?” Natsu demanded. He took one of Gray’s limp hands between his and squeezed it.

“I can try.” The woman put both hands out, closing her eyes for a moment as a greenish light emanated from them. Natsu held his breath as he stared at the magic and held Gray’s hand tightly. After a moment, the healer pulled back and shook her head sadly. “The poison has spread too far,” she said, voice gentle. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“No,” Natsu whispered, leaning closer and touching Gray’s cheek. “You have to—there has to be something. Someone.” He looked over at Yukino, who was staring sadly at him from where she sat with the two kids. “Wendy,” Natsu said, looking back at the healer. “Wendy could fix it, she just—she’s in Magnolia, can you—”

“I’ll try to contact her,” Yukino said, pulling out her lacrima phone. She whispered something to Sting and Rogue, who stayed on the bed while Yukino stepped out of the room.

“He won’t survive that long.” The healer touched Natsu’s shoulder, and he shrugged her hand off angrily. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, then quietly left the room.

Everything around Natsu slipped away as he stared at Gray. An ache spread through his chest, pulling the air from his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from Gray’s face with trembling fingers, shaking his head in disbelief. Gray couldn’t die. Not here, not from this, not—

“I can help.” A small, quiet voice snapped Natsu out of his pain, and he looked up to see Sting standing on the other side of the bed. Rogue wasn’t far behind him, staring over Sting’s shoulder at the mess of blood and venom on Gray’s chest.

“Sweetheart,” Natsu said, voice breaking. “I know you wanna help, but you can’t—”

Sting ignored Natsu and stood on his tiptoes, holding the edge of the bed and carefully reaching up to touch Gray’s chest. Gray made a pained sound, shivering violently as the fever wracked his body with chills. Natsu’s eyes widened when Sting started to glow with a soft, white light.

“Don’t be mad,” Sting whispered, refusing to look at Natsu. “Please.”

Natsu stared as the scales along Sting’s temples and cheeks started to shimmer, bright and iridescent. The magic flowed down his arm, pulsing out of his fingers and sinking into the skin around the wound. The black marks immediately started to recede, pushed away by the bright, healing light.

“Holy shit,” Natsu breathed, leaning against the edge of the bed as he watched the magic flow through Gray’s entire body. When it touched his temples, the pained look on his face faded. His gasping breaths evened out as the shivering stopped.

Natsu reached out to touch Sting’s hand, but Sting quickly flinched away and backed up toward the other bed. His magic faded, leaving him red-faced as he stared at the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Natsu said gently as he stared at Gray’s chest, amazed to see scar tissue covering what had been a devastating wound only moments ago. “You... saved him.” He looked back up at Sting, who was holding his hands behind his back and looking like he might cry. “What’s wrong?” Natsu asked, pushing himself off the bed and crouching down to Sting’s level.

Sting just shook his head. There was a soft touch on Natsu’s arm, and he turned to see Rogue standing next to him, giving him a serious look.

“Sting can fix it when we’re hurt,” they said. “but he’s not allowed ’cause its not strong.”

A flash of rage coursed through Natsu and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from growling. That fucking asshole. He turned back to Sting and held out his hand.

“Sting,” he said, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “You aren’t in trouble. I promise. I’m so happy you’re here, you did such a good thing.” Sting peeked up at him but didn’t look convinced. “You are so strong and so amazing. You saved Uncle Gray’s life.” The words caught in his throat and he swallowed back tears. “I’m so proud of you.”

Sting looked at Rogue, then back at Natsu, his expression somewhere between uncertain and relieved. “I’m not supposed to,” he insisted.

“That’s fuc—” Natsu cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I don’t care what anybody else says. Uncle Gray was very, very sick and he could have—he might have died, if you hadn’t helped. And you saved him. That makes you so, so strong.” He held out both arms. “C’mere. It’s okay.”

Sting chewed his lip for a second, then took a small step forward. When Natsu’s fingers touched his arm he flinched, but he quickly darted into the embrace and pressed his face against Natsu’s shoulder. Natsu held him tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“How did you do that?” Natsu asked after a second, pulling back from the embrace and pushing himself to his feet. He helped both kids up onto the bed next to Gray, who was still unconscious. His expression was peaceful, and the occasional glimmer of white magic swirled under his skin.

“I maked it good,” Sting said seriously. “The black stuff was yucky and I can fix it.” Now that he knew Natsu wasn’t angry, he seemed to relax a little. He touched Gray’s forehead carefully and closed his eyes. “It still hurts so he’s sleeping but the bad stuff is all gone.” Then he shifted closer to Gray and curled up next to him, resting his head on Gray’s shoulder and keeping his hand over the scars on his chest. Rogue copied him, cuddling up to Gray’s other side and putting their hand over Sting’s.

“You’re a healer,” Natsu said softly as he pulled a chair next to the bed and settled down in it. “Like Wendy.”

Sting’s brow furrowed in a pout. “I can fight, too,” he insisted. Natsu was about to reply when Yukino poked her head back in the door.

“I talked to Wendy,” she started to say, then trailed off when she saw Gray’s peaceful face and scarred chest. Her eyes widened, flicking between Natsu and the kids.

“Did you know?” Natsu asked. “About his magic?” Yukino shook her head slowly as she stepped toward the bed. Sting refused to look at her, just curled up tighter against Gray.

“Sting did this?” Yukino asked softly.

Natsu nodded. “He saved Gray’s life.”

A calm descended over the room as Yukino leaned down, brushing Sting’s messy curls out of his face and kissing his forehead. Natsu’s heart ached at the uncertainty on Sting’s face, and the anger from before resurfaced.

He’s not allowed.

It’s not strong.

I’m not supposed to.

Natsu let the anger simmer as he watched the kid’s joined hands rise and fall with Gray’s slow, even breaths.

You are strong, he thought. And I’m going to get you away from that asshole if it’s the last thing I do.

#fairy tail #gratsu #stingue #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #ft fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfic #let me be your haven #update #new chapter #my fic

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luninosity · 4 years

Text

Time for @whumptober2020 Prompt 4!

Number 4: Running Out Of Time - specific prompt: collapsed building

Er...sorry about this. Um, if it helps: Seb’s probably not hurt quite as badly as Chris’s panicked brain thinks - Chris isn’t the most reliable narrator - and he’ll be okay. Probably. With some emergency medical attention.

Warnings: serious injury? Chris being afraid Seb’s dying? in my head-canon aftermath sequel, he’ll be okay, I promise!

“Seb?” Chris hears his own voice crack. Shatter. Break right down the middle. “Sebastian?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer. No sound at all.

No. That’s not true. Groans and creaks of metal and wood. Beams and bars. The broken building’s twisted and dying all around them.

“Sebastian!” Louder this time. Hiding fear with volume. Sebastian had been beside him, a step above him, both of them on the old building’s staircase. They’d been meant to run down the steps, to be caught on camera, to escape the explosion. The special effects team had rigged it all up.

He can’t think. His ears’re ringing. If Sebastian’s answered—

“Seb? Say something!”

Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

Chris coughs. Tries to inhale, breathes dust, coughs again. Dry as bone.

He himself has landed in an oddly empty space, under a couple of beams that’ve landed at just the right angles for shelter. He’s hurting everywhere because he’d hit the ground hard, but he’s pretty sure nothing’s even broken, though his left hip’s screaming at him about landing on it and he’ll be limping for a while.

On his knees, he shouts Sebastian’s name again, or tries to. Coughs some more.

They’d had everything set up, he recalls—they’d been ready to run out of the building, himself and Seb being Steve and Bucky—

The earth had jumped. Shuddered. Shaken angrily.

A short quake. Barely anything. Laughable, really.

Except it hadn’t been, except the explosives had gone off early and the whole fucking building had—

And Sebastian’s not answering—

“Seb,” Chris begs. “Say something, talk to me—answer me, if you can, something, anything, fuck—come on, Seb—”

The not-quite silence swings back in and dooms the world. Chris shoves himself to his knees.

Some other noises happen, distant. On the other side of the collapse. Outside this agonizing bubble of himself and a cave of rubble and a missing Sebastian Stan, which means the missing other half of Chris’s heart, because—

Because Sebastian’s always been the other half of his heart. Hell, he’s known that for years. Sebastian Stan, sweet and mischievous and shy on first meeting but wickedly playful and adorably weird once comfortable around people, and oh Chris has thrilled to the idea of being one of those people Seb’s comfortable with over the years, knowing Seb’s grown to trust him, knowing how Sebastian loves coffee and Scottish Fold kittens and astronomy and pizza—

He’d let it become routine. Himself, wanting Seb. Seb smiling and hardworking and gulping down caffeine and diving into a character and lighting up a room. Seb maybe laughing at Chris’s jokes, sometimes; Seb maybe responding with a soft surprised smile, sometimes, when Chris touches him or says his name or hugs him at an opening night afterparty.

He’d thought they’d have time. He’d thought they’d have more years. Slow and easy, gentle and unhurried, no rush. They’d get there together, he’d hoped, and it’d been simpler just to let it all be what it was, going along.

They’re together now. Under a collapsed building and anguished metal. And Sebastian’s silent. Sebastian’s not answering. Sebastian might be—

No. Chris says it aloud, shaking, in pain. “No.”

On his knees, he fights to see through haze. More muffled noises happen; rescue efforts, probably. He tries shouting back but he’s pretty sure they can’t hear.

He crawls closer to the nearest heap of rubble. Nothing recognizable. Only broken bits of building.

He whispers, “Sebastian…”

Nothing moves or stirs, but a shape resolves itself: not Seb, but the edge of the staircase, a fractured bottom step, a shard of bannister. Chris throws himself that way. Seb had been above him on the steps—

Closer, he can see a shred of black. Bucky’s wardrobe? A boot? An ankle? A shadow? He flings himself down beside wood and marble and debris. He can’t see.

He pleads with the universe, “Sebastian—!”

Something does move, then. Fingertips. And Sebastian’s voice, weak, too weak: “…Chris?”

“I’m here! I’m here, I’m here—oh thank god, Seb, fuck, thank god, thank you—talk to me, keep talking—” A slab of building’s blocking his view of Sebastian. No, two slabs: one leaning perilously over Seb’s body, one lying on his shoulder and not letting Chris see his face.

Chris gets a hand into Sebastian’s fingers. They’re cold. This isn’t the arm with Bucky’s metal sleeve. “Seb? Talk to me, come on, you said my name, what’s up, what else, ask me anything.”

“Chris,” Sebastian says again, vaguely. “You feel warm.”

You don’t, Chris thinks. “Yeah, it’s just ’cause your hand’s kinda cold, but hey, you get cold a lot, right? You told me that once. Why you like jackets and sweaters and scarves and stuff. Um, I think I can move this one, there’s not a lot in the way, I’m gonna try, okay?”

“Okay.” Sebastian still doesn’t sound very coherent. Chris’s chest tightens.

He sizes up the chunk of apocalypse on Seb’s shoulder. Nothing’s leaning on it, so if he can shove it over that way and off the edge of the step right there—

He can. He has to take his hand out of Seb’s to use both arms, but he can.

He spins back to Sebastian, panting and triumphant. All the words in the universe die away. He can feel the impact, the numbness, the draining of blood from his face.

And blood is too appropriate, too horrible, because there’s red, there’s too much red, it’s under the back of Sebastian’s head and trickling across the sharp edge of a step, and Sebastian’s eyes’re open but his face is white, white against scarlet…

“Chris?” Sebastian coughs. Breathes, shallow and shaky. His other arm seems to be okay, oddly: lying across his stomach. The rest of the rubble blocks his hips, his legs, with voiceless compassion. Chris doesn’t know what’s hiding under there.

He whispers around clogging chunks of icy grief, “I’m here.” He puts his hand back in Sebastian’s. Kneeling beside the stairs.

“Are you…” Sebastian stops to breathe. “Okay?”

“Me? Fine. I’m fine. Not hurt. You—you don’t have to worry about me, okay? Don’t worry about anything.” He puts his other hand atop Seb’s, in his. “Just stay with me.”

“I’m here,” Sebastian murmurs. His eyes aren’t quite focused, though they try: finding Chris. “Nothing even hurts much…just sort of strange…tired…and cold…”

“Oh god,” Chris says, and has to lift a hand, to press it over his mouth. “Seb, I—I…”

“I can’t move much,” Sebastian says. “I think my leg’s stuck. My toes move, though…so that’s good.”

“Yeah…yeah, that’s…good…”

“Did everyone…” Seb’s eyebrows tug together. “The effects people…setting up…did they get out?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t. He can’t think. “But we’re all gonna get out, okay? They’re coming for us, they’ll find us, you can hear them, right? Those sounds? That’s people coming to rescue us, okay?”

“I can hear it…I think.” Sebastian shuts his eyes, or lets them shut. “Maybe.”

“Seb. Please. Please stay awake. Please talk to me.” He squeezes Sebastian’s limp fingers. Sebastian doesn’t react at first, but then squeezes back a fraction.

That’s a good sign. Has to be. Maybe it’s not as bad as Chris thinks. Head wounds bleed a lot, don’t they? Even minor ones? And Seb’s awake, talking, moving toes…

Is Seb awake?

“Sebastian?”

No.

“Seb!”

Sebastian’s eyes don’t open. Long eyelashes still over pale skin. More red spills vicious over cracked stair-marble.

“Seb. Sebastian. Stay with me. Stay with me, stay here—please don’t, please don’t go, please—”

The world’s a blur. Rock-dust and tears.

Chris cradles that lax hand in his. Lifts it. Kisses Seb’s fingers, frantic, tasting smudges and salt. That’s his own: water over Seb’s skin. “Please,” he says. “Please, Seb, I love you—please don’t leave me, I love you, I should’ve said—I should’ve told you—every time I thought it I should’ve told you, a fucking million times, over and over—so fucking stupid, I should’ve just tried, should’ve said—please let me say it. Please wake up and let me say it.”

He says, “Please let me try again. Please. Seb, come on, please, I’m a fucking mess here, you know you want to wake up and laugh at me for getting all fucking melodramatic here, and I totally am, you’re right, I know, so come on, just say so, just wake up and say so.”

He says, “Please, Seb, please, god, someone, please, I love you, Sebastian, I love you.”

He says, “Please just—just know I love you, I always have, I love you and I’m here, Seb, I’m right here.”

An incongruous streak of sunlight turns dust-motes to gilt, painfully gold and hovering through cracks. It brushes Sebastian’s hand on its way to the side of the room.

More sounds, more shouting, happen outside. Excited. A breakthrough.

Chris gazes at Sebastian’s face. At Sebastian’s lips, parted.

Sebastian’s lips are still a little pink, not colorless. Sebastian’s head’s turned slightly his way, beautiful even now. Sebastian’s…

…breathing.

Sebastian’s breathing. Chris can see it. Faint, not deep, but there: chest moving, up and down.

Chris’s own chest lurches. Heaves with relief. Tries to throw its own heart in there and beat alongside Seb’s, shoring up weak thumps, offering support.

He whispers, “Sebastian…”

He’s still holding Seb’s hand against his mouth. Seb’s eyelashes flutter. Then lift.

“Seb,” Chris says, mind and thoughts empty of everything but that. White and blank and overwhelmed.

“Chris?” Sebastian sounds even weaker, and confused, but alive. “I thought…you were talking…I’m sorry, I couldn’t…I can’t think…did you say…something…”

“Said a lot of things,” Chris says, lightheaded with reprieve. “It’s okay, you’re kinda tired, I’ll forgive you for not, y’know, listening…”

“But I want to.” Seb blinks at him. “Always liked that…listening to you…’m yours, you know. Anything…if you ever want me…’s always been you. For me. Just…right…sorry, I know ’m not making sense…”

“You,” Chris manages. “You are—you said—you want me, you said—it’s right—”

“Yeah.” Seb closes his eyes, making Chris’s heart teeter on a cliff’s-edge, but then opens them again. “You don’t have to…”

“I fucking love you!”

“You—” Sebastian’s eyes actually open more. “You…wait…”

“I’m fucking in love with you,” Chris announces, Chris tells him, Chris proclaims to the world and the dust motes and the slabs of debris. “I love you, Seb. And you’re not gonna fucking die, and we’re gonna—figure this out, we’ll talk about this, we’ll—I don’t know—but you’re not fucking dying and I love you and neither of us is going anywhere, got it?”

Sebastian blinks again. “…I’ll…try? Chris?”

“Yeah?” Holding on, holding Seb’s hand, hoping hard. “Yeah, go on, anything, ask me.”

“I’m scared,” Seb whispers, “it doesn’t hurt…I think maybe it should…the way you look…but I’ll try. I feel…it’s so…but I want…I want to stay.”

“Good.” Chris kisses his hand one more time, a desperate magic spell. “Then that’s that, okay? You’re here and I’m here and you’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“You said it…I didn’t…meant to…”

“What?” Someone’s shouting. Calling his name. More light streams in. Space opening up. Rescue arriving. People with medical training, equipment, ways to fight back against wounds and crimson streaks over stone. “Seb? Come on, Seb, what?”

Sebastian whispers, “I love you,” and keeps holding his hand, and maybe, maybe, Chris thinks. Maybe today they get a miracle. A second chance. A last-minute million-to-one reprieve. Maybe someone somewhere believes in love.

It’s not a certainty, not yet. Sebastian’s badly hurt. Chris knows he is.

But Seb’s alive and breathing and holding onto him. That’s also true: the truest piece of the world, right now.

So Chris is breathing too. Chris is alive too. And they’re together. That’s enough for the next few seconds, and the next, and the next after that, and maybe a future.

He holds onto Sebastian as help floods in. Seb loves him, and he loves Seb. And he has hope.

#evanstan #whumptober2020 #no.4 #collapsed building #fic #whump #injury tw #near death tw

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