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lovely-angst · 3 years

Text

break ups and break ins

a/n: i didn't have any motivation to continue writing so it stayed in my drafts for forever. it's a super messy fic im not super proud of tbh i wanted to scrap it but i got so far lol

genre: angst to fluff

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: you and hawks break up, but someone breaks in?

word count: 3.7k+

09.16.21

"come on, stop being so sensitive," hawks groans with an eye roll as you gawk at him. "you think i'm being sensitive because I'm hurt that you're out there flirting with other girls while we are in a relationship?"

you scoff in disbelief before tears form in your eyes, "i can't believe you right now, keigo."

hawks' brows knit as he stares at you bewildered, "i've already told you that it's just an act i have to out up because of the commission. i can't let them figure out i have a romantic relationship with someone. you don't know what they would do or could do."

"but that doesn't mean you can flirt around with no boundaries!" your voice comes out loud as your arms flail out in front of you, tears streaming down your face, "do you know how much it hurts to see you on television sweet-talking every girl out there when you're my boyfriend? i thought you would respect what we have..."

"(name), just admit you're just jealous of the fangirls and leave it at that," hawks closes his eyes, shaking his head in frustration, "honestly, they appreciate me so much more than you do."

your eyes widen in shock as you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces so small you aren't sure if you could piece it back up.

"keigo, i love you for who you are—not because you're hawks," your voice now small and laced with hurt. "if you can't see the reason why i am so upset, i think it's best if we end it."

hawks' eyes quickly glance to yours before they look away just as quick, "i think that's what's best too," he whispers, causing your brows to furrow in sadness as you purse your lips tightly.

taking a step forward, you wrap your arms around your now ex-boyfriend, taking in his comforting arms and smell, "thanks for everything." a heavy sigh left from his lips before he nuzzled into you, "can i hold you in bed one last time?"

words died in your throat as you felt the tears sting your eyes once more. a nod was your only reply as hawks lifted the two of you up with his large wings, carrying you into the bedroom.

no words were exchanged as the two of you allowed your quiet breaths to mingle together in silence.

your heart was still achey from the fresh break-up as your cries and tears quietly filled the air. your nose and eyes red and raw from all the wiping you had done—the tissues around you as proof.

"hey, come on. you can't keep living like this and expect to get better," mirko says and she stands infront of you with a small smile. "how about we watch something to distract your mind?" she suggests as she turns around to pick up the controller to turn the television screen on.

"hawks, being the number two hero must be so taxing! how do you do it?"

hawks gives that big bright smile you've always loved, "my fans always give me motivation to do my best! i love you my babybirds!"

"oh shit-" mirko quickly turns the television screen off before she turns over to you, watching as your lips quiver before you break out in another crying session.

"rumi," you whine, muffled behind your tissues, "he doesn't care for me at all!" letting out a sigh, she walks over and places a comforting hand on your hair before running her hand through your locks, "hey, don't say that. hawks' cared for you a lot. break-ups happen, but don't let it keep you like this. let's go out and have some fun today, yeah?"

your teary eyes glance up at her before you let out sigh, "okay."

but to your surprise, a quick hour later here you were on a chair getting your makeup done professionally as mirko sat on the couch, munching away on a carrot. "rumi? why am i getting my makeup done professionally?"

"my makeup artist is good at what she does when she beats my face with makeup for those hero galas. i thought it would make you feel better getting your makeup done professionally before we go out and explore the city a bit," she finishes, taking another crunchy bite of her carrot.

a small, "oh" leaves your lips before your attention focuses back on the lipstick that gently glided across your lips. "there, all done. you look great!" the makeup artist cheers as she hands you a mirror.

your eyes sparkled once you saw your reflection—you had never felt so pretty before!

"are you ready to go out now?" mirko asks with a smile as she stands from her seat. you couldn't help the small, yet excited, smile, "yeah."

your words had been on repeat in hawks' mind.

you were upset because of how he was treating his fans—flirting with his fans as you put it. it was a constant argument the two of you had and frankly, he was getting tired of it. why you couldn't understand where he was coming from?

he didn't want to break up because of something so trivial, but it seemed like a break up was the only option. but it was fine, his fans kept him going; or that's what he thought was keeping him going.

"hawks! we love you!" his fans cried as he landed down in front of them, his handsome smile swooning everyone lucky enough to get their eye on him. "thanks birdies! i'm always happy to have your support!"

"can i have a picture?" "sign my shirt for me!" "you're the best hero!"

fans; something he enjoyed about being a hero. everywhere he went, they were there to offer him their love and support which he appreciated and loved!

but there often came days when he just wanted to stay cooped in his apartment. away from the world and away from the hero hawks. he simply wanted to escape and enjoy being keigo for a little while.

maintaining a facade took a lot away from him. it was tiring, exhausting even, trying to keep up with how fast his mind was going. a million different things happening at once and hawks had to be able to solve them. a little much for a single guy, don't 'cha think?

landing in at his balcony, hawks let out a heavy sigh as he was finally done with another tiring day of being the number two hero. thankfully, he had the next day off to do, well, nothing.

staring at the dark apartment with a an empty look, hawks let out a groan of exhaustion before unlocking the door and stepping in.

it was quiet, extra quiet these days. since he had gone to living by himself again.

after removing his hero gear, hawks walked into the kitchen and frowned at his lack of food in the fridge. usually, you were always there to greet him with a smile and a hearty dinner after a hard day at work.

well, that didn't matter anymore because you two had broken up, hawks mentally responded to his thoughts.

it seemed like tonight was one of those nights he really missed you.

you made this place feel like home and the more he thought about it, you were his home. he was safe with you and it was okay to let hawks go for the night and just be keigo. you loved him as he came, his flaws and everything. even the emotional baggage!

letting out an exhausted sigh, hawks closed his empty fridge before making his way towards his bed, plopping down with a grunt. "i'll just get a bigger breakfast tomorrow," he noted, pulling out his phone to catch up on his social media for the night.

hawks wasn't expecting to see much on his social media, he's too busy to be checking these sorts of things. today though, he was a little extra bored at home—until he saw a photo of you that mirko shared.

hawks quickly sat up in disbelief. hawks was genuinely confused. you had always been super pretty, but you were extra pretty in this picture. was it because you were no longer his? his eyes glanced over you in the photo for many long minutes as he took in your beauty. you looked so ethereal.

hawks was so thankful for mirko, he would have never stumbled across this photo of you.

the more he smiled at the photo, the more his heart ached. if only he just listened to you more and tried to find a solution to this problem, you would still be with him, in his arms. he was a fool to let you go because he didn't understand your pain. especially when you were always there for him when you couldn't understand his pain.

hawks found himself pulling up that photo of you whenever the days were tough. it never failed to bring a smile to his lips.

until mirko deleted the post.

he should've saved it when he had the chance, hawks thought as he let out a groan upon finding no picture. but, maybe mirko still had it on her phone? thankfully, there was a top five hero meeting that day which meant he could ask mirko about the picture.

hawks sat impatiently in his chair as he drummed his finger against his thigh, counting down the minutes until the meeting would conclude. it must've been distracting, because mirko approached him first after the meeting.

"hey birdbrain, what's up with you? you looked distracted during the meeting," mirko questioned walking up to the winged hero. hawks perked up slightly, before giving her a smile, "hmm? nah, just sick of meetings, wanted to get out." mirko eyed him curiously, "if you say so."

"i saw that picture you posted of (name)," he commented, "you two were hanging out?"

"huh? oh, this picture?" pulling up the picture on her phone, she showed him the photo before pulling away to hawks' dismay. "yeah, we went out. it was about time too! (name) seemed to be enjoying herself, so i'm glad i got to capture that."

hawks couldn't help the smile on his lips knowing that you were happy and could enjoy yourself. he really just wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn't with him.

"if you wanted the photo, you could've just asked," mirko smirks, causing hawks to duck his head down in embarrassment. "but even if you ask, im not giving it to you." Hawks turned his head brows furrowed and confused, slightly offended, "why would you even suggest it then?"

"not sure, maybe it'll be a way to encourage you to find a way to get it."

mirko had an interesting way of talking, hawks thought as he continued on with his patrol. it seemed like she was hinting at more than what she was saying, but he wasn't really interested in solving puzzles when he was busy being the number 2 hero.

and boy, was he busy busy.

it felt as if all the villains knew hawks would be out on patrol today, using that to their advatange by stiring up so much more trouble than on a typical day—not that he couldn't handle it, it was just more work that he would have hoped to do that day.

from the sky, he could see a crowd forming below on the streets as they cheered him on for another successful capture. hawks let out an exhausted sigh, but floated down to greet his fans nonetheless. there even happened to be press.

"hawks! you were amazing out there!" "great work! i can always count on you!" "you looked so attractive fighting those villains!"

hawks lifted up his visor and gave the fans a handsome grin, causing a chorus of squeals. hawks glanced at one of the fans near him lips curled in a smirk, mouth ready to open and say a few lines that would send arrows straight to the heart when he subconsciously stopped himself.

closing his mouth, he gave her a gentle smile before a soft reply came out, "thank you for supporting me."

it was weird of him to respond to fans in such fashion, but your words were stuck in the back of his head. he wished he could have acted this way before you two broke it off, it would have saved a lot of heartache.

hawks hoped you would notice his change. and unbeknownst to him, you had.

your eyes were glued to the television that aired the news that also happened to feature your ex-boyfriend, hawks. your heart felt fuzzy as you watched him, he seemed different...more down to earth?

"your eyes haven't left the tv since hawks appeared," mirko comments causing you to avert your eyes embarrassed. "i was just interested in the news for today, that's all," you tried but knew mirko wouldn't buy into your lie.

"yeah, okay. keep telling yourself that," she chuckles as she she sits down beside you. "so, whats going on in that head of yours now?"

"he's different now, rumi," you state, eyes drifting back to the screen. "he's talking to his fans like they're fans." your shoulders slump sadly, "i wish he was like this when we were together...i guess he really doesn't care about me after all."

mirko lets out a grunt as she listens to your moping. turning towards her, you notice her adjusting her purple thigh high socks to sit snugly against her upper thighs, "you have patrol this evening?"

"yep, my turn for an evening patrol. they're not that bad, more bad guys come out at night," she jokes with chuckle but you don't find it funny. "i know you can easily beat them, but that doesn't mean i worry any less for you," you sigh. "stay safe please."

"will do, cry baby," she jokes once more causing you to angrily pout, "i'm not a cry baby!" "says the one crying over hawks. bye!" and with that she quickly leaves out the door before you could throw a pillow at her.

rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over toward the bedroom you shared with mirko. you had a nice futon on the floor beside of her bed that surprisingly was very comfy. organizing her room a bit and folding her clothes she tossed around, you tried to busy yourself until she came back.

which was surprisingly short.

you heard the main door swing open before hearing her move around the living room and kitchen. she must've forgotten something, you thought to yourself as you made your way toward the bedroom door you had previously closed behind you.

"rumi? did you forget something?" you ask as you open the door, just to find yourself staring at the stranger in the apartment who donned a black ski mask with some sort of weapon in their hand. unfortunately your voice had caught their attention and their head quickly turned toward you before bolting it down the hallway for you.

screaming, you quickly shut the door and locked it before the thief could get in. the rattle of the doorknob causes you to let out another shriek as you looked around for a way to protect yourself and to escape.

the only solution that came to your mind was to block the door with whatever heavy furniture mirko had on her room which consisted of her bed, a desk and her clothes drawers. you did your best to block the door, but it was proving to be not enough.

"open the door and i won't hurt you miss," the voice called out and you felt your stomach twist from their words.

you scurried around to look for your phone and thankfully found it amongst this chaos and your body went on auto-pilot and dialed the first person that came to your mind whenever you were in danger.

your shaky hand brought your phone to your ear as you ran into the furthest corner of her room. your free hand covering your trembling lips. please pick up.

"hello? (name)?"

"keigo please help me," you cried quietly so the person on the other side couldn't hear you, but the desperation in your voice was clear as day for hawks. "(name)? whats happening? where are you?" his voice was now firm and laced with worry as you began to sob in through the phone.

"i'm at mirko's and she just left for patrol but someone broke in and i hid myself in her room. i'm so scared, please come quick." and right after he heard you squeak in fear from the unidentified noises through your phone.

"i'm coming right now," you could hear the power his wings had as he lift himself into the sky, "does she have any windows you can exit from?" glancing behind you, you took a mental note that her windows were large enough for you to escape through—the only problem was mirko lived on the tenth floor.

squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded even though hawks could not see you, "yeah, but she doesn't have any escape ladders and i'm on the tenth floor." hawks cursed under his breath on the other side, "just hold on, i'm almost there."

clutching onto your phone, you jumped when the barricade you made against the door was getting tossed around from the force of the stranger on the other side trying to break in. scrambling around, you quickly unlocked the window before opening it, allowing the wind to flow in.

with another jolt from the door all of your barricades flew from the door, leaving it vulnerable. you knew the door would fall with his next move, so with trembling hands, you maneuvered your body outside the window, letting your bottom sit on the window frame.

from a distance, you could hear someone calling out your name. when you narrowed your eyes to focus, all of the stress left your body as you watched them shoot towards you. hawks had come to your rescue!

but hawks wasn't close enough.

the door behind you broke allowing the stranger into the room and before they could grab a hold of you, you jumped.

"(name)!"

as your body free fell down towards the earth, hawks used his wings to give himself one strong push forward before folding his wings tightly behind his back to gain speed to reach you.

reaching his arms out, he caught you in time before shooting back up towards the sky, "that was so stupid of you!" you shouted loudly against the wind, "what if i wasn't there in time?"

glancing up at him, you gave him a small smile, "i just knew you'd get to me in time ."

"agh, more paperwork i have to fill out!" mirko groans as she walks around her messy apartment after hawks and her had caught the suspect and had cops take care of him. as she walked away into her bedroom with a line of curses, you quietly turned over towards hawks who had his back facing you. he was on call with the commission.

"yep, i'll get that finished tomorrow," ending his call and stuffing his phone in his pocket, he turns around to find you staring at him. his cheeks flush slightly from the sudden eye contact, but he managed to compose himself. "are you doing alright? that must've been quite the terrifying experience."

"yeah, thanks for picking up. you were the first person i thought to call," you confess and he perks up. "oh yeah?"

"you've always kept me safe and i just really needed you when i was in danger. so thanks," giving him a smile he mirrors you. "of course, anything for you."

your heart flutters from his words, but you slightly turn yourself away, glancing down. you two were no longer dating, so there was no need to get butterflies over him again. "well, thanks again. you must have a busy day tomorrow."

"do you buy any chance still have that photo of you when you were out with mirko?" hawks asks suddenly causing you to glance up at him. "you know, when you two went out a couple weeks ago? you were all dolled up and honestly, just super pretty?" hawks says boldly with a sheepish grin.

"why are you asking?"

"send it my way."

you gawked at him, "you want me to send you a picture of me? we're not dating anymore, that would be weird!" hawks could only shrug, "okay, that's simple then. let's go on a date." you gawked even further, "what is going on inside of that bird brain? all this for a photo?"

"i want to be the one who takes those photos of you. i want to be the reason you get all dolled up. i know i messed up, (name). i've been changing the way i talk to my fans because i understand how i hurt you. could you give me another chance to make it better? i promise i will treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

this was coming too suddenly, your wounds were just starting to heal.

"you...you don't mean that, hawks," you say dejectedly as you back up to sit on mirko's couch. "i'm scared."

"he means it you know?" mirko pops out of the hallway suddenly and stands with her arms crossed against her chest as she stares at the two of you. "he's been asking me for that picture nonstop since he saw it online."

"but he really does love you still, (name) and i know you still love him too. go ahead and give it another shot, i'll be here to kick him to the curb if he does anything bad to you." she encourages, making you glance back towards hawks.

"promise?" your eyes are sparkly from the tears that had glossed over your eyes and hawks gives you a confident nod, "promise. i'll pick you up at six tomorrow?"

you couldn't help your growing smile, "yeah, i'll be waiting."

- e x t r a -

as hawks flew off towards his apartment, the notification ding of his phone went off causing him to take a look. you had sent him a text!

opening the message his eyes widen from the photo you sent, it was the cute pic of you all dolled up!

"i'm so in love!" he shouts loudly in the sky.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader

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northisnotup · 2 years

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I’m late!!

But I am still gonna play! Thank you @kelliealtogether for tagging me in the ‘five favourite fics that I've written (for writer appreciation day)’

This was the kindest thing you could have tagged me in, because as much as I love my fics when I post them, I tend to have a distorted view of them later on, thinking that my writing must have been so much worse, that I’m sure I fucked up the pacing, etc. But having now gone back and re-read a lot of these, I like them just as much - so much that choosing just 5 is gonna be hard!

1. Pan Cookies

Oldest first - and also because it’s the only Dragon Age fic I have and tbh I adore it. Short and sweet, Dorian and Sera deserve to bond over shitty parents - the end!

Dragon Age Inquisition, Gen.

This is the story of how Sera and Dorian became crazy, drunken, selfie-olympics bffs. Enjoy.

2. Kisseltoe

This was a holiday exchange fic that I still think is really stinkin’ cute. Did it have to be this long, or complicated? No! But I thrive on turning simple plots into drawn out character studies.

Overwatch, Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada

Trapped under the mistletoe, Cole has now kissed every person at this party but the one person he actually wants to.

3. Rita’s Blessing

First rule of thieving: Know what your mark wants.

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

First rule of thieving: Do your own research.

First rule of thieving: Know what you, yourself, want.

What Peter Nureyev wants is to wake up next to Juno Steel every day for the rest of his life. He wants to travel the galaxy at his side, day after day, until death at last parts them. He wants so deeply and with such fervor it weighs on his heart like nothing else, save the ring, which stays always in one of his many pockets, feeling like a star attempting to collapse in on itself.

And that is the problem.

FOR INSTANCE. This was supposed to be a short and sweet exchange fic for a friend. It wasn’t supposed to take as long as it did (the better part of a year) but it did! And tbh - I love it a lot. I’m glad it took that long. I’m glad I met them. I’m glad I wrote this. I genuinely think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written.

4. We often confuse what we wish for, with what is

“You just have to hope that betraying one another is not in their self-interests?” Juno misquotes back to him, dry.

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

“This is not the first partner, team, group or crew I have allied with,” Nureyev finally says, clipped and crisp. Weary and wary and just him in place of where Ransom would already be soliciting Buddy’s forgiveness. “And I’m sure you are all familiar with the...self serving nature of those in our line of work.”

He nods. “Quite. And once the job is complete, it’s not uncommon to look into the face of an ally and see an enemy instead."

Second FOR INSTANCE. This was a fic I never intended to write. As many of my fics start, this came from the want of using one particular line and having to figure out WHERE that line fit. Juno saying ‘oh you’re gonna want to think so carefully about what you say next,’ was living in my brain rent free and I had to find a home for it and so came forth this Murderbot-Leverage-esque story of Peter Nureyev, master thief.

...crap now I have to choose between Captive Prince and The Raven Cycle. Wait. No I don’t. Fuck it. I’m going rogue!

5. Attend Me

This is just fun, silly, modern day fluff. I like the world I made behind it, but mostly I just wanted to see how they fit together.

Captive Prince, Damen/Laurent

Housebound following an accident, Damen prepares an important dinner.

6. Here with You

The Raven Cycle/The Dreamer Trilogy, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish

When Adam received the invitation to Declan Lynch's wedding, he'd known that seeing Ronan again was going to be difficult.

This is one of those fics that has a huge, sprawling backstory that I have no willpower or time to fully write. However, I think this small snippit gives just enough of a look into what was and what could be and I really like it for that.

Alright! That’s enough self indulgence from me, so I’m gonna pass this off to @sanerontheinside @themarchrabbit @parakeatswrites @audikatia @rabbitdarling @the-prince-of-tides and @blue-mood-blue happy ficcing!!

#fic writer appreciation day #let's keep it going actually #my fics #north's fic writing #the chain emails of the now #captive prince #lamen #tpp #tpp fic #jupeter #pynch #yeehan #selfie Olympics bffs

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illumiru · 3 years

Note

hi cami!! based on literally everything because you have good taste I was wondering if u had any fic recs?? I am in like a good fic desert and if u have any good reads would love to read them! thank u!!

Thanks!! I have to be honest that I don't read a lot of dc fics lately bc a lot of what's posted on AO3 doesn't appeal to me tbh. But I do have some favorites that live rent-free in my head. I hope you enjoy!

baby, it's a sign of the times by danishsweethearts

Dick Grayson has a pretty bad day, but hey, he's coping.

let your love grow tall by danishsweethearts

In a move endearingly predictable and highly amusing, Dick Grayson buys a bunch of plants and proceeds to pack bond with all of them.

cold was the night and hard was the ground by danishsweethearts

Laundromats are save points.

i've been longing for silence by danishsweethearts

The Titans are Dick's family. Damian is also Dick's family. Cue the collision.

un haeng il chi by danishsweethearts

un haeng il chi (언행일치) | yán xíng yī zhì (言行一致) idiom 1. word and actions coincide; to live up to one's word 2. to match words with deeds 3. practice what you preach

The Cassandra Wayne guide to truth-telling, manifestation and prosperity.

big d stands for big (demon)or by danishsweethearts

The one where Titans Tower is haunted, and Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, original Robin, one and only Nightwing, esteemed leader, part-time exorcist, un-haunts it.

young volcanoes by dottie_wan_kenobi

You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s ten years old and hopeful. No, Bruce says. You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s fourteen and realistic. No, Bruce says. I’m going to join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s seventeen and furious. No, Bruce says. No, you are not.

Dick is nineteen now. And he’s not joining the Justice League—he’s joining the Titans.

the last of the real ones by dottie_wan_kenobi

Gar is like a blessing. He doesn’t seem to notice the shiny parts of Vic, not until it really counts—when there’s wires sticking out, something shoved through Vic like it was nothing, when he’s in danger. And even then, he treats them like any other part of the body, like a wound is a wound and it doesn’t matter that it’s not flesh, but technology.

When he asks, Gar tells him about Cliff Steele, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just used to robot guys, I guess,” he says, flippant like he’s not the first person Vic has met who didn’t recoil at the sight of him.

Vic manages a laugh, his eye—his real eye, his human eye—stinging.

if you just call me by BeatriceEagle

“Dick.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Dick, look at me.”

Slowly, as if he were pushing against a terrible force, he lifted his head.

“I have known you since I was thirteen years old, and I have known you in a dozen other lifetimes, so I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Dick held her gaze. He looked like he was searching for something in her eyes, so Donna held still and hoped he found it.

“Did you really know me in other lives?” he asked.

_____

Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years.

once upon a time... by Mayarene Rose (DickRoy)

The announcement is the talk of the kingdom. Men on horses, coming from the capital itself, shout it to every corner of the land to make sure everyone hears.

There will be a three-day festival held in honor of the crown prince’s name day!

So of course, no one can shut up about it and everyone’s making plans to make their way to the capital, one way or another.

Gotham, after all, isn’t known for its decadence. Celebrations from the capital are few and far in between. But, it’s also well known that the king absolutely dotes on his children. The has the makings of being the biggest feast anyone has seen in their lifetime.

“Huh,” Roy says. He’s in a farming village when he hears, about five days ride from the capital if he had a horse, which he does not.

Or the one where Roy is a knight errant, Dick is the crown prince, and there is a three-day celebration.

Dr. Wilson, Will I Ever Play the Violin Again? by HoodEx (DickJoey)

1 Missed Call 1:12 PM TUES 9 MAY Frank Hardy

A fond smile spreads over his face. He remembers Dick writing that as his own contact name in Joey's communicator the first time he and Joey exchanged numbers. Joey knows it's an action influenced by paranoia rather than something meant as an inside joke between friends, but he likes to think of it as a mixture of both.

"Who are you mooning over?"

Lissa crosses her arms over her chest and cuts across the room to get closer to him. Joey tries not to instinctually jerk his communicator closer to his chest as she peers down at it with a curious glint in her eye.

"Frank Hardy," Joey spells out with his fingers. "He's a friend of mine."

Her brow furrows. "Frank? Have I met him?"

Joey shakes his head.

"What do you think he was calling for?"

Hopefully not to tell me that the world is on its way to ending, Joey thinks, worrying at his lip.

"Not sure," Joey signs. His thumb hovers over the call-back button. "I guess I'm about to find out."

Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife

Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday.

He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too.

(... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Two of Six by silverwhittlingknife

There’s nothing special about this kid, no reason to remember him. But Dick remembers. Because of the photo.

Dick and Tim’s pre-nu52 relationship, from the beginning all the way to the end.

or: how Dick acquired a stalker, attempted to make him go away, and failed so badly that he acquired a brother instead.

(So far: missing scenes from childhood, Lonely Place of Dying, Knightfall, and Knightsend. Current arc: Prodigal.)

In the Palm of Your Hand by lapsedpacifist

Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.

Neurodegenerative series by lapsedpacifist

The general premise: Bruce has completely forgotten about Dick, and Dick only. Now tension is high between them and the rest of the family as they attempt to resolve the memory problem -- while drawing battlelines and realising that Dick had always been much more than a brother to them all.

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask."

— Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays

Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

This is all I could think of at the moment! I'll add more once I read the ones I encountered while I made this list. Enjoy!!

#anon.txt #fic recs

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khashanakalashtar · 3 years

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Thanks for the tag, @the-lincyclopedia!

Favorite color: I'm partial to both red and purple, and even better together.

Currently reading: I just finished Bitterblue by Kristen Cashore a couple hours ago! Next up is vol 1 of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System.

Last song: I was listening to the radio on the way home today and found out that this song that comes on all the time is by The Police, which tbh goes right along with the creepy vibe of the song. It is, unfortunately, also catchy as hell and stuck in my head right now. Don’t know what it’s called and don’t care enough to look it up, but it goes “every move you make, every breath you take, every smile you fake, I’ll be watching you.”

Last series: Currently rewatching Star Trek Discovery. Last thing I finished was probably Word of Honor.

Sweet/savory/spicy: Sweet

Currently working on:

Server fic exchange fic

WWX buys an apartment building

BDSM AU

rope fic

and ~12 that don’t have any actual text written yet

it has been a LONG time since I’ve had this many WIPs.

I don’t feel like wrestling my self-esteem right now so I’m not gonna bother tagging people. If you want to play feel free.

#tag game

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 4 years

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what do you think will be in zuko and katara's mind when they reunite with aang and hear of how he spared ozai (after the battle, before zuko's coronation, or even after?)? by the way, please stay safe and well!

(okay but tbh i could totally write a whole fic about this very thing one day 👀)

i imagine katara would be so relieved to see him alive (she has already seen him die once, she has already lost him for days on end) that before she asks any questions she simply pulls him into the tightest possible embrace, biting her quivering lip to fight back tears as aang slowly wraps his arms around her in return, burying his face in her shoulder. and for a moment, all they do is hold each other, both beaten and broken but so relieved and more grateful than anything that the other is alive (he is her other half, she realizes, and she can’t lose him again). they don’t need words to communicate (they never have) and the look of pride and adoration the katara gives aang when they pull away (hands falling down, fingers lacing together) is only further proof. (there is something there, something unspoken between them. it is a matter of love to be determined later, when the wounds of war have begun to heal.)

they don’t talk about what happened until much later, after katara has finished fussing over sokka and zuko’s injuries, after she has finished her reunion with toph and suki, after she cries tears of joy upon seeing her father. she slips into aang’s bedroom that night, the room the fire nation has granted him in the palace, and is unsurprised to find him awake. he refuses her offer to heal him (again, she is not surprised) and after a long pause she asks if he will tell her what happened to ozai. he’s alive, she knows, she saw the former fire lord brought to his knees and dragged to prison, but she does not know how, and she would like to (though if aang doesn’t want to tell, she’d never make him).

aang tells her, of course. he tells her everything (he always will, until the day he dies). there is a fifth type of bending, he whispers, older than time itself and forgotten by benders all the same. and he used it (he wonders if he ever will again) to spare ozai’s life (to save his people), though he still doubts if the former fire lord’s life was one worth saving. that’s not why you spared him, katara says, her voice gentle as ever, and she’s right. she is. she knows him better than anyone else. it’s not, he agrees, and is quiet. there is peace in silence, and comfort, too, and when katara moves next to him and slips her hand into his, he doesn’t stop her. i’m proud of you, she says without speaking, and he knows it to be true. (katara never lies.) there is still something there, something between them, something whispered, but love is a language oft spoken without words, and aang knows they will be fine.

i imagine zuko to be shocked at first, seeing the crumpled but alive (alive) figure of his not-father bound by chains and taken to prison, so shocked he falls to his knees and throws up (a curse, ozai is a curse he will never be free of). he doesn’t know he’s crying until iroh returns, until his uncle (his father) crushes him in a hug tighter than any before. zuko weeps for azula (his sister broken, he fears, beyond repair), zuko weeps for mai (locked in prison, he knows, thinking him to have never loved her), zuko weeps for himself, for his friends and family, for everyone he has ever hurt (the way ozai did him). he weeps, and he is free.

zuko doesn’t know how to ask aang about what happened, but aang doesn’t wait for him to ask (acting like an earthbender, for once, facing an issue head-on). he is waiting, a few days later (still before his coronation), sitting cross-legged on zuko’s bed, and when zuko walks in he is surprised but also not. aang is full of surprises, it’s true, but the avatar for so long was the one constant in zuko’s life. they exchange pleasantries, but the politeness is brief. and when aang tells him the truth of ozai’s fate, of taking his bending to spare his life, zuko is… conflicted. (should he not be relieved? ozai is no longer a threat, aang has both saved the world and saved his people - so why does his chest hurt so badly?) can i hug you, aang asks, and zuko allows himself to be held once again.

zuko is crowned fire lord not long after. it is only right aang be by his side, and it is only aang he would ever choose to stand with him. zuko often wonders, later, if he would kill ozai (if given the chance). for a while, he feels he would. but soon his not-father acquires a purpose. his mother is alive (alive), and ozai will lead him to her if it is the last thing the former fire lord does. he thanks aang, later, and aang cries, because nothing is more important to him than finding (repairing, restoring) what is lost (what is gone, what is destroyed). mercy, zuko realizes, is the most powerful choice of all, and as aang (sniffling, wiping his tears with his sleeve) requests a hug once more, zuko knows they will be fine.

sidenote: thank you for your concern, anon! my family and i are safe; we were east enough of Hurricane Laura that all we got was the equivalent of tropical-storm level winds/rains and a few tornado warnings (and even then we were luckily on the edge of them). there’s some mild damage in my area, but nothing compared to the devastation of Lake Charles the rest of SW LA. i am currently looking for reputable organizations to donate to; i plan to make a post about that later tonight/tomorrow or this weekend.

#i dont really know what this is but hoo boy did i enjoy writing it #aang #aanglove #kataang #katara #zuko #zukaang #kinda?? it's more platonic here #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #anon #amy writes #ozai #kataangtag #energybending #sozin's comet

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illneverrecover · 4 years

Text

is that so? (M) | jwy

➛pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader ➛genre: non idol!AU, established relationship, fluff, smut ➛word count: 5,094 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: oral sex (female receiving), food play if you squint?, marking, biting, slight roughness, praise, anal play (female receiving), butt plugs, unprotected sex, wooyoung being a loud sweet man. ➛summary: You’ve had a rough few days - hell, weeks - at work, and your new boyfriend Wooyoung knows just how to show you how much you’re appreciated. ➛notes: EEEE, My first Ateez fic! I’ve been following Ateez since debut and fell completely in love with them, so I was excited when one of my fave clowns ladies, @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife commissioned me to write a Wooyoung piece. She requested something with Wooyoung cooking for an anniversary present with smut and fluff, which fits him perfectly tbh. Love you Bri, I hope you enjoy! 🖤 ➛song: Try/Effortless - DVSN & Say My Name - Ateez

Fuck, you’re tired.

You’re always tired.

You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel exhausted, where you felt well rested by the time your alarm went off at the crack of 5 am. Work was draining you to the dregs, long hours with even longer meetings (that could have been EASILY summed up in an email) and copious hours spent hand holding grown men on how to do their jobs (but getting paid infinitely less than them.) They take their toll, and now you dread going - hell, even looking at the building could kill your mood.

The only saving grace was your amazing boyfriend.

You hadn’t been dating too long, about two months, but it was one of those things where you had an instant connection, the click of two puzzle pieces fitting just right. It had been at one of your friends house parties (the ones you normally skip due to wanting to catch up on sleep) but this time she had insisted you come, adamant that you met her boyfriend’s friend who had recently moved back into town. You had brushed her off; knowing her for as long as you had, there was a solid chance that whomever her and her long time beau, Seonghwa, were trying to set you up with was either not your type, a fuckboy, or a combination of both.

However, she had badgered you enough that you agreed to go, if only to get her off your back for the next few soirees (and to get her to lay off the dramatic gifs she had been spamming you with). Running late from work, you showed up in your business casual a few hours after it had started, the place eerily quiet as you could see silhouettes of guests mingling on the back porch. Taking advantage of not being noticed quite yet, you had decided to make yourself a strong glass of liquid courage before facing her and whatever fuckery was afoot for the evening.

You had just reached into the back of the fridge for the bottle of strawberry soju you knew was waiting for you when a voice had you jumping.

“Anything good in there?”

Whirring around, you had found a blonde man eyeing you, hair swept off his forehead to show off his glistening skin. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, his plush coral lips curved up into a sly smirk as he leaned his forearms down against the counter.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” you swallowed, raising a brow at the stranger. “I know Red always keeps a bottle of strawberry soju in her fridge for little old me, hidden in the back so Seonghwa doesn’t steal it.” You had popped open the lid, choosing to chug straight from the bottle instead of fussing with a glass. “I promise I’m not just rummaging through there.”

He had laughed then, his voice pitching higher than you had expected, and it had made you smile.

. He held his hands up in a surrender, palms out, a toothy grin on his face. “Hey, no judgment. I was about to do the same - but for food. Seongie is out there trying to grill but he’s such a perfectionist it’s taking forever, even Red is threatening to call for take out.”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Sounds about right. I’m Y/N, by the way,”

Holding out a hand, you had waited until he placed his palm in your own, giving it a firm nod.

“I’m Wooyoung, Seongie’s friend. I just moved back into town.”

Ah, so he was the mysterious unofficial blind date.

You had eyed him then, fully taking him in from head to toe, assessing him as if you’d be able to tell his character from undressing him in your mind. He had been wearing some kind of dark button down, the top buttons open to bare some of his tanned chest, a jean jacket thrown over top to keep it casual. A few black chokers circled his neck, emphasizing the muscles there, matching the wash of his inky skinny jeans that were so tight you weren’t totally convinced that they hadn’t been painted on.

His eyes had widened at your appraisal, but he hadn’t spoken a word, instead giving you another smirk while waiting for you to comment.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wooyoung.”

And it really was. From that point on, you two had been inseparable, even once rejoining the official party. Staying hip to hip, you talked about anything and everything, from the most mundane to the downright unexpected (you don’t think you have ever seen a grown man discuss Harry Potter with such wonder in his eyes), and you found yourself not wanting to go home, even as everyone else cleared out. It was only natural to accept his invitation to continue your evening, to be squeezed into a 24 hour diner booth discussing movies until the bleary hours of early morning over a plate of french fries. You just didn’t want the moment to be over, for the night to end, for the spell to dissipate.

Luckily, you had both been on the same page.

Fate had taken its course from there, and there wasn’t a day that passed that you and Wooyoung didn’t see each other, even if it was just over FaceTime as you warmed up leftovers after work. He was so attentive, so sweet, so funny, bringing back a spark into your life that you hadn’t even been aware of that was missing.

Maybe you had moved a little fast in the perception of others, but to you, it had just felt instinctive to exchange love declarations after the third week, to swap apartment keys sometime during the fifth.

Unfortunately, your work schedule has been relentless, your days still painfully long and showing no signs of stopping. Wooyoung is understanding, always offering to run your errands for you and asking how he can help make your life easier. Even when he can’t help, when the load gets too heavy to bear - he holds you, lets you rage cry out your frustration, rubs soothing circles into your back until you feel a weight lifted once more. “I’d do anything to see your smile, Jagiya,” he’d tell you with a wide grin, light in his eyes.

And he went out of his way to make that promise come true as often as possible, from little notes left on your door when you come home at night, to silly dance moves in your kitchen as a Britney Spears song blares from your Bluetooth speaker. He even made sure to make your one month anniversary special by having your favorite flowers waiting for you when you got home, your bedroom turned into the vision of comfort with blankets and pillows and a large bowl of popcorn, perfect for a movie marathon.

He was truly the perfect man, the reason you got out of bed in the morning, the inspiration to fight through the longest of shifts - and you were so thankful to have him, always hoping he could feel how much his love meant to you.

So it wasn’t a surprise when you came home to him cooking inside your apartment one Friday night after work.

You had actually gotten off work at a decent time for once, feet crossing the threshold just as the clock showed it was a quarter after 5, and you had sighed heavily with relief when the smell of sauteed garlic hit your nose. Kicking off your heels, you wandered towards the kitchen, your heart skipping a beat when you saw your boyfriend standing at the stove.

He has a bright red apron tied around his neck, a flash of words on the front though you couldn’t quite read them. Instead, you were too focused on the ingredients piled onto the counter, the slight flush in his cheeks from working over a hot stove. Candles were placed everywhere, setting the room into a soft glow, and there was a bottle of wine aerating next to twin glasses on the table, plates waiting to be filled.

He spins when he hears you, grinning at the soft look on your face. “Hey, Jagi. How was work?”

You click your tongue. “Don’t ‘how was work’ me, what’s all this for? Are you trying to spoil me?”

He moves towards you then, giving you an eyeful of his “May I suggest the sausage?” apron, complete with an arrow pointing down to his crotch, making you snort.

“First of all, how dare you. I’m always trying to spoil you.” Sliding his arms around your waist, you rest your face on his shoulder, melting into his touch. “Second of all,” he murmurs, lips pressed to your crown, “it’s our two month anniversary, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You are too good to me, Woo.”

Humming, Wooyoung sways, keeping you trapped in his arms for a beat longer before moving to plant a peck on your cheek. “No such thing as too good for you. Now, go sit down, rest, let me finish up. I’m just about finished.”

You do as ordered - moving to sit at the table, deciding to wait until after dinner to change, not wanting to take your eyes off of him. Instead you poured yourself a glass of wine, sipping it slowly as you watched him cook. It was endearing; seeing him work around the kitchen, brow furrowed in concentration when he would double check the recipe on his phone screen, tongue poking out the side of his mouth when he measured out a spice. He seemed to be taking it so seriously, making sure each step was perfect before moving to the next, which in comparison to the mess he was leaving in his wake, is amusing.

For what he lacked in skill, he makes up in confidence, wielding the knife with ease as he made the final slices to the meat, tossing them in a pan to saute. With a final stir, he adds them to the pot, gathering the sides with oven mit clad hands before sitting it down on the table.

A quick glance told you it was some kind of ramen, noodles and vegetables simmering in an aromatic liquid, steak lined on the top with some hard boiled eggs nestled next to it. Moving to the fridge, he grabs a few more bowls and side plates wrapped in plastic, bringing them to join the other dishes.

“I thought we could have my world famous ramen for dinner tonight,” he explains, tearing the plastic off to reveal the side entrees. “It’s a bit of a mashup of Korean kimchi ramen, but I also wanted you to have options on what to add to yours.”

He seems nervous, vibrating with untapped energy. Smiling, you reach out and squeeze his hand. “It’s perfect, seriously. Thank you, Wooyoung.”

Like a true gentleman, he fixes your initial bowl, walking you through all the side entree options and flavors, giving suggestions based on your preferences. Only once you are settled does he prepare his, grinning like a madman when he finally takes a seat.

Instead of tearing into the food like you expected, he stares at you, eyes dancing with mischief. Your hand hovers over the bowl, spoon suspended half way between your food and your mouth, and you raise a brow at him. “What?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing.” he leans back, placing both hands behind his head. “I just want to see the look on your face when you taste it, is all.”

“And why is that? Is there secretly an entire ball of wasabi in here or something?”

He giggles, head shaking. “No!” he protests, voice echoing off the walls. “No, I would never! How dare you!” you join his laughter, despite your spoon still being frozen, waiting for him to continue. “I just want to see your face when you taste the excellence and decadence that is Jung Wooyoung’s cooking.”

“Is that so?” you purr, cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiling you were doing. You couldn’t help it, he was just so cute.

Nodding, he slides his hands under his chin, propping his face up to look at you. “Yes, it is. Some would even liken it to a religious experience. Please,” he gestures a hand out, waving it. “Humor me.”

Without dropping his eyeline, you bring the spoon to your mouth, pursing your lips to blow a puff of air onto it before it reaches your tongue. It was the perfect blend of flavor and kick, the kimchi adding a satisfying crunch.

“So?” he prompts, practically bouncing in his seat. “What do you think?”

“I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever put into my mouth,” you sigh, already scooping your next bite.

He shouts victoriously, throwing his arms in the air. “Yes! I knew you would love it! You aren’t just saying that, are you?”

Swallowing the warm liquid, you lean forward then, grabbing his arm to leverage yourself as you plant a wet kiss to his cheek. “I’m not just saying it, Woo. It’s delicious, thank you so much for making it for me.”

His eyes crease as a wide grin takes over his face, adoration shining and mirrored within your own gaze. “Of course, Y/N. I’m glad you like it.”

The rest of the meal is shared over tales of your days, you filling him in on all the craziness of the office, while he tells you about the appointments he had and how his dance class went. It was always relieving, to come home at the end of the day and have someone to lament to, to share your life with, especially when they were so willing to do the same, and there isn’t a moment of silence as you and your boyfriend finish your dinner together.

You move to stand and clear the table, reaching for his bowl when he smacks your hand. “Absolutely not, Jagi. I am here to spoil you, and that includes cooking AND the cleaning. Sit back down.”

Giving him your best glare, you try to protest, but he isn’t having it, swift hands pushing you back into your seat as he grabs your bowl and heads to the sink. “Plus, who said the meal was over yet?” he calls over his shoulder, placing the bowls down.

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle, crossing your arms. “What else do you got for me?”

His expression changes then; previous playfulness melting away and leaving an edge to his smirk, a darkness to eyes. “Well, dessert, of course.”

You continue to eye him as he moves to the fridge, pulling out a domed container before walking it back to the table. Placing it in front of you, he removes the top with a flourish, kneeling down to your seated height. “I made your favorite,” he husks, voice low. “Peanut Butter Chocolate cheesecake.”

The cheesecake itself was beautiful; he had attempted to decorate it with some chocolate syrup and crushed Reeses, and the evident effort softens you once more. “It looks amazing!” you gush, looking to meet his gaze. “You really have gone all out, haven’t you?”

Instead of answering, he serves you a piece on a small plate, handing you a fresh fork. Grinning, you immediately cut into it, shoving a bite into your mouth inelegantly. Closing your eyes, you let out a groan at the richness of the flavor, chewing slowly to savor it. It really was delectable - the cheesecake a perfect dense yet fluffy texture, peanut butter swirling with the chocolate in harmony.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t pay attention to where Wooyoung had gone; why the room had fallen so silent as you revered your treat. You move to cut another slice off your serving, placing the fork between your teeth when you feel a palm slide up your thigh.

“W-Woo?” snapping your eyes open, you look to the side, expecting your boyfriend to still be kneeling there, but coming up empty.

Peering down, you instead see him crouched between your legs, wicked devilry glittering in his gaze. He slides both hands up your bare thighs, fingers tracing patterns right above the seam of your skirt.

Before you can say a word, he grips your legs and bows them out, making more room for his body, his mouth dipping to press a wet kiss to the flesh above your knee.

“You had such a long day. You work so hard, you’re always working so hard, Y/N. I thought it would be a nice little treat if while you enjoyed your dessert, I could also enjoy mine?” his voice was honeyed with molten lust, but it was still a question - still seeking your comfort.

Groaning, you lick your lips, breath hitching at his touch. “Of course you can,” you rasp, eyes closing once more when you feel his fingers caressing closer and closer to your core.

Dropping your fork, the cheesecake is all but forgotten when Wooyoung continues to trail his lips up your inner thighs, digits reaching for the now dewy panties at the apex, sliding them off your legs. Hand fumbling, you move to work at the side zipper of your skirt, wanting to give him more access, when thick fingers circle your wrist.

“No, Jagi. I want you to leave it on,” he murmurs, hands now moving to bunch your skirt up around your waist. “Like this, you’re so perfect like this.”

Whining, you rake your fingers through his blonde hair, tugging gently at the roots in a silent plea to have him move closer. Chuckling, he acquiesces, pupils wide as he takes in the sight of your dripping cunt.

He hovers for a moment, hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh, and just before you could beg he drops his mouth to your center. Tongue flicking out, he swirls it around your already engorged clit, tracing the lines of your labia down and back at an unhurried pace, tasting you. Repeating the movements, he groans against you, lips sliding to suckle at your bundle of nerves until your thighs were shaking against him.

He coos praise at you in between long licks against your core, his finger dipping into your wetness briefly before being pressed inside of you. “You taste so sweet, feel so good, Jagi,”

Crying out at the sensation, your hand pulls at his hair once more, wanting the friction, wanting him deeper. He gives in for a moment, tongue rolling against your clit, pulling it between his lips and suckling harshly. You feel your high building rapidly, tension rolling from your bones to deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment.

Instead of hurtling you over the edge, he pulls back with a moan, resting his head against the cushion of your thigh. He watches his finger disappear inside you one last time before pulling it out, immediately popping it into his mouth.

Wooyoung looks up at you then, lips shiny with your arousal and eyes blackened with need. “I thought I’d have the patience to finish you off like this, but I don’t. I want to be inside you, now.”

Before you can even finish nodding your head in agreement, you're pulling him to you, cupping his face and pressing your mouth onto his. The kiss is hungry, desperate, dripping in passion, his tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you feel like you’re drowning in him.

He pulls away enough to trail small kisses down your jaw line, your pulse, until he laves the tender skin at the base of your throat, making you whine. As he sucks and bites his claim onto your neck, you feel his arms grab your legs, guiding you to lock them around his waist before he’s shifting you up into his hold.

The low growls he makes while working over your throat have you distracted, arms coming to brace yourself around his neck as he carries you towards the bedroom. You’re gasping into his mouth when he spins to push you against the wall, pinning you in place under the lithe lines of his body. Throwing your head back, your fingers come to tangle in the hair at the base of his skull, hips grinding against him.

“Fuck, Wooyoung,” you pant as he alters his attack to the other side of your clavicle, insistent on leaving twin marks to claim you. His anguished desire excites you, has you clenching around nothing when he returns to peck at your lips.

He ruts up against you, and for a moment you think he’ll take you right here against your bedroom wall - not that you would mind - but then he slows his hips, releasing his tight grip on your legs as he pulls you towards the bed.

It's there that he undresses you completely, kissing each inch of bare skin as it’s revealed to him, murmuring words of love until you are naked and flushing before him. Sitting up on his knees, he quickly joins you - pulling his shirt off and throwing it haphazardly, kicking off his jeans and boxer briefs.

He stares at you reverently, eyes and hands always roaming the lines of your form. “I have another surprise for you tonight, if you’re up to it,” he husks, lips quirking into a grin.

“Is that so?” you repeat your words from earlier, unable to stop yourself. He chuckles lowly, leaning over you to open the drawer on the bedside table where typically you house your small collection of sex toys. You follow the movement, curious to see what would grab, but your eyes widen when you see him holding something you weren’t familiar with.

It was stainless steel, bulbed at one end before tapering out and flaring into a large circle at the base. The base had a beautiful violet jewel in it that twinkled when the light hit; a small bottle of lubricant nestled beside it in his large palm.

He had bought you a butt plug.

Seeing your expression, Wooyoung chuckles nervously, dropping the items onto the bed in order to hover over you. “I know we’ve discussed trying this in the past, and just thought that after the time we used my fingers, that this might be a good next step…” he trails off, eyes imploring yours. “However, if you don’t want to or don’t feel comfortable, that’s perfectly fine, Jagi. I don’t want to pressure you at all.”

Excitement tore through your nerves, your body lighting up at the idea of doing this with him. He was so thoughtful, so sweet, and you knew in that moment that you trusted him explicitly.

“I want to,” you purr, leaning up to bite at his collarbone. “I want to try this, with you…”

His face illuminates with a smile as he moves to sit up on his knees once more, grabbing the plug. “I want to try this with you too.”

Ignoring the lube for now, he closes the plug in his fist as he moves to lay down between your legs. For a while, he just kisses you everywhere, lets his fingers drag through the slick of your slit, gently rubbing at your nub until you are panting and relaxing against his touch. When your eyes start to close, he grabs for the bottle of lubricant, squeezing a generous amount onto the plug before doing the same against your tight ring of muscles.

Jumping at the sensation of cool gel against heated skin, you take a deep breath, letting yourself get lost in the sensations he was providing you. A thumb was still rolling your clit, while another finger was gently massaging the puckered skin of your ass. Your body felt like wildfire, molten and burning too hot, and yet all you wanted was more.

“I-I think I’m ready, Woo, please,” you whine, hands fisting in the sheets. “Please put it in.”

He groans, fingers stuttering at the wanton sound of your cries. He wanted to drag this out, to tease you until you were blubbering and begging, but between his throbbing cock and your sinful noises, he didn’t think he could wait any more.

Slowly, he starts to push the bulbous end of the plug against you, thumb of his free hand still working against your bundle of nerves. You tense when you feel some pressure, but Wooyoung is there to talk you through it, guiding you to breathe and relax as he takes care of you, edging the plug in.

You sense when it’s pushed in to the hilt, the jeweled edge nestled against your rim, and you sigh in relief at the pleasant buzz of the stretch.

Wooyoung slides to sit up on his knees, a hand coming to smooth circles on the flesh of your inner thigh, while the other palms at his hardened length.

“How does it feel, Jagi? You feel okay?” he breathes, slotting himself between your legs and closer to your center.

You nod, reaching out to grasp at his hips. “I feel so good, baby,” you praise, guiding him until his cock was dragging against your dripping cunt. “Now I just need you inside of me too, please,”

He hisses at your words, pressing the thick head of his length until it was slipping inside the welcoming heat of your walls, slowly moving to bury himself deep inside of you.

The fullness was overwhelming, delicious, his pelvis resting flush against your own. His brow was furrowed, mouth agape in a silent moan as he started to swivel his hips.

“F-Fuck,” you groan, nails dragging down the skin at his sides as he began to pump in and out of you, slowly at first, as if he wanted to make sure you were feeling every inch of him against your engorged walls. The plug was the perfect size to enhance each movement, the dual sensations making you mewl.

“Does it feel good?” he husks, voice impossibly deep as his thrusts increase. “Does Jagi like being so full of me? Likes having that little plug in her ass?”

Whining at his words, you chew at your lip, hands reaching out to tug him closer to your mouth. “Yes, I do, Wooyoung. Just for you, all for you.”

He growls then, hips moving at a punishing pace, basking in your sweet cries of his name, wanting to make sure you were fully wrecked and falling apart for him. He could feel you squeezing against him, so impossibly tight, and knew you were close to unraveling.

Dropping his lips to yours, he licked into your mouth, swallowing your moans as he slid a hand between your bodies to rub at your apex once more.

You broke the kiss to sob, head thrown back against the mattress. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” your orgasm so close you felt your cunt pulsating, your vision going white. After a few more pumps of his cock and probing circles of your clit, you finally come undone, walls constricting as electricity shoots through your veins, gasps tearing from your throat.

Wooyoung doesn’t last much longer, burying his face in your neck as he finally releases deep inside you with staccato thrusts, only stopping when he was sure every drop was nestled into your tender core.

Catching your breath, you lay for a few soundless moments, fingers tracing patterns on his back while he steadily came down from his high. When he finally moves to get cleaned up, he insists you stay put - instead bringing a wet washcloth and removing the plug for you, wiping you clean.

“Happy Anniversary,” he quips, slapping playfully at your ass, and you can’t help but laugh along, rolling your eyes at him.

After a quick trip to the bathroom you’re back in bed - and his arms - snuggled against his chest, eyes closed in contentment. Wooyoung is so tender, asking every few moments how you felt, if you needed anything. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were luckier than you ever thought was possible, and you told him so.

“What do you mean, Y/N? I’m the lucky one here. You are so beautiful and smart and successful, and you let me be in your life, let me support you. It’s all I could ever want.” he murmurs, eyes intense as he presses a kiss to your nose. “Plus, you laugh at all my jokes, eat my cooking, and are willing to try new things in the bedroom. You’re basically my dream girl.”

You laugh then, slapping at his arm. “Well, that’s good to know, and right back atcha.”

“What? I’m your dream girl?”

Giggling, you snuggle closer to his chest once more. “Yes. You’re my dream girl and I’m so glad I get to be in your life.” Leaning up, you meet his eyes. “I love you, Wooyoung.”

The responding smile is so bright you think it may blind you, but his joy was infectious as he whoops loudly. “I love you too, Y/N. So much.”

For a moment, there was nothing but peaceful calm, twin hearts beating rapidly as you let him lead you in a chaste kiss, pulling away to rest your forehead against his own.

“Even if your dirty talk could use some work, I love you and I’m still glad to be here-”

“HEY!” he yells, pushing back to look at you, face incredulous. “What do you mean my dirty talk could use some work?! My dirty talk is perfect!”

You shrug, a sly smirk on your face. “Is that so?”

Scoffing, he tries to slide out of your grasp, pout heavy on his lips. “Yes, that is so! What, was I supposed to call you ‘my greedy little ass slut’ right out of the gate? I mean, I knew you were a freak, Jagi, but I was trying to be a gentleman.”

Choking back your laughter, you lock your arms around him, bringing him back against you until you are spooning him tightly, cooing apologies in his ear. It took several minutes of cuddles and reassurance before he would turn to look at you again, his gaze still hard.

Grinning, you cup his face, your finger resting against the plush fullness of his lower lip. “Oh yeah? And what if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”

“Then I guess we’ll have to go for round two.” he growls, before claiming your lips once more.

#wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ksmutclub #wooyoung scenario #ateez scenario #domestic AU #ateez fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung #ateez #thiccaswonhoruinedmylife #commission #my writing #fic: is that so?#fic: its?

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ashkazora · 4 years

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2020 Fic Roundup

Stats:

Fics Posted (Total): 13

In chronological order: Cold Floors and Warm Hearts - a fluffy shance fic about the three times Shiro accidentally wakes up in Lance’s room. Exchange fic. 3,441 words.

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You - a small klance fillet based on the US tv show, The Blacklist. 639 words.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) - a Lance-centric gen fic exploring his relationship with the Blue Lion, and her control over him. 15,618 words.

Coffee Grinds and Morse Code - a post-s8, Shance fic written for the valentines shance exchange! 3,593 words.

Nectar and Ambrosia - my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for the square ‘denied food as punishment.’ Lance whump. 2,641 words.

there ain't no rest for the wicked - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for ‘big brother instincts,’ but this time with Plance and Lance whump. 3,508 words.

Of Claws and Steel - a science-fiction, super sentai cat armour AU entered around the Lions as futuristic mecha armour. Most underrated fic here. 14,344 words.

Hairline Fractures - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, ‘bleeding through bandages.’ Lance whump (again). 5,059 words.

Leverage - last Bad Things Happen Bingo fill for the year, for the prompt ‘on a leash.’ Featuring Shance, and Lance and Shiro whump. 7,743 words.

Lay It Down To Save It - Leakira Klance AU written for Leakira week. Made in collaboration with @crapoftheworldblr! 18,102 words.

to the stars and back - The Dragon Prince Plance AU with Prince!Lance and Elf!Pidge. In collaboration with @rosieclark! 36,574 words.

Sweeter Than Honey - written for the Blue Moon Lance zine! Features BAMF!Lance as the honeypot on a mission. 4,098 words.

In The Closet - Klance fic for the winner of my fic giveaway. Fluffy, and definitely a bit saucy. 2,363 words.

Fics Posted (Gen): 5

the water was dark (and it went down forever) Nectar and Ambrosia Of Claws and Steel Hairline Fractures Sweeter Than Honey

Plance: 2

there ain't no rest for the wicked to the stars and back

Shance: 3

Cold Floors and Warm Hearts Coffee Grinds and Morse Code Leverage

Klance: 3

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You Lay It Down To Save It In The Closet

Collaborations: 2

Lay It Down To Save It to the stars and back

Ship/Character breakdown:

Ship breakdown:

This year, the biggest ship I wrote for was Shance (3 fics), with Plance (2) and Klance (2.5) coming in from behind. The k/l ficlet doesn’t count as a full fic.

Character breakdown:

Of the 13 fics, Lance is in the most with 13 (insert surprised pikachu face here), then it goes Shiro (12), Keith (10), Pidge (8), Hunk (7), Allura (6) and Matt Holt (2). Other characters appear only once, such as Coran, Haggar and Kolivan. Technically, the Blue Lion clocks in at 2 mentions.

Characters that had the main focus:

Lance had the sole POV for 7 of those fics, and shared POVs (in a collaboration) iin 2 additional fics. Shiro had the second most POVs at a total of 3, while Keith had 1 sole POV and 1 shared POV, and Pidge with one shared POV.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: the water was dark (and it went down forever), but honestly so many other fics has titles I liked. This title was based off of the Tim Winton short story by the name name, The Water Was Dark And It Went Down Forever, where the main character swims and debatably drowns. So it’s fairly fitting.

Runners up titles include Sweeter Than Honey, to the stars and back, and Lay It Down To Save It.

Worst title: Hairline Fractures. It’s dumb and it makes no sense. It was the first thing that came to mind.

An honourable mention includes Leverage, which would be first if not for the fact that the title inspired the ending, so it’s not too bad.

Best/worst last line?

Best: From the water was dark (and it went down forever):

Blue’s grasp on him was like an endless expanse; an opulent and brilliant ocean. Her waters were dark, and it went down forever.

This was definitely my favourite, even though it’s pretty cringe. The way it was formatted in ao3 and the way it related to the title plus the reoccurring symbolism of water made it pretty neat!

Worst: From there ain't no rest for the wicked:

Pidge laughed, and turned her back from the darkness.

I’m sorry. This ending was so cringey. I hate it. There’s nothing else to say except I have no idea how to fix it. Oof.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

tbh, I wrote a lot more, considering I had my final exams this year. Breaching 100k was crazy.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Honestly? Klance. I’m not the biggest fan of the ship but writing it is very interesting, and I enjoyed it.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Of Claws and Steel hands down! It’s the first fic idea I ever had for VLD, and the one I really love the most. One day I’d love to write a continuation of it, but the reception of the fic wasn’t great so idk.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) even though it was started in 2019, was finished this year and is my most popular fic of all time! It’s got 4k+ hits and 450+ kudos. Crazy, since it was only supposed to be a dumb little warm up fic to get me back into writing in preparation for Of Claws and Steel. Alas, turns out people really liked it!

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Of Claws and Steel. It was the fic I worked the hardest on this year but got the least amount of attention :)

Story that could have been better?

Easily there ain't no rest for the wicked. There was so much plot and so many things I wanted to include but didn't. There’s a lot of things missing and bad plot flow. One day if I got more time, I’d love to write more on it.

Sexiest story?

In The Closet, hands down. It gets a bit steamy with a k/l makeout session. Originally it was going to be a lot saucier but I wasn’t too comfortable in my ability to write it well ahaha.

Saddest story?

None of my stories were sad, per se. Most of the sad ones were more scary/foreboding rather than actually being sad. I guess to the stars and back right now, because it’s dealing with Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s desperation to find her brother (and a lot of other things, which will be revealed in the future!)

Most fun?

Sweeter Than Honey! It was fun to write and is my most fun fic. BAMF!Lance and his witty commentary is always a great laugh.

Story with single sweetest moment?

I can’t choose :,). It’s a three-way tie between Cold Floors and Warm Hearts’s last scene where Shiro realises Lance bought him the necklace, Lay It Down To Save It’s scene that I can’t say because it’s technically unpublished ;), and to the stars and back’s scene where Lance and Pidge talk about what they would like to be in life (ch3).

Hardest story to write?

Probably Of Claws and Steel, as I completely stagnated on the story for a long time. It took me 8 months to write it. Without Rue’s help, I probably would have taken so much longer. Runners up is Leverage, as it took me like a solid week to write 90% of it, and 3 more months to write the remaining 10%. For some reason, parts of that fic were such a pain to write.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was definitely to the stars and back. I could relate to a lot of Lance’s actions and thoughts in the fic, so writing his POV was super easy and rather cathartic ngl. However the most fun was probably Sweeter Than Honey, as it was super self indulgent ahaha.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Lay It Down To Save It changed my perception of Keith. I don’t particularly like Keith in canon, but I’ve warmed up to his fanon self and general character after writing from his POV.

Most overdue story?

Of Claws and Steel easily! It was the first VLD fic idea I had but took 8 months to write. Oops?

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

For the first time I incorporated HTML coding into my fics, which taught me a lot about coding and different ways to convey certain messages and detail things. These codings altered fonts and colours, which you can see in

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Write my tua/vld au fic, which will be my first solo multi chapter fic, and hopefully finish it by the end of next year. Also, sticking to a consistent writing schedule and try to write at least 100 words a day, plus finishing TSSAB. I’d also like to finish some more BTHB prompts!

That’s all, folks! Thank you all for sticking with my writing! Hopefully 2021 brings even more writing, fun times, and great fics. Happy New Years (in 24 hours), everyone!

#ashka writes #fic roundup #2020 fic roundup #MASSIVE shoutout to rue for giving me these questions #if you've read ocas ur officially my favourite person #ao3

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onereallygoodlambonastick · 4 years

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1, 2, 7, 8, 9 and 10 please

finally some good fucking food, thanks anon;

1. What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

Generally speaking, I think the in-betweens, the casual time-skips, and the quick intermissions are the things that get glossed over the most. The “missing scenes”, if you will--the hours after a squabble between a team, the morning before the battle, the months where a child sat idle, the dreams that turned into prophecy.

I also think the theme of re-connection is not often explored--its always “love on first sight” kind of deal, but what about the enduring kind of love, the kind that stays like an ache in your bones? the one you remember and miss? the one you long for like a phantom limb?

2. What are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? What would you avoid writing about?

This varies wildly between fandoms, but probably the thing they all have in common is: mindless smut. Just straight up down and dirty fucking, with no motive or prompting or characterization. Just the author smashing two guys (usually) at the hips and being done with it.

That’s fine; we all love to see it. It’s just so dull sometimes.

I need some intricacy, some intimacy, some ache, some angst, some destructive lines and some ruthless gut-punches, you know? Not a guy coming for the fifth time.

For the AFTG fandom: I’m tired of seeing people being fine with the way Sakavic treated her characters and coddling Neil & Andrew in the face of it. I don’t hate Andreil, I feel like I should say, but so much of it relies on one or the other sticking people with their knives or fists and that’s such a toxic love, a misconception of what a “good” relationship should be. Now, there are some brilliant fics I’ve read that are just gorgeous with the concept of Andreil--that was what I wished Sakavic had the ability to achieve in her series, while giving dignity to Kevin Day and the rest of the characters that were there and LIVED despite the romance.

So, obviously, I would avoid doing any of the above I just mentioned, and pray that you will too. Just let these ppl breathe, alright?

For the AoT fandom (yeah i dabbled cuz the manga is just. depressing man): same issue---too much fucking, not enough talking and emoting. Why are there so many goddamned high school AUs? My god. I need a fic that gets down and dirty with the shit going down in the manga and take me through it so I can stand to continue. What about the grief and mourning and the betrayal of it all? Can I get me some of that? Lord, don’t go near the Levi/Eren tag. Y’all just don’t even knock it. Go to Levi/Erwin or something. Or just don’t. Don’t.

For the BNHA fandom (lol. a staple): actually, there’s quite a bit of diversity here so I geniunely can’t complain about much. The sheer magnitude of the English-speaking fandom helps on that end, I suppose. I do think there should be more fics looking at the Shit n Grit of Hero’s society tho, Stain-style. The people the heroes couldn’t save or didn’t want to, the forgotten bodies and the cooling hands, the victims that never got closure, the heroes who got maimed and multilated and couldn’t get back on their feet once the limelight left em. Those sorts of things. I think the fact we see thru the rosy-eyed worldviews of a bunch of green-eared kids deludes people to the fact that People Are Fucking Bad and Disgusting almost all the time. So exploring that, I think, is far more worthwhile.

But I will also take injury aftermath. I’m not a monster.

For the KNY fandom: EYYY we talk about grief and suffering a lot which if you haven’t noticed, is kind of my Jam! Actually, this fandom prob hits a lot of my sweet spots: role reversals, grief/mourning aftermath, SabiGiyuu, Sabito Lives, the usual! Can’t really say much abt this. Except, there’s a lot of Demon Sex and Rape and, uh. Guys? Can we go back for a hot sec?

For the Code Geass fandom (*rubs hands in glee*): SO this is the fandom I’m most active in aside from AFTG at this precise moment. It’s pretty dead, tbh. My favorite two fics in the AO3 archive was published in 2014 and the author hasn’t written for my fav pairing (Suzaku/Lelouch) since. So. There’s that. There’s also a lot of fucking here! And gross cishet dynamics, but, uh, whatever. I think the Emperor Lelouch/Knight of Zero Suzaku has been overused and abused for rough sex and just general Angst-ing it out. I wanna see how their dynamic plays out like that for sure, but what about when they still had secrets between them a mile wide and had to tell each other half-lies and half-truths? How about them coping with the fact of their betrayals and the death of their loved ones at the hands of each other? Where’s the hardcore shit?

Think this fandom doesn’t want to dig their fingers in too deep. Shame.

Another thing: CC is not an immortal seductress. My god give her pizza and some fucking DEPTH. She’s a walking encyclopedia, not some mysterious slut machine! Get your stereotypes and fetishes outta here!

Final thing: TALK ABOUT THE SHIT SUZAKU HAS BEEN THROUGH! He’s not just Lelouch’s boytoy or knight! Stop that! Examine his abuse, his time with the military, his span as a pawn! Look at his motivations and his internalized disgust for himself as a Japanese that was ingrained in him by an oppressive fucking system! Why does he bow? Why is he silent? Speak for him!

7. Favorite description in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)

Suzaku watched him watch the discoloring, and Suzaku watched the stillness change into the bare bones of animosity. It was almost kind, the way Lelouch turned his face away and shifted his grip to snatch up the antiseptic.

Neither of them spoke as sharp hands dabbed at the slightly split skin and wet bruising. It stung, but only a little. Long minutes passed like this, Lelouch exchanging swabs for cloths, Suzaku sitting still and watching him work.

Neither of them mentioned the scatter of old deadened skin, puckered across Suzaku’s build like a migration of mutilated fish.

8. Favorite dialogue in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)

"You know I can't be seen with you two."

"And I just warned you to not be a coward." Lelouch's eyes gleamed. Again, the challenge was there, and like a fool only Lellouch could make of him, Suzaku took it, open-mouthed and open-palmed.

"Fine," Suzaku said, not knowing what he'd promised himself to: a dinner or a duel. Even though the last time Lelouch picked up a sword it was wooden and he was tiny and cute and clumsy. But Lelouch didn’t need blades to cut. "I'll be there. Does Nunnally still enjoy a good scone?"

"Bring the blueberry ones," Lelouch said, extending the comment like a plank between them, and leapt off the wall, into the white sun. "One for the bastardly son and one for the disowned daughter."

Suzaku followed him out into the blaze of heat, feeling the crude perch of his laughter at the base of his throat. He was so fucking dramatic. "Which one of us do you mean?"

9. What scene was the hardest to write for you and why?

From the same wip fic from above--I’m stuck on the “light” kind-of crackish scene where Suzaku is literally just exasperated with Rivalz and his porn mags. Like I just can’t write it. It’s too.....friendly. And “nice”.

10. What scene was the most fun to write for you and why?

Out of the same fic as above: probably the scene from #8. It was fun to see how coy and rough-mouthed Suzaku could get once he’s together with Lelouch. Just to see them fool around with each other whilst keeping secrets but also somehow be honest was very satisfying and interesting to write out. They are just boys, there. Just boys. In love.

#aftg #all for the game #code geass #suzalulu #bnha #aot #kny #my writing #my fic #soy replies #asks

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max--phillips · 4 years

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As much as I love Whiskey’s other outfits, there’s something about his last outfit that hits differently. I feel like they could’ve just either made him a good guy outright (and written out Tequila tbh) or made his evilness more prominent (maybe make him a double agent), but that twist and it’s 2(?) hints just weaksauce

And that’s the tea

Alright y’all wanna know how I’d fix this movie? Here’s how I’d fix this movie

Step one, and a controversial one at that: actually kill off Harry or make him actually unrecoverable. I know, I know, ouch, but stick with me

The whole point to Whiskey’s character was supposed to be to... basically replace Harry’s mentor figure. He had a lot of fuckin’ potential to actually do that, imo. Let him do that.

Step two, keep Tequila and keep Whiskey’s backstory. Don’t make that tone of expression at me, just trust me

Step three, reveal what the goddamn problem was between Ginger and Whiskey. Does Jack have feelings for her? Does she remind him of his wife for some reason? Did they have a conflict at some point? A rivalry? Did they date and have a bad breakup? Just tell me what their beef is.

Step four, Tequila does his business and Jack is actually conflicted because that’s his fellow agent and, dare I suggest, possibly a friend, and now he’s not so sure he wants to kill every drug user on the planet.

Step five, everything proceeds as normal from Glastonbury on through Italy until that fight scene; something still happens to the antidote, Eggsy is the one who has doubts, but. not enough to shoot Whiskey

Step six, Eggsy, Whiskey, and Merlin head to Cambodia. Eggsy actually expresses his doubts to Whiskey, Whiskey goes on the defensive. Eggsy isn’t convinced but lets it slide for now.

Bonus: Merlin is fine. We can save Merlin. As a treat.

Step seven, instead of a big fight scene between Eggsy and Merlin and Whiskey, we get a Heart To Heart Moment(tm) and maybe Eggsy ultimately persuades Whiskey by telling him that his girlfriend, who he’s planning on marrying, is currently paralyzed and it’s a whole thing and Whiskey feels that and is like “ok. ok maybe I’m wrong” (obviously there’d be more to that exchange but just. for times sake, since I’m supposed to be finishing the next chapter of this fic skdljfg)

Step eight, antidote is dispersed, everyone goes back to Statesman, Whiskey apologizes for being an asshole to Ginger and almost deciding to kill Tequila, Ginger is the one who goes to England w/ the Kingsman as an actual field agent.

And that’s how I’d fix Agent Whiskey in Kingsman: The Golden Circle

#there are a host of other problems w this movie #like why on earth did they kill roxy and all the other kingsman for no reason so fast?#anyway #tori answers questions #whiskey #pedro pascal #wheresthewater #the golden circle #save tag

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knightofameris · 4 years

Text

an outstanding performance — marvel (stark!reader)

Setting: an AU where Peter never quit band and Michelle, Flash, and others are also in band, platonic fic!!! Gender: Neutral! Contains: fluff Word Count: 3.7k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HOLY SHIT)

Summary: Being Tony’s kid meant everyone expected you to be some prodigy in some way. And you were—a musical prodigy at least. The last year of marching band was approaching and you’re definitely gonna be heartbroken. But as long as you had Peter, Ned, and MJ by your side it’ll all be okay

a/n: I wanted to pump something out since I haven’t posted and I’ve always wanted to write something with Peter in band because I WAS A BAND KID IN HIGH SCHOOL. So. It’s also not my best work but I had fun because i reALLY MISS BAND. AND THIS IS JUST A COMFORT FIC FOR ME TBH LMAO [repost from my old account @knightofmarvel]

There’s a lot of band terms that I don’t think people will understand unless you were a band kid so here’s a little… mini explanation. This is what I used for my band by the way.

Sound off = just be louder I guess? Met = metronome The box = the area in the stadium where the announcer is always in Trumpet, mellophone, baritone/euphonium, tuba = brass instruments Flute, clarinet, alto sax, tenor sax, bari sax, bass clarinet = woodwind instruments Percussion = anything you can hit with a stick basically (including piano because piano keys control something that hits the string) Guard/color guard = the people who spin flags, sabers, and rifles. They also toss it in the air and do other crazy shit (deadass, guard people were so badass i dont get why people called them discount cheerleaders when guard works just has hard, if not harder. like u try tossing a fucking rifle up in the air. this girl legitimately went an entire show after splitting her brow causing her to bleed horribly and finished smiling soooo) Drum majors = people who conduct and is also basically in charge of the entire band Reps = doing something over and over, usually a certain exercise in music or marching technique or a certain part(s) of the show Set = Can mean multiple things, either a certain part of the show or getting ready for the rep they’re about to do (usually shown by holding the instrument up in “set” position) Stand-by = relaxed but still in attention Holding at pistol/rifle = more relaxed but usually saved in show or when instructors/whoever tells stories. Different instruments have different positions thus the pistol/rifle Horns up = instrument in mouth Horns down = instrument not in mouth, same position as Set.

Let me know if there are any mistakes! **no beta, we die like men

Enjoy!

“Senior year boyyysssssssss!” You screamed once you entered campus that warm summer morning. Ned and Peter turned around to see you running towards them, about to tackle them. Other band leaders, and especially the senior drum majors, cheered with you.

Ned and Peter, however, did not.

Instead, their eyes widened in fear and they raised their arms up, telling you to not jump at them. But alas, it was too late and you tackled them to the ground.

“Dog pile!” Someone, Adam (one of the drum majors) probably, shouted. And one by one, a group of your fellow bandmates fell on top of you. Each one of them caused you to let out a breath. Peter and Ned taking the brute of it.

“Alright alright, you idiots,” your band directed teased. You all looked up to see Mrs. Ha standing there with her hands on her hips. “Get up, you guys are scaring the freshmen.” She glanced over to the bandroom door where tiny heads were sticking out.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, everyone starting to stand up off of each other. You raised both of your hands down for Peter and Ned, they both took it and you helped them up.

“Damn, (Y/n), why’d you have to do that?” Ned asked. He then reached down for his hat. Something that was mandatory for all band members to wear during practice. Especially during band camp in the summer.

“It’s tradition!” You cheered, wrapping your arm around each of their neck. “Can you guys believe it? We’re seniors.”

“Yeah, and you’re woodwind captain man,” Peter nudged you in the side.

You grinned and then walked in front of them to grab your backpack, clarinet case, and water jug. You turned around once they were all in hand. “Yeah, but at least I got my two trusty section leaders to lead with me.”

“What about me?”

The three of you turned around to see MJ with her hand on her hip. She had a slight smirk on her face.

“Uh,” you started to say, “to be fair, you’re in the brass section.”

“You could have switched,” MJ retorted, walking up to you and lightly punching you in the shoulder.

And you could have. Afterall, you were a musical prodigy. Especially considering the fact that you were the kid of Tony Stark. You didn’t have much of a knack for STEM, decent at it but only when you put in the extra work to the point of stress. But you had a knack for music.

Your dad noticed your gravitation towards music when you were a toddler and when you didn’t enjoy being in the lab as much as he thought you would have been, as a Stark. But you enjoyed music so he signed you up for piano classes. Then you wanted to learn more instruments and made your way through the wind instruments and then more percussion instruments. From flute to clarinet to alto saxophone, from trumpet to french horn, to, of course, piano and the drumset. You had a lot of range. The clarinet being your favorite instrument to play.

You narrowed your eyes at MJ, “But then you wouldn’t have been brass captain. And do you think I can leave the woodwinds to be left in charge by these losers?” You pointed to Peter and Ned.

“Hey!” They both protested.

“Guys! Roll call is soon and they’re introducing all the leaders to the entire band,” Adam said, holding the metronome in his hand.

“Yeah, got it,” You and Michelle said, both with a slight authoritative tone in your guys’ voice. You both exchanged glances with a raised brow.

“Wow, the captain in you guys is really coming out,” Peter teased. You both rolled your eyes. You went to go walk beside Michelle. On the way into the bandroom.

“Oh man, I just hope I don’t accidentally make a freshman pee their pants this year.” You walked straight into the bandroom and Peter laughed, remembering that clearly last year when you were section leader.

“I just don’t want to do running block,” Ned complained, trudging behind you. “I hate band camp.”

“Ditto,” MJ remarked. Peter shot her a look.

“Shouldn’t you be hyping it up, for the freshmen?”

MJ shrugged, “Yeah, but I can complain to you guys.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“Sound off guys!” You shouted as the band did reps across the field in across-the-floors. In a moment, the voices of the members got louder, counting in time with the met. You looked around yourself, making sure there were no members dicking around too much. With it being so far into the marching season already, you didn’t want any of them to dick around so much where they’d regret it if your guys’ band didn’t perform to the best of your ability at your last competitions.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he prepped to step off on the other side. He stuck his tongue out then faced forward with his clarinet in hand. His mouth moving with his voice being just loud enough to be heard as he began to count off. He was the backline with three other freshmen near him who didn’t count at all. All three of them clarinets as well.

You called out their names, telling them to sound off until one of the visual instructors cut the metronome. Peter continued, trying to keep time without it loud enough for the freshmen to stay with him.

“Alright, stop!” The instructor, Alicia, shouted. Peter stopped, relaxing his arms and putting his clarinet in his hand with standby. The entire band stared at him in silence, waiting for what he had to say. “We have three more competitions to go. One more football game. And then we have Grand Nationals. We’ve been doing this since June. It’s October! I’m doing all I can to push you guys, it doesn’t matter if you’re a freshman anymore. You’ve been in this program so you know what we expect. In the end, it’s up to all of you guys how bad you want it. Do you guys want to make finals?”

A chorus of yeah’s came from the students. Something caught your eye as the instructor continued to talk. Flash was dicking around, mocking the instructor and when the instructor was quiet you called him out.

“Hey Flash, why don’t you run a lap?” You asked. Lucky you, he was an alto saxophone, so completely in your control.

“Wh-What? Why? I didn’t do anything,” Flash argued. You raised a brow.

“Oh really? So you weren’t even listening to Alicia as she was talking?” You retorted. “You said you weren’t doing anything right? I guess that’s still a lap.” Someone next to him nudged him, telling him not to argue and he groaned.

He walked off to the side, setting his instrument down.

“Next time, don’t mock her when she’s trying to help us. Especially since you’re the only senior who doesn’t sound off.” Flash glared at you while you kept a smirk on your face.

He murmured, “Fucking Stark.” Then went off into the run. That’ll earn him a talk after practice.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” Alicia said, shooting you a smile. You gave her a nod

Percussion and color guard began walking into the stadium and prepped to practice with the rest of the band.

“Alright, I’ll cut this rep short, go grab a gush and wait for instructions,” Alicia ordered. The teenagers began to run off the field and towards their water jugs were with their own section.

“I don’t get why Flash is even more annoying,” Peter muttered. You and Peter watched Flash continue to run around the track as you drank water from your jug.

“It’s probably because he didn’t get any leadership position,” Cindy suggested. She stood next to you two, also a clarinet section leader.

“Yeah, well, Ned deserved the alto sax position,” you said. “Not Flash, he’s an asshole.” The other two nodded their heads.

A high pitched whining noise came from the box and everyone flinched and groaned, staring up at it.

“Oh, sorry guys,” the band director, Mrs. Ha, said. “Hornline captains, lead the warm up for your section. Mr. C and I won’t have enough time this practice.”

You turned to face your section, calling out to them and raising your instrument in the air. You led them to wear the respective drum major that conducted for the woodwinds for warm up stood on her podium. Everyone was wetting their reeds in their mouth, save for the flute players who stood in arc warming up their instrument. The reed players began placing their reeds on their mouth pieces, then also warming it up a bit. You walked around, talking to a few of the leaders here and there. Then walking up to one of the seniors in the clarinet section and making them center while also handing them a tuner for later.

With a wave of your hand and your fist closing, everyone stopped playing.

“Stand-by,” you called out. Each member stopped fidgeting and their ears looked to you attentively. “Set!”

In a ripple effect from the edge of the arc to the center, everyone brought their horns up. You smirked. “Nice job guys, we’ve come a long way since freshman band camp. Same warm up, make sure to watch the hands.” You pointed up to the drum major, Kay, who stood on top of the podium.

“Stand-by,” she called out once more. “Doing the woodwind warm up and make sure to watch my hands. Set!”

The rest of practice went by smoothly. The drum majors standing on the podium, instructors up in the box telling instructions through a mic for the head drum major to repeat. The entire band doing what was told. Parents sat in the stands watching their kids practice.

You could have sworn you saw your dad and a few others in the stands that practice. But you paid it no mind, he’d usually come to competitions but he had never gone to a practice.

So when practice was over and the band was dismissed, you, Peter, Ned, and MJ began to set back to the bandroom after all the underclassmen cleared out from the stadium. And after you gave Flash another stern talking about attitude and disrespecting instructors and leaders. Which led to him running a lap and then doing push-ups.

You and MJ were pushing the huge water jugs back as well, all of your stuff riding on the bottom of the cart with MJ’s. All four of you were joking around when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey kid!”

You jolted, turning around to see your dad standing there with Morgan on his shoulders. Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Natasha stood next to him, all of them with a smile on their face.

“Dad!” You called out, letting go of the cart and running up to him. Tony quickly set Morgan down and you hugged him. He let out an ‘oof’ on impact but hugged you back. “You’ve never came to practice before!”

“Well, I thought I should,” Tony said, kissing the top of your head. “You stink.” You tore away from him, laughing when you noticed his scrunched up face.

“Yeah, my hat’s kinda gross from practice.”

You turned to face Morgan and picked her up, setting her on your hip. You looked at the others, “Why are you guys here.”

“Got bored,” Rhodey answered. “Then thought, we might as well see what the musical Stark was up to.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re so cool, (Y/n)!” Morgan hugged you around your neck. “But scary. Just like mommy!” Your dad and you chortled with laughter and Pepper shook her head, grabbing her out of your arms.

“Yeah, you yelled at that kid for a good ten minutes,” Nat said. “Good job.”

“I’m surprised,” Steve spoke up. “I didn’t realize marching band was modeled after the military bands until Rhodey told me.”

“Yeah, you never came to one of my shows,” you playfully glared at him. But you began laughing and hit him lightly. “I’m kidding, you guys are always busy. But-” you looked at them, hopeful “-my last football game is this Friday. Then three more local competitions until Grand Nats in Indiana.”

The adults exchanged glances with each other.

“Well, you know Pep and I will be at Grand Nats,” Tony said, ruffling your hair.

“And me!” Morgan added.

“And Morgan,” Tony laughed.

“We’ll… Try.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s cool,” you replied nonchalantly. “You guys are Avengers, other priorities.”

“Not to interrupt, but your friend looks like she’s struggling with the jugs.” Rhodey pointed behind you, and you saw MJ trying to push the jugs over a whole in the ground. Peter and Ned stood there, laughing at her. Your eyes widened and you bolted over to her after passing Morgan to your dad.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

***

The band sat in the stands, playing pep tunes whenever they were supposed to while the football game went on. You, of course, were dicking around with Peter and Ned. Ned sat behind you with his section and you sat beside Peter on the edge. MJ was far off in brassland, reading a book since she hated her section. She really hated trumpets.

Then the drum majors motioned to the saxes that they could do their thing and Ned stood up, ushering his section to stand up as well. You smiled, as this was one of your favorite traditions during football games.

Ned played the first note, and everyone following after. The tune of ‘Beautiful Girl’/’Stand By Me’ leaving the horns. There were a few pitch problems, but it’s not like it was a competition. Football games were always one to just relax, have fun, and do dumb shit.

Mrs. Ha even watched with a smile on her face.

“How do you think MJ’s faring?” You asked Peter. He looked back.

“Still reading her book,” he replied. “Dude, this is the last time we’re ever gonna hear Stand By me.”

You shoved Peter, “Bruh, don’t talk about it! I’m gonna cry.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “This is the last time we wear our uniform for a football game.”

“Peter!”

Peter laughed, raising his arms up in the air to block you from trying to smack him.

“Man, I’ll just do Drum Corps or whatever after this,” you muttered after giving up on hitting Peter.

“You could, that’d be badass,” Peter said. “Maybe do like percussion like tenor drums or something.”

You nodded your head, “I totally should. I’m gonna miss band a lot.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. “But at least we can focus more on our other extracurriculars.”

You raised a brow at him. “You mean your internship?” Peter nodded his head. “You should’ve just quit band man.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but band is fun and you’re still in it with your internship. Though, I think MJ would have found out a lot sooner if I did though.” You laughed, remembering how MJ was only slightly thrown off on Peter possibly being Spider-Man because of how he was able to be in band and a superhero. Though the same applied to you

“Okay, sure, but I don’t do missions on season, and I fight crime a little less,” you retorted. He laughed again at you, eyes filled with amazement. You were cheering at the football team, not that you knew what was going on. Just, everyone else was cheering plus it was fun.

Peter was always amazed at how smoothly you fit into the leader role, something that would put you at an advantage if you ever led the Avengers in the near future. It definitely helped when you led groups in missions or when none of the older adults were around in times of crises. Then whenever a freshman was upset or a band member got injured on the field, you always somehow ended up right next to them. Even tripping while running across the field but falling into a roll then jumping back up, then carrying said injured member off the field to make sure they were okay.

He laughed to himself, remembering each moment he shared with you and all the other band members. He’s going to miss it a lot, but he knew you’d miss it even more.

***

The sounds of cheering, the rush of adrenaline, the musical notes and perfect harmonies accompanying the melody reverberated throughout the stadium. Then when the last note came out of your horn and everyone snapped their horns down, panting and sweat glimmering on everyone’s forehead, you smiled. You started almost laughing with tears coming down your face.

You enjoyed jumping off buildings to feel the adrenaline and going through the city but that could never compare to performing. Especially considering all the hard work you, and the entire band, put in for this particular moment. Your smile widened even more when you saw both of the senior drum majors on the podium in front of you also smiling, panting, but tears in their eyes.

Then the bass drum hit and in time with the beat, the members marched off the field or went to their respective prop to push it off the field. You were part of the latter, meeting up with Peter at the same prop.

He flashed you a smile, “Don’t cry yet (Y/n), we gotta wait before the senior traditions.” Then you only started crying more when you realized you wouldn’t be on the receiving end anymore. You would be the senior participating in said traditions. You wiped the tears off with your gloves.

“Shut up, Peter,” you laughed. “I can’t help it, we made it into finals. That was our final performance.”

“Was it your best performance?” Peter asked. You just started bawling more, nodding your head. At this point you weren’t even pushing the prop, but you knew Peter didn’t even need help, being Spider-Man and all. “Then that’s all that matters.”

When the entire band made it out in the -5 degree cold air, putting their instruments away and giving the props to the band dads to put away, you finally stopped crying. Mostly because tears in this weather was always an ass with how cold it is, especially considering the uniform doesn’t give you any warmth. Before your band director could round everyone up to talk about how it was the best performance your band had ever performed this year, that it didn’t matter what place you got, you felt a small body wrap around your legs.

“(Y/n)!!”

“Mo! What are you doing?” You asked, picking her up into your arms. She was bundled in warm clothing and you saw your dad and Pepper. Then even in the distance, you saw the Avengers which made you beam.

“That was great,” your dad said, kissing the top of your head.

“Wait! No PDA in uniform.” you took a small step back. He rolled his eyes. “Kidding, I don’t care anymore. Thanks dad.” He ruffled your hair the moment you gave your shako (hat) for Morgan to hold.

“Yeah, honey, even your solo was amazing,” Pepper said, fixing your hair then kissing the top of your head.

“It was…” Morgan paused, her face scrunching as she went deep in thought. “An outstanding performance!” Morgan cheered, hugging you tightly. You, Tony, and Pepper exchanged glances.

With a raised brow, you asked, “Where’d she learn those words?”

“No clue.” Tony shrugged. Then he grabbed his dad-bag and pulled out a few cards and even small gifts. “By the way, this is from everyone. They’ll come stop by to say hi but after they have a mission to get to.”

A small smile made its way on your face and you even started crying again. Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down. Morgan held onto you even tighter and Pepper placed a comforting hand on your hand.

“Thank you for coming, I’m gonna miss this so much,” you sniffled. Looking around you at your bandmates and all the joyful tears being shed, the hugs, the laughter. None of them were even staring at your dad in this moment because of the last performance. Which says a lot. Well, save for a few but it didn’t matter.

“I know,” your dad said softly. “But you got to experience it and I am so proud of you, (Y/n). Section leader and then woodwind captain? Amazing. I can barely play piano for the life of me.”

You chuckled, “I can’t code for the life of me.”

“But one thing’s for certain,” Pepper said. “Starks are always a natural for their passions.”

Your band director called for everyone to gather around to give them one last after-performance talk for the end of the season. You stood next to MJ, Peter, and Ned. Some of you with tears in your eyes, but all of you with a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. Four years of band was difficult, but you all made due with each other.

You glanced back, towards your family and the other Avengers and you were so happy to know that there on the field, you knew they were all watching. They all supported you through your musical career and would never stop.

Then the drum majors dismissed all of you and you turned to try to talk to your family once more, even making eye contact with Steve until all the freshmen and other underclassmen bombarded you with hugs and being all teary eyed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it guys,” you mentioned, looking at Peter, Ned, and MJ, trying to get them to help you out, “I’ll be doing drumline this year, I’ll still hang ‘round the bandroom.”

Tony chuckled, watching you talk to the younger teenagers and hugging each of them. He was proud of you, no doubt about it.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x neutral!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #platonic!reader #a.writes

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queeranarchist · 3 years

Text

Dear Writer

Heyyo!

It's good to see you here, this is a long exchange so the main thing is enjoying yrself so feel free to pick and choose or ignore this letter as you wish! And feel free to browse through my letter tag for more ideas.

Also, I’m on that full-time work and full-time uni degree grind so it probably will take me like a month to read the fic, does not mean I do not love it and I promise to get to it!! Don’t stress to much about a gap between posting and commenting <3

Now without further ado onto the letter:

General Likes: Trans characters, queer themes, queer solidarity, character development, strong gen. relationships and interactions with characters outside of a relationship, dialogue-driven story, non-linear narrative, animals, angst, hurt/comfort, character introspection

DNW: underage, a/b/o, past S7 for SPN

Supernatural

DNW: Anything past Season 7

Likes: boy king arc, Sam centric fic, queer Sam (I literally head canon him as anything with whatever pronouns), Bobby, trans Dean, religious iconography/themes, Sam being a lore nerd

Dislikes: Sidelining Sam 

Sam/Ruby

1. Ruby lives, I’d love to see how this plays out in Season Five. Whether she sticks with Lucifer or chooses Sam.

2. Sam goes dark side after freeing Lucifer

3. Earlier on Sam starts trusting her and fulfilling his role as the boy king. If this stops Dean from going to hell, changes the way the demons work etc

Sam/Jess

1. Jess lives au! My personal head canon is that Jess is pre-med and being very intent on saving people. When she finds out about hunting, she realises that she can’t just go back to being “normal” knowing people are dying. Maybe Sam decides to go back to law school and they have a semi long-distance relationship where she asks him for advice, maybe they hunt together every now and again. Maybe she joins Dean and Sam and they become a hunting trio.

2. Jess gets brought back to life – place this in any season you want! Go wild.

Dean & Sam

1. Dean keeps in touch with Sam during Stanford! Maybe from the get-go, maybe after a couple of years, maybe seeing each other, maybe just through postcards

2. I’d love to see them during S4 where their relationship starts to fall apart, but like also see them still loving each other

Sam & Dean & John

1. John gets a year to live instead of instantly going to hell AU – how do they react? Do they try to save him? Does John tell them?

2. I’d love a sort of non-linear story of them (especially Sam because it’s been so long) trying to integrate John into his adult life also looking at his life as a child/teen. You know the general angst about how he’d done it, he’d gotten away and he’s right back at square one. Also, Dean starting to realise that he isn’t a kid anymore, and he’s got his own thoughts etc

Sam & Dean & Cas - Cas/Dean & Sam

1. I want to see Sam and Cas and Dean being pals! I especially want to see Cas trying to figure out how he feels about Sam without heaven influencing him to think of him purely as the boy with the demon blood who will break the last seal. I wanna see Dean making fun of Cas with various misconceptions about the bible and Cas just taking it wildly seriously and not getting any jokes.

2. I’d love just a domestic-ish fic, let Sam drill Cas with questions about angels and heaven! Let Cas drill Dean and Sam about human culture! Would love to see Cas taking human culture things out of the context that Sam and Dean provide him, or maybe Dean purposely lies to him about something as a prank

Sam

1. Licherally anything in the boy king arc! I’d love to see him fulfilling his role as the boy king. This stops Dean from going to hell, changes the way the demons work etc

2. His time at Stanford! I’d love to see him adjusting to his new life.

3. I would love to see a bit more of him in Season Four! How he feels about Dean being chosen by the angels, how this affects his view on religion, how he feels about himself and the demon. Blood etc

4. Just some introspection anytime in the series tbh, love to see this boy struggle with wanting to be good, with wanting to be normal, and then um not being those things

5. I’d love a sort of non-linear story of Sam trying to integrate John into his adult life also looking at his life as a child/teen. You know the general angst about how he’d done it, he’d gotten away and he’s right back at square one.

Final Fantasy XV

Likes: fics that include the whole gang, trans Gladio, anything with Prompto, angst about destiny, angst about royal linage, character introspection

Noctis/Gladio/Ignis/Prompto

1. I really like angsty fics about destiny with this lot - I would love to see how the way in which they’ve been raised effects their relationship, be it being groomed to be king or shield or advisor. I would love a getting together fic, with whichever ship you wish to write, with a lot of internal angst.

2. I would also love a post cannon fic where Noctis is alive (magic, never died, skip over it entirely it’s up to you) where they all settle down, maybe Noctis lets the world think he has died so he can live a peaceful life?

3. Set between game cannon and Brotherhood, I‘d be down to see what these guys got up to in the years between high school and the road trip. Did Prompto and Noctis study after high school? Do they travel?’

4. Less of a prompt and more a vague feeling but like *slaps prompto* this bad boy can fit so much angst in it. Honestly he’s childhood is depressing af, with the lack of parents and friends combined with a shit body image/relationship with food I wld rlly love some emotional hurt/comfort with him and the squad

Noctis/Prompto

3. I would like to see a fic of Prompto integrating himself into Noctis’ life, Gladio and Ignis have been around his entire life, so how does Prompto feel about them? How do they feel about him? Honestly I’m 100% here for awkward insecure bby Prompto

4. Set between game cannon and Brotherhood, I‘d be down to see what these guys got up to in the years between high school and the road trip. Did Prompto and Noctis study after high school? Do they travel?

5. Less of a prompt and more a vague feeling but like *slaps prompto* this bad boy can fit so much angst in it. Honestly, he’s childhood is depressing af, with the lack of parents and friends combined with a shit body image/relationship with food I wld rlly love some emotional hurt/comfort with him and the squad

Naruto

Likes: the summons, Rock Lee, the squads and how they operate, Naruto getting to eat the ramen he deserves, Sakura being an actual bad arse fleshed out character, trans Naruto

Sasuke/Naruto

1. Naruto leaves and joins Sasuke on his mission to destroy to Leaf, talks him out of y’know murdering everyone but agrees that the Shinobi system is deeply fucked and needs to be fixed

2. I’d like a fic of Sasuke thinking about Naruto while doing all his plotting, be it set when he’s with Orochimaru or the Akatsuki, it would be nice to see him thinking about Naruto, wanting to stop doing so, wondering how strong he could have been if he had managed to kill him and gain the mangekyou earlier

Gai/Naruto

1. I’d like a fic set just before Kakashi gets his genin, really love to see Gai trying to talk up how cool having a squad is! Dragging Kakashi to see his kids and being like aren’t my team great! And then Team Gai getting into some crazy hijinks that make Kakashi a lil scared about the future but also maybe a bit endeared towards them

2. a fic of Gai watching Kakashi slowly loose himself while in ANBU, of him trying to make things right and not being able to and then eventually asking him to be removed from the forces

SDV

Likes: world building, farm creatures, small town hijinks

Sam/Seb

1. Angst about getting out of town, leaving SDV and becoming who they dreamed they would in HS

Sam & Seb & Abigail

1. Abigail talks them into exploring the mines

2. They pull a prank

3. Angst about getting out of town, leaving SDV and becoming who they dreamed they would in HS

#f5k #letter

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Swallow [Pt.6]

Chapter: Barely Holding On

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Can two hopelessly damaged people find healing in each other?

Warnings: Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. Heavy Angst (I know. What else is new with series right?) 18+

A/N: I’m sorry it’s been so long between updates, but tbh this fic takes a lot out of me when I write it – it’s emotionally exhausting to write. If you want something to listen to while reading, I would recommend ‘It’s been a while’ and ‘Everything changes’ by Staind. I know some of you will be surprised by this chapter, but this has been a clear theme throughout the series. Send me love because I’m needy. No beta. Read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

The days apart stretched into weeks and the weeks turned into a month, and with each passing hour, you found yourself struggling to put one foot in front of the other. You wanted to leave. It would be so easy to start your life over. You’ve done it once you could surely do it again. Nothing was keeping you in this shit hole of a town. You were still jobless after all this time being home. So much for nursing always being in demand and as much as you loved Clint, you were starting to suffocate under the weight of all the memories encompassing you. The only real tether to this town was the one reason you should leave it.

If there was ever going to be a reason for you to leave and never look back, Bucky was it.

And it wasn’t just affecting you anymore. Clint had not been to the club since the day you went on your ride with Bucky. He wouldn’t say what happened, but you haven’t seen his kutte in over a month, and Clint told Nat she wasn’t allowed to work the bar for a while. That didn’t go over well. If your dumbass brother had simply asked her not to she would have agreed but he had to go all caveman – he slept on the couch for a few nights after that.

Clint doesn’t always think things through when he’s upset. You might get that charming quality from him.

It’ had been a month since Bucky told you the truth, but it didn’t change anything, did it? Bucky was still the same man you fell in love with – flaws and all. It’s taken an embarrassingly long time for you to realize you were always going to come second to James Barnes and yet, you couldn’t stay away from him. No matter what happened or how hard you sought to keep your distance the pull between you was louder than any reasoning your brain could come up with.

That’s how you knew you would end up here the moment you decided to come home – outside the clubhouse at two in the morning, fingers trembling as you typed in your old code. Your body sagged in relief as the light flashed green and the handle unlocked allowing you to slip in.

This was not the first time you crept into the clubhouse while everyone was asleep. It was the first time you had done it alone. The floor, couches and pool tables were covered in unconscious lumps and most snoring away. It wasn’t uncommon to see when multiple charters were getting together, patch overs, or family announcements. Whatever happened last night you missed one hell of a party. Times like these made it hard to be on the outside. Good times and bad, you were no longer a part of Bucky’s world, and it chipped away another piece of your heart every time it was shoved in your face.

“Y/n,” Steve said, hushed, careful of the people sleeping on couches around them. He was leaning on the bar watching you with an amused grin.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Steve chuckled quietly and walked towards you. “Shouldn’t you be at home?” He snarked back. You narrowed your eyes, but the corner of your lips curled up into a small smile.

“Is his room still his room?” Steve nodded and followed you as you walked towards the back hallway stepping over the sleeping men on the floor as you went.

“Y/n?” You turned back to look at him brow raised in question. “If you go back there, it needs to be for good. I’m not telling you to take him back or saying you have to walk away. You should follow your heart but whatever you choose needs to be forever. He needs all of you. Not this half in bullshit. If you’re done, let him go.”

“I know.” You assured him. “That’s why I’m here, Steve. No more half in.”

--------

Torture.

Untold agony.

Plain and simple.

This last month has been sheer agony. Bucky hasn’t seen or spoken to you in over a month, and the only thing keeping him from completely wasting away was knowing you hadn’t skipped town. He half expected to wake up that first morning to find Clint beating down his door because you took off in the middle of the night again – a burning need to get away as far away from him as you could. Clint never came, and your jeep has been parked outside of Clint’s place since Peter drove it home.

There was a bit of contentment in all the anguish. A realization. Bucky needed to let you go, but it has never been that simple. If it were, he would have done it when your life was at risk six years ago. Bucky’s been fighting to let you go since the day you left, and there were times when he thought he made it through and then there were nights like tonight where he didn’t believe he would ever be free of the ache that came from losing you. One of these days, he hoped, your love wouldn’t have this grasp on him anymore. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to live in a world where he no longer loved you.

No, that was not a hurt he wanted to endure. This was all pointless if his heart doesn’t belong to you.

There was a soft knock at his door, and Bucky was immediately irritated. Steve checking in on him again. He did the same thing five years ago. Always stopping by at random hours as if Bucky was going to drink himself to death or something else equally stupid. He pushed his hair back out of his face not bothering to put a shirt on. If Steve wanted to bug him at two in the morning, he got to see Bucky in nothing but dirty ass sweatpants. Maybe he will think twice before waking someone up after this – not that he has been sleeping at all since your fight.

“Steve I swear to God–” Bucky stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you standing on the other side of the door, wide-eyed and restlessly fiddling with your bracelets. Damn, he should have put on a shirt. No words were exchanged – words weren’t needed when it came to you. He let go of the doorknob and stepped back giving you space to come in when you were ready. It needed to be your choice just like it would be your choice if the door stayed open.

You slipped into the small space he left ajar and quickly shut the door behind you. You both stared at each other unsure who should speak up first or what to say once you did. His brow wrinkled, mouth opened and then shut. Bucky didn’t know where to start, Why are you here? What the hell took you so long? Is this what the end looks like? Two in the morning and dirty sweats? Because I’m done for if you leave again. I can’t go another day without you.

The stillness in the air made your heart pound against your chest threatening to break free and reveal all your weaknesses. Your eyes roam over his chest taking in the new additions to his skin. Your eyes followed the black ink along his left arm, ‘sine timore’ sticking out in the middle of his bicep as of reminder of what comes first. Every member had those words inked somewhere on their skin, and you hated them with everything you had There was only one addition you noticed – a date over his heart.

The date you met.

It had been added to the work he had over the left side of his chest, and your heart was heavy from the weight of your guilt and all the things you kept from him. Your fingers fiddled with the straps of your bracelets and with your heart pounding in your ears the soft brown leather slipped from your fingers landing on the floor between you.

Bucky’s eyes fell to your wrist trying to understand what you were doing, but the second he saw it, he knew. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, they were begging you for an explanation, and all you could give him was a shrug. Because you didn’t know why it was still there. You couldn’t count the number of times you had tried to get it removed, but it never felt right. No matter what how hard you endeavored you couldn’t erase him from your skin.

He moved slowly towards you until your back was pressed flat against the closed bedroom door, his hand was on your wrist the second you were within reach and pad of his thumb pressing heavily against the swallow still imprinted on your delicate skin. Bucky bent forward slightly, his eyes watching you silently asking for your permission. It’s always had to be your decision. Yeah, in the past, he wouldn’t have held back at a time like this, but things were different now. Tattoo or not, you weren’t his, and you haven’t been his in years.

It’s taken him a long time to admit that, still, all Bucky could see was your lips.

Your chin raised silently giving him the permission he was seeking. His hips pushed into yours pinning you against the door, and his lips were on yours before either of you could think about the consequences. His lips brushed over yours, delicate and demanding – devouring every inch of you. A hand came up and cupped your jaw holding you still, your eyes fluttered closed letting his touch, his lips consume you entirely. Bucky didn’t let up until you were both panting and breathless.

He released your jaw and tightened his hold on your wrist as he pulled you back towards the bed, his grip loose enough that you could pull away not that you were going to. Your heart has been struggling to find it’s place since you returned and it finally found it.

--------

Bucky blew out a thick cloud of smoke and put out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. The sun had been up for a few hours now and there were hushed movements in the kitchen but he was in no hurry to move. There was plenty of reasons to not leave his bed this morning, and every one of them was wrapped up in you.

A soft orange light was peeking through the cracks in the blinds covering his bedroom window, setting a gentle glow against your skin. He stared at you laying in bed next to him, your back rising and falling steadily with each breath and your arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. Fuck, he really messed this up. Bucky didn’t want things to go down like that way this time. He was trying hard to not repeat his past mistakes, but it seemed Bucky couldn’t escape them no matter how hard he attempted to right all the wrongs he had done to you.

The thin white sheet was barely covering your lower half – a sight he never thought he would see again after your talk. He ached to be happy that you were here, but his brain wouldn't let go of every way this could go wrong. What was going to happen when you woke up? The whole night felt like a mistake. The rock sitting in his gut was telling him this was a mistake. It was too sudden, too rash and after everything that happened, he should have taken his time. The genuine fear was eating away at his heart telling him you were going to bolt when the realization of last night finally hit you.

His knuckles grazed down the back of your arm as you began to stir. Time to face the music then. You reached out in your sleepy haze and wrapped an arm around his waist attempting to pull him closer to you. He obliged and grinned at the sight of his name scrolled on your ribs following the curve of your left breast. Bucky was the only one that knew it was there and he wanted to keep it that way – or he thought he was the only one. A pang of jealousy washed over him as his mind wandered to the five years you were gone, and he wondered how many men have seen it.

Probably better if he doesn’t dwell on ‘what ifs’ this morning. You were there in his bed, and that was all that matters. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your temple. The heady scent of cigarettes and soap pulled you from the soft waves of sleep you were floating in.

“Hi,” You croaked, hoarse from sleep as you caught his eyes.

“Hey.”

Bucky smiled and ran his left hand down your back letting his hand rest on your lower back, fingers skimming the edge of the sheet. He could just not say anything. You could both avoid the inevitable and live in this little bubble for a few moments longer, but it would be an insult to both of you. Bucky knew all too well he can’t hide from what’s beyond that door and all that was expected of him.

“We should talk about last night, pretty girl. Last night was incredible. Unexpected but incredible. I thought–” He ran his right hand along his jaw. “It’s been over a month. I thought I lost you and all this. Then you show up here in the middle of the night, and we slip right back into old habits.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Buck.” You admitted before he got any further because it was the truth. You didn’t know what you were doing when you showed up at his door, all you knew was this is where you should be regardless of the history you shared and the warning bells that were echoing, loudly, in your head.

“Clint?”

You answered him with a simple head shake. No, Clint didn’t know you were at the clubhouse and in bed with Bucky. Though he would be figuring it out here any minute when he went to wake you for breakfast only to find an empty bed and a hastily written note stuck to mirror above your dresser.

“We can chalk up to lingering feelings and a late-night mistake. No one has to know,” Bucky breathed, distressed and worn from the sheer thought of having to forget the feel of your skin under his hands.

“Steve knows.” You whispered, “He caught me trying to sneak in.”

Bucky chuckled as his fingers slipped under the sheet and ghosted over the delicate skin hiding beneath the covers. “Okay, just the three – or, four of us have to know.”

“Peggy?”

“Yeah, he definitely told Pegs.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “Steve spills everything the second they are alone. They won’t say a thing if I tell them not to. Say the word, and it’s forgotten.”

It would be easy to claim it was all a foolhardy slip-up spurred from the closure neither of you was granted years ago. There was no doubt that there were flames still burning, embers still smoldering for him – there would always be pieces of you lingering within his soul. Forgetting would be the easy out for you both.

“What if I don’t want to do that.” You whispered, soft and hesitant, a silent tremor in your voice.

“Do what, baby?”

You’re either in love with him, or you’re not.

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, but I’m scared this is going to blow up in my face again.” You mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’m addicted to you. There are good reasons they say addictions break you down and tear you apart.”

“I promise you nothing is going to break you down again,” Bucky swore, scrambling not to lose this second chance. “I know there are more than enough reasons for you to never trust me again and I know you deserve better than me, but I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to make us work this time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat watching your fingers trace the swallow on the top of his hand. Steve was right, and man did you hate it when he was right. You couldn’t continue to be half in, one foot out the door always ready to run if something doesn’t go your way. You either loved him, or you didn’t, and you needed to make a choice. Right then. The right decision was palpable, and you knew what choice you were going to make.

“If we do this you can’t hide things from me. Even things that might hurt me and all the things that you’re scared of. You have to show me all of you, even the broken pieces you don’t want me to see.”

“Baby.” He sighed and let his forehead rest against yours. “I’ll show you the broken parts of my soul if you promise not to run when you see the monster I am because of them.”

“You are many things, Buck,” You whispered softly. “But a monster isn’t one of them.”

Doubt and worry were flashing vividly in his eyes. You could practically hear his mind racing as he tried to figure it all out that very second. He needed it all planned out before either of you made it out bed and that wouldn't happen. It wouldn’t be that easy. Your relationship was too complicated for that. Bucky brought your hand up and placed a gentle kiss to your wrist – The two of you were gonna have a chat about that here soon you had a strong suspicion.

“What does this mean?” He asked finally.

“It means,” You said, interrupting the raging thoughts you knew were surging in his head. “We are going to take things one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Bucky repeated. “I can do one day at a time.”

Slow and steady. Bucky could do that if that’s what you needed. He would do whatever it takes to make this forever.

Forever won’t happen overnight, but he can make it one day at a time.

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#biker!bucky x reader #biker!bucky #bucky banres x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #mc!bucky #mc!au #alternate universe

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ardentmuse · 5 years

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No Ties (Harry Hart x Reader)

Kingsman - Harry Hart x Reader

Wordcount: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Summary: When Harry is recruited to KIngsman, he is an engaged man. But the organization’s policy means he can have no ties. He’s willing to sacrifice his happiness to keep you safe, but can you ever really get over having it all?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst... did I say angst?? Talk of death and violence, just a little bit of soul repairing at the end, but not much

Masterlist

A/N: This started a fem!reader which I then made gen!neutral so let me know if I missed anything. This also isn’t a song fic but is GREATLY inspired by I Was Gonna Marry You by Tristan Prettyman. So angsty and so lovely. Listen to it if you want! Also I need something fluffy after this so there may be another fic tonight to heal my soul. Also note that Kingsman - Day refers to the day Harry starts at Kingsman. Also I did not proofread this because I didn’t want to tbh. Thanks, sweeties!

Kingsman – Day 12

“What’s that you got there?” came a voice from the door of Harry’s new bedroom in the Kingsman manor. Harry turned to see Merlin, the newly-hired tech specialist, peering in and over his shoulder.

Realizing he was caught, Harry took the frame that he was intending to slide under his mattress and placed it prominently on the bedside table.

“Beautiful,” Merlin remarked as he took in the smiling face of a person about Harry’s age their nose scrunched in laughter. “Yours?”

“Was,” Harry mustered as he moved back to unpacking his bags. Merlin turned at the phrase, surprised at the finality of it, but when he saw how rigid Harry’s back was at the inquiry, he didn’t push the matter.

Eight Months Pre-Kingsman

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Harry knelt in the grass of the airfield, having just returned from his third and final tour with the military. His back was straight and his shoulders rigid as was customary in his regalia, the crisp blue suit holding his body in form.

The newly added third Bath star upon his shoulder, the sign of his most recent title, seemed almost as bright as the ring he held out to you. But your eyes seemed to take in neither. You only had eyes for Harry. Your gorgeous, glowing countenance was smiling down upon him, so desperate to hold him in your arms after months and months apart with only letters, much of which were redacted, to keep you connected. You hadn’t even got to hug him yet before he fell to his knees in front of his entire regiment. Tears were rolling down your cheeks at the sight of him, but he couldn’t even be sure you had seen the ring at all.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered as your hands came down to brush across his freshly shaven cheeks.

“And I you,” he smiled against your mouth as you took him in a kiss, completely ignoring his question. But he didn’t mind. He needed you, wanted you, and after so long apart, your touch was like a salve to all the open wounds of his heart, healing his mind from the terrors of war and replacing them with impossibly beautiful images of you naked across his white sheets, flush from lovemaking, or dancing with him on your back patio to soft jazz after dinner, or the sight of your face tilted downward as you walked towards him down a cobblestone path blanketed with flowers to exchange your vows.

As you collapsed into his shoulder, breathing in deeply his scent, his arms found the soft flesh of your waist and tugged you close, two humans wanting nothing more than to never have to part again.

“Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered in your ear, “Please.”

He felt you nod against his jaw more than he heard the mews from your lips. You pulled your hand away from his neck enough to give him the space to adorn it with the precious metal. And as you admired the ring over his shoulder, he admired the skin of your neck, the curve of your legs, and the soft feel of your waist under his hands, the greatest gift in his life his now for good.

Kingsman – Day 01

“I’ll only be gone a week, love,” Harry said as he kissed the top of you head before returning his attention back to the small travel bag he was packing. “And then I will be right back in your arms before you can even miss me.”

You laughed, “I miss you now.”

Harry sighed and turned to you fully as you reclined among the pillows of your shared bed. You were twiddling your thumbs, a weird new habit that formed since he placed that ring on your finger several months ago. The diamond shined in the soft bedroom lights, each turn of your hand catching a new beam. Your gaze danced in your lap and he could tell you were trying not to whine any more than you already had.

“I know,” he whispered, allowing his fingers the joy of running along your jawline. His touch had you lifting your eyes to meet his, still so captivating from behind your lashes. He had to kiss you.

As his lips moved down your jaw, he found himself crawling onto the bed with you, his body hovering over yours in a silent question.

“But I’m right here, right now,” he said with a cheeky smile against your neck. “No need to miss me already.”

His licks and nips across your skin had you smiling in earnest.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him hard against your body. You could already feel him responding to your closeness, the pleasant press of his hardening length against your core just an enjoyable sensation.

“You could always give me something to remember you by,” you cooed into his ear.

Harry chuckled, “How’s a card sound? Or maybe a nice tray of cookies?”

You lifted your hips and ground against him, shutting down his witty banter in a satisfying moan.

“So predictable” he laughed as you slowly sucked on his ear, rocking into him with vigor now, “my perfect little vixen.”

And he gave you quite a bit to remember him by.

Kingsman – Day 05

Several days of tactical tests and mental games had Harry worn down. He was succeeding at whatever they threw his way, but he was finding himself missing you more than he had during any previous training or deployment. Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was the raised stakes. Maybe it was the lies. But whatever it was, he could taste you upon his tongue each night as he tried to sleep. He could feel your warm body pressed against him. And if his dreams were any indication, he spent several hours of the night whispering to himself how much he adored you.

But today’s task may have been the very worst yet. He watched on a screen in the tech room as you danced around your kitchen, cleaning and singing and enjoyed the day. He even watched as you ran a finger lightly over a framed photo that hung just beside the sink of the two of your from last year’s military banquet. You gave two firm taps to Harry’s face before pulling your finger away, kissing the tip, and doing it again.

For minutes he watched as he sat as the alone recruit in the room, a few scattered agents watching along as well. No one said a single word.

That was until as you went back to your dishes, faint red crosshairs appears on the screen, centered perfectly on your precious skull.

Harry let out a primal yell, unsure to whom he was really yelling, and rose from his chair, clutching Mr. Pickles, as he decided a few hours ago to call his dog, to his chest.

“If we can get this close, just imagine what your enemies could do, Harry,” Agent Lancelot said with the firmness of a man who knew what he was saying from personal experience.

Harry held tight to the tiny puppy in his arms, unsure of what the actual test was here. Was he supposed to protect you? Was he supposed to call their bluff? Could he trust these strangers with your life?

“You’re bluffing,” Harry said, stern through his teeth as he watched another agent, Gawain he believed his name was, move the mouse, and the target, along with you. The lines gently bobbed along to the music you had playing.

Sensing Harry’s heightened attentions, the agent turned the volume up ever so slightly and the sounds of the third track off the record you listened to so often together when you cleaned came pumping into the suffocatingly cavernous room. And even fainter was the sound of your voice, humming along; happy and completely oblivious to the harm he was bringing to your life simply by being the capable soldier he already was.

“I assure you we never bluff here,” Lancelot said with a smile that only served to make Harry’s blood boil. “But we do have a strong code of honor here. I assume you’ve read the Gentleman’s Guide? Kingsmen only take life to save life.”

Lancelot took long steps towards the desk at which Gawain sat. The tactical agent was still staring intently at you as he kept his target as he had been instructed. But something in his gaze set off flares in Harry’s head and he saw red, a deep possessiveness overtaking him at the fact that any man could look at you as a target, for bullet or otherwise.

“But if you read the Gentleman’s Guide, then I assume you also became acquainted with another one of our rules, an important one. One that is necessary for the safety and success of our missions, and by proxy the safety of the crown, the country, and the planet in general, including your precious fiancé(e) right here.”

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as Lancelot nodded at Gawain.

“No ties.”

A shot rang.

You screamed, piercing through the speakers with shattering waves.

Harry bolted towards the monitor as the agents watched him. You had moved several feet away from the sink but appeared uninjured. But Harry saw what you had yet to see: a perfect prick right in the middle of the beautifully framed photo of the two of you, a bullet piercing what little space existed between your heads. Glass was shattered everywhere and the frame hung limply from its hook.

You slowly moved towards the photo, picked it up between your hands. You examined the damage while avoiding the shards of glass so fractured and sharp.

“What the fuck,” he thought he heard you whisper before you whipped your head around quickly to examine the room for the source the explosion.

Before Harry could see you calm, assure you that there was no harm to come to you in the home you loved, the monitor shut itself down.

“That right there is a liability, Harry. Sure, you can leave all of this, go back and live your happy little life. But you are a man of a certain set of skills. It won’t be long until someone finds them and wants to use them. How long until someone finds your lover who doesn’t have the same code as we?”

A pregnant pause filled the air, only the soft, whimpered breathing of Mr. Pickles at the clear distress of his owner broke through. Harry locked eyes with the man who just dared threaten your life. But did he really threaten your life any more than Harry’s mere existence did?

“Gawain,” Lancelot finally called out. He opened the door to the tech room and left Harry alone in the space. Once the door shut tight, Harry fell to his knees and cried.

Kingsman – Day 10

“I’m taking this job,” Harry said with a deep breath. His words pulled your eyes from the book you had been reading as you lounged so peacefully among the throw blankets on your sofa. “And you aren’t coming with me.”

You scrunched your face in confusion at Harry’s words, more serious than the kind of conversation you were expecting at this time of night, but then softened after a moment of thought.

“Like another deployment? Harry, whatever the time or the distance, we can make it work. I support you. What is another year when we’ll get to spend our whole lives together?”

You smiled up so sweetly at him, so sure that your love could endure any distance, any time, any weird radio silence his operations required. You suffered through so much already, supported him through years of putting his life on the line, going into the most dangerous places in the world and setting up systems to support British forces. And here you were, willing to do it all again, even when you’d come so close to a normal, domestic life. And that smile, that confident smile plastered on your face, broke his heart in a way he knew would never be repaired.

And yet somehow that smile also tightened his resolve. You were too good for this life, too good for him. And you deserved to live in a blissful world that was just as bright and pleasant and welcoming as you were. He couldn’t burden you with the darkness he knew, the darkness that would surround him wherever he went, Kingsman or not.

“You are misunderstanding me, love,” he said, cursing himself at how easily the pet name fell from his tongue, completely betraying his heart.

You looked at him with a serious expression. Your mouth fell open as the wheels turned. You gapped like a fish a time or two, watching the rigid tension of Harry’s jaw as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest to appear firm.

“… so that’s it?” you whispered. Your lip curled upward and quivered, causing tears to fall from Harry’s eyes as yours did as well.

“Yeah,” he managed before losing it completely, “it is.”

Harry fell at your feet, his hands coming down upon the blankets to draw circles into your tender knees as you cried in earnest.

“Was it something I did?”

You looked up at him with wells in your eyes, your hand kneading at the fabric in your lap. That image, the one of you broken and lost and just inches from him, a few inches of space so easily closed for a kiss but so vast now that those kisses were off the table, that image would be plastered in his mind forever. He knew it would haunt his dreams seeing the only thing he ever loved destroyed by his choices. But he told himself his own pain meant nothing if he couldn’t protect you. You would recover from this. What was he compared to you? In a few years, you would move on. But to move on from someone like you, he knew he never would. And that was his burden to bear, the burden of assuring your happiness and safety, even if he wasn’t the one to benefit.

“Never. You could never do anything—“ Harry said as he rubbed at your ears and your draw. “You’re perfect. But this is something I have to do for me.” Harry swallowed so he wouldn’t fill the space with the words he wanted to say: ‘for us. For you... Everything I do is for you.’

After a few minutes of crying and Harry trying his hardest to calm you with soft rubs of his hands, you took a steadying breath. You reached down to your hand and began to pull off the ring that had sat there, unmoved, for so many months.

Harry felt his heart stop. He had understood what leaving you meant intellectually but the sight of you without your ring, no longer wearing the symbol of where you heart lied, was simply too much. He felt like he couldn’t breath, the tightness in his chest too much for him. He had a brief flash of the flooding of the recruit room, the near drowning that has taken ahold of him just as he reached the toilet and the lightheadedness that was much closer to blacking out than he would like to admit. But this was worse. This pain couldn’t be alleviated with a few deep breaths and a couple minutes time.

This damage was permanent.

Quickly, his hand came down to hold the ring against your fingers and your gaze flicked up in hopeful question. But Harry simply shook his head no.

“It was a gift without condition,” he said to you, hoping you would understand just how much he needed you to keep it. “It is yours.”

You hiccupped, “I can’t keep it. I can’t. I can’t remember that I was going marry you.”

At your imploring gaze, Harry yielded, just like he always did for you. A final tug removed the diamond from your finger.

“It’ll hurt too much,” you pleaded as you dropped the ring into his palm. He didn’t have the heart to tell you it hurt him too much to take it away from you.

As he slipped the ring into his pocket, the weight of it feeling like it could sink him in a sea of despair, he heard you whisper, “I love you.” He ran his hands through your hair as he watched your eyes, still filled with tears pooling and pouring over down your lovely, kissable cheeks.

“I know,” he said and kissed your forehead, slow and sweet like it was the last time.

And when he pulled away, fully expecting to remove himself from you and your life for good, you met his gaze, pleading and honest as you leaned forward. And he could not deny himself the pleasure of feeling your lips, and your love, once more.

The kiss was bruising and all-encompassing. Your mouths melted together in a song they knew so well, but what were once bright chords became a mournful melody, a goodbye ballad.

And when he pinned you to the couch, sucked on your collar bone, and entered you, he moved as slow as his body would allow, memorizing the feel of your muscles gripping him so perfectly, the warmth of your hands upon his back and your breath on his neck, and the sounds that purred from your lips at his lovemaking.

He carried you to bed that night and held you close to his chest until your tears lulled you to sleep.

And when you woke in the morning, Harry, and his things, were gone.

Kingsman – Day 42

Harry walked down the high street away from the Kingsman tailor ship. It still felt quite strange to be wearing such a complicated piece of technology masquerading as formal wear, but he found he liked it. It was a uniform, the same as the kind he grew accustomed to as a soldier, but without the air of force or stoicism. He held his back tall as he continued down the road.

But something simple caught his trained eyes, just a flash of the familiar at the end of the road, the tap of shoes and a black top that sparked his brain, that set off sensors of love in his mind, signaling to his aching heart that it wasn’t done mourning the loss of the only thing that seemed to make life worth living.

When you lifted your head, Harry knew for sure it was you. Your eyes were puffy and your hair less kept than normal, but you still shined brighter than anything else on the road. Your best friend stood in front of you, holding your hand as she pulled you across the street. And it really was a tug as your limbs seemed to not want to move. But you entered the restaurant on the corner without much protest.

Harry felt his chest tighten at the sight. He wanted to run to you, to beg you to forgive him, to come back to him and love him again, but the gentleman’s code ran through his head, and having no ties, no relationships, was a large part of what made the organization successful. A collective of spies with nothing to lose is much more useful than those who hesitate. He had to do this to make the world a safe place for you. And so he watched with sadness as the slumped shoulders and tear-stained cheeks he caused disappeared into the restaurant just beyond his grasp.

And with his head held high and your engagement ring still weighing down his breast pocket, he continued on his way

Kingsman – Day 381

Harry collapsed in a ball on the jet, his hands still covered in the blood of Agent Kay who had so valiantly sacrificed himself to secure the team’s safety. The bomb at the World Cup stadium was disarmed and disposed of, another normal day to any excited fan, and another happy headline to add to the wall of the home Harry had just bought in the part of the city you had always dreamed of calling home.

Maybe he had hoped he could at least have the pleasure of seeing your head in the produce aisle of the grocery store or imagining he had just missed you by a few minutes at the underground station. But really it was just that Harry needed to play pretend. In the year since he had joined Kingsman, he had seen more evil than all his years at war. And to come home to a quiet neighbor, a charming flat, a home cooked meal and families walking down the sidewalk, cleared his mind better than any other distraction.

Right now he needed that distraction more than anything.

Hours later, and completely numb, Harry found himself in his kitchen, pretending like everything was normal. But nothing was normal about this life he had chosen.

He had normal, with you.

Harry tried to cook himself dining, to play music to distract himself. He even put on a movie, a last resort gesture for him if there ever was one. But nothing cleared his head of the sight of Kay slumped over and pool of blood under his body. Or the image of thousands of fans walking just over that spot an hour later like nothing had occurred.

Harry threw on his robe and took slow, long strides up his stairs. He collapsed in his bed and closed his eyes, but the images still remained. The bed felt wrong somehow: the blankets too scratchy, the mattress too firm, the pillows still holding their shape from such light use, and more than anything the warmth of your body and the thrill of your lips soothing him from his nightmares were starkly absent.

He wanted to go home.

His eyes sprung open. The clock beside his bed flashed midnight. Before he knew it, his slippers were on and he was sliding down the hall into his office.

As he sat at his computer, beside him resided that same picture of your face that he brought with him to the Kingsman manor. You were smiling so bright and it was motivation enough for him.

But not today.

Harry booted up the machine, went through the login processes Merlin had set up for him, and soon he had access to every CCTV camera throughout the city. Harry’s fingers typed in the coordinates to navigate to the cameras that pointed towards the front of your new apartment. You had moved a few weeks after Harry left, not that that surprised him. You had picked the place with your joint needs in mind and more room than was necessary for one person. Plus, the memories… so many memories.

He found your window, two stories up and right above the door. Your lights were off. You were safe. You were sleeping. The world was turning as normal for you. Harry smiled.

But then two figures walked into the frame. Harry recognized your form immediately, though the figure beside you was new. He was tall and lean like Harry but his attitude was confidence and charisma in a way Harry always felt he lacked.

Harry watched as you walked up the stoop and looked down at the well-dressed man. This hands were in his pockets but as you spoke, he lifted one to play lightly with your wrist, a move so intimate that it formed a lump in Harry’s throat. And after a few more seconds, the man pulled your forward and into a kiss that seemed as passionate as any you’d ever shared with Harry.

It seemed like minutes, though Harry knew it had only been seconds, before the man pulled away, his fingers dancing with yours as he made his exit. Harry watched you wave at the man’s retreating form and then felt the knife push deeper into his heart as you smiled bliss-filled to yourself as you fumbled with your keys.

Once you shut the door, Harry powered down the computer. He grabbed the photo of you from his desk and tossed it hard against the wall, cracking the frame in two and sending glass flying. Harry was fuming; consumed with a rage he hadn’t felt in years. He was so angry, with himself more than anything, for hoping that you might stay in mourning a little longer. He had wanted you to move on, deep in his bones he had prayed for it more than anything, because if you did it would make his choice justified. But even deeper, he had hoped you would pine forever, so on nights like tonight, when things became too stressful, he could run to you and find solace in your arms once more, let your laughter heal him, your kind words reassure him, and your body erase the pain.

But your life would not wait for him. There was no going back.

With some stabilizing breaths and a hard punch into the most stable part of the wall, Harry began the work of cleaning up the mess that was the one remaining piece of you in his home. He swept up the shards and put them in the bin along with the photo of you which all the mess had once enshrined. He needed to leave you behind, just as you had left him.

But upon seeing you thrown away, your face discarded among dust and debris, he just couldn’t do it. He pulled out your photo and tried his best to wipe away what scratches now littered its surface. He tucked your photo away in his filing cabinet among his mission briefings, safe and secure.

You may have not needed Harry anymore but the time may come when he needed you.

Kingsman – Day 710

Harry failed to prevent a car bombing in Bosnia. Your photo came out of its hiding spot one more time.

Kingsman – Day 1001

A plane is hijacked in Brazil. Harry opened the cabinet.

Kingsman – Day 2484

A sleeper agent assassinated. A peak in the drawer.

Kingsman – Day 3111

The death of Lee Unwin. The reminder of your face.

Kingsman – Day 8851

The death of Harry Hart. Nothing more.

Kingsman – Day 9245

“I know it is against the Kingsman rules, having a relationship—“ Eggsy said as he paced around Harry’s home office, still completely frazzled about how to handle the current state of affairs. Harry had just returned to him but Kingsman as they knew it was not the same. The protocol here was so unclear and the only man Eggsy could rely on for guidance seemed to be a shell of himself these days. But at Eggsy’s words, Harry cut him off, a quick movement of his head that let Eggsy know he had said something that broke the fog.

“When I was shot, you know what I saw?” Harry’s eyes were already gleaming with tears at the reminder of his near-death experience.

Eggsy merely shook his head, urging his friend to continue.

“I saw Y/N,” his voice was raw with emotion as he tilted his head upward to the only piece of newspaper on Harry’s walls that wasn’t a front page. Instead, it was tiny cut out from the Wedding section of the Telegraph, a beautiful face smiling brightly as a rather dashing man, not too dissimilar to Harry, stood behind, the date on the page well over a decade previous. “The love of my life, a person I haven’t held in my arms in over twenty years, but one I still love to this day.”

Eggsy looked away from the newspaper to Harry’s face. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he was swallowing over and over, waiting for the words to find space in his throat.

“Probably doesn’t even remember me anymore. Married, has a family, runs a business. I stopped looking into things a decade ago. But still, they are the closest I’ve ever had to something worth dying for. And I’d still die for them. I nearly did.”

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Eggsy in earnest, “In that moment, Eggsy, all I felt was loneliness… and regret.” Harry choked on his words and Eggsy felt the emptiness in his own soul acutely.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry cut him off, wiping at his own eyes with a new resolve, “I lost my chance. But you haven’t. Just know that having something to lose makes life worth living.”

Harry stood and walked towards his desk and opened the lowest draw. He pulled out a tiny velvet box, unmistakable to Eggsy as to its contents.

He handed the box over to Eggsy without meeting his eyes. Eggsy opened it to reveal a beautiful pave diamond ring with scrollwork detailing along the elegant gold band.

“Why—“ Eggsy started but the way Harry couldn’t meet his eyes explained everything.

“Let’s go get your girl.”

With a nod, Eggsy sprung out the door and down the stairs of Harry’s home. Before Harry could follow, he took the steps he knew too well to the old filing cabinet in the corner. He hadn’t bothered with paper files for missions in years, but the filing cabinet served another purpose in his mind. He pulled at the bottom drawer, to the single manila envelope that contained the frayed photo of your face, some 25 years younger than he knew you probably looked now, but just as happy and enthusiastic as he believed you always would be.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as he shed the last of his tears. He placed you back in your folder and back in the home he had built for your memory – the external storage of his heart – and left his study in pursuit of Eggsy.

Kingsman – Day 9504

Harry smiled from his seat at the main table overlooking the dance floor of Eggsy’s wedding. He had entertained himself for quite a bit chatting with Tilde’s parents and his new friends at Statesman. But now, from where he sat, taking in all the details of the place settings, the floors, the music, and the happy couples spinning circles on the hardwood, he couldn’t help but picture the bright and festive events you were planning when he started down this path with Kingsman.

You had narrowed down the venues to a handful of places and had already made quite a few decisions about aesthetic. Harry had cared so little, as long as he got to call you his spouse at the end of it all, that you had tasked him with planning your honeymoon. He had never told you about the tickets he had already booked before you gave him back his ring or the extra vacation days he had managed to negotiate with your boss behind your back.

It didn’t matter. It was all a wash anyway.

But at his mind wandered, his thoughts wistful about the life he could have led and the happiness he may have found beside you, he failed to notice Eggsy take the seat beside him.

“You think too much, Harry,” Eggsy said, passing a stiff drink his way. Harry didn’t bother asking what it was but shot it back in a single gulp regardless.

When he set back down the glass, Eggsy passed a manila folder across the table, filled to the brim with papers.

“Consider this a best man gift from me,” Eggsy said, his smile growing just a little cheeky as he sipped his own drink.

“I’m supposed to get you a gift, I’m fairly certain.”

“You being alive is gift enough.”

Harry went to open the folder but Eggsy’s hand stopped him, pulling Harry’s eyes upward to meet his.

“If it isn’t too late for me, it’s not too late for you,” Eggsy said, and with a pat to Harry’s wrist added, “It’s about time for the Gentleman’s Guide to change, don’t ya think?”

And Eggsy stood up and walked away.

Curious, Harry opened the folder and on top sat a photo of you, the pose almost the same as the one secure in his home but the wrinkles at the corners of your eyes and the laugh lines along the corners of your lips gave away the passing of time.

But you were still breathtaking. God, you were breathtaking.

Harry pushed the tears in his eyes down just a little to find your marriage certificate, nothing he hadn’t already known, but behind it he found something a new. Six years ago, a divorce filing and court paperwork documenting just what a cheating bastard your husband had been. Harry knew he shouldn’t be happy that life that treated you so poorly, but part of him felt justified. He thought that man was too cocky for his own good, too sure of how handsome he was and of the power he had over you.

But it seemed you turned out alright. A fat settlement came your way and you bought a house just a tube stop away from his own home. Your work was thriving, your most recent pictures seemed to depict many a fun night out with a handful of friends, and some charity work too, exactly the kind of person he remembered you being. He had been doing his best to keep the world a good place for you, and you had been doing the same, even if it wasn’t for him.

But it was the last few documents that really got to him: security footage from outside your house, the camera able to see into your kitchen. And beside your sink, in the place it always had been, hung a picture of Harry holding you tight in his full regalia. A shot mark marred the middle of the photo, but the intention was still clear. And in a series of photos, Harry could make out your form in the kitchen, your finger moving to your lips, and finally you touching his face the way you had when he was a recruit. And for the third time in his life, his chest was so tight he thought he wouldn’t be able to breath.

Maybe some days you needed him, too.

Harry didn’t think. He just moved. He left the wedding and the folder, his friends and his life, and an hour later he found himself in front of the address that had been listed as your home. The lights were on and in the kitchen he could see the faint outline of frame that he just knew held his own face.

He walked the steps, tears already threatening to leave his eyes and wet his cheeks. His heart was beating faster than it had in years but he didn’t take it as a sign to stop but rather a sign to keep going.

And so he knocked.

When you opened the door, your face was just as soft and vibrant as he remembered. Not a single mark of age made you less beautiful, but just enhanced all the lovely parts of your bone structure his fingers spend years memorizing. You were still in your work clothes except for your shoes were soft slippers covering your toes in a strange combination of serious and comfort that made Harry smile. This was you all right, in front of him and still the same as the person he fell in love with so many years ago.

“Ha-harry?” you gasped as your eyes moved up and down his body, settling on his eyes. He realized then how silly he must look too in his wedding attire at this odd hour of night, but then again the man you remembered was often in uniform.

Harry tried his best to smile more but he simply couldn’t. His lips quivered and his mouth grew dry. All he could do was nod in affirmation.

He watched as your shoulders fell and your hands moved forward hesitantly to touch his face.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, gently brushing at his skin. The feel of you was still magnetic, smooth and soft and warm, pulling him into your orbit.

“And I you,” you said, laughing at the realizing that this conversation had happened once before. You laughed too, though it was more of a hiccup between your tears. His hand reached for your cheek on instinct, wiping away the tears that collected there.

After a moment of just staring, moving closer and closer, unsure of what was right or real, you pulled away.

“Do you—do you want to come in?” you said with hesitation, quickly gesturing to the open door behind you and the faint sound of television going in the background.

Harry felt the butterflies collecting in his stomach at the sight of your beautiful face staring at him once more in the flesh, the manifestation of endless nights alone in his bed.

“I would.”

And with that you grabbed his hand, unsure until he wrapped his fingers once more around your own, and walked in into your home.

As the door shut behind him, Harry felt the large chunks of his broken heart that had been severed since he took in that crestfallen look on your face the night he left slowly begin to sew themselves back together. And come back together they would in time. What was twenty-six years, when you get to spend our whole lives together?

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver, @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites Harry Hart tags: @un-education, @lexicon04, @bananzaa, @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness, @newconnorwhodis

#harry hart #harry hart x reader #kingsman #kingsman imagine #harry hart imagine #kingsman the secret service #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

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