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strangernstranger · 1 year

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I’m On Fire | Part 3

Eddie x Fem Reader (Part 1, Part 2 Working on Part 4)

Summary: Your first date with Eddie didn’t exactly go the way he envisioned. As apprehensive as Eddie was to drive you back to the house you had just escaped, he could never say no to you. (Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of abuse and anxiety attacks.)

———

Condensation beaded on the windows of the cozy diner. Muggy heat from the grills sizzled and filled the air with the all encompassing scent of hot grease and something delicious. Truckers slumped over the counter. Their tired eyes looming over black coffee and headlines of the local paper. The toes of your sneakers scraped and rolled against the linoleum as your legs dangled from the red leather of the booth.

Eddie watched you contently, softly smiling to yourself as you drew familiar shapes on the window with your finger. Flowers, stars. The gleam of early afternoon sun saturated your eyes into a beautiful hue. He could stare at you like this for hours. Among the sad excuses of drawings, dripping down the window was a pair of stick figures. You etched little hearts above their heads.

“They’re lovers.” You stated matter of factly. Eddie stared at them for a moment before pressing his pinky to the glass, blessing both figures with matching sets of circle-boobs.

“I support it.” He nodded, satisfied with his contribution.

“Such a child.” You chided happily as you wiped the scene away with your sleeve. Eddie gasped.

“Y/N! I can’t believe you’d be so narrow minded!”

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” The playful back and forth was exactly what you needed to bring yourself out of your own troubled head which is exactly what Eddie wanted. And if that meant being a nuisance to those around you, so be it. Carefully, he tore the paper from one end of his straw, sliding it back just far enough to rest the end between his lips. You watched him skeptically as he wagged his brows at you. One puff of breath and the paper wrapper launched from the end of his straw and directly into the crunchy perm of a woman from an adjacent table. You gasped very audibly, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Look away. Look away.” Eddie demanded in the least demanding way possible. Lightening speed, he twisted his body to the window, acting oblivious and totally innocent. He rested his chin in his hand. A clever ploy so that his fingers could conceal his growing smirk. You clasped your own hand over your mouth. Suppressed giggles shook your shoulders. They grew worse with every shush Eddie uttered. The longer the woman went without noticing, the funnier it was. Unable to contain yourself, you threw your arms up on the table and rested your head, face down between them. Barricading yourself from the scene.

“Way to be discreet.” Eddie teased, leaning over the table to pull the hood of your jacket tightly over your head.

“Hey!” You sprang up and pulled the hood back, leaving your hair tussled and in disarray. Eddie’s eyes were soft on you still. “Wayne said to keep me out of trouble. Remember?”

“I can’t imagine what you might be talking about.” He feigned innocence. Eddie glanced from the corner of his eye, noticing the woman had finally found the paper lodged in her hair. “Okay, for real this time. Don’t look.” He whispered, somehow masterfully controlling his facial expression and nonchalantly taking a sip of his milkshake. You on the other hand were way less cool. You sucked your lips into a tight smile, head dipped low you gingerly tore the wrapper off your straw and focused way too hard on the table. “You are so lame.” Eddie laughed.

The playful teasing and flirtatious smiles weren’t new but somehow, outside the concrete walls of school, they felt more intimate. It proved the way you felt about Eddie was real and not just some crush based on the circumstantial proximity the high school allotted. The way you felt about him carried over into the real world and withstood the weight of your darkest secret. You’d never wanted anyone the way you wanted him. Meanwhile, Eddie fought the urge to hold your hand across the table and you wondered why he wasn’t.

“What’s next on the agenda?” Eddie popped a fry into his mouth. His lips made a comical smack as he sucked the salt off his thumb. “It’s your day, sweetheart. What d’ya wanna do?”

———

“Y’know when I asked what you wanted to do…I meant like…more date stuff.” With his hands clasped around the steering wheel, Eddie shook his head in disbelief. Your stomach twisted with every familiar bump in the pavement. Your heart felt like it was thrashing against the cage that was your chest. Eddie kept a keen eye on you, feeling guilty to be driving you back to that hell-hole. Even if it’s what you wanted. “Y’Okay? We don’t have to do this. I’ve got some cash to spare. We can stop at a thrift somewhere and find you some new clothes if that’s what this is about.”

“No, I need to do this.”

“Wanna explain to me why? I mean, if it’s what you want to do, I’ll be right there with you but…” Eddie looked to you expectantly. You sighed, already feeling silly by your pending admittance.

“It’s stupid…but part of me feels like taking back what’s mine…it’s kind of like taking my life back. Sorta breaking ties? You said this was my first real day of freedom. I wanted to feel truly free. I don’t know…I guess it makes more sense in my head.”

“It’s not stupid at all. I totally get it. And if this is what it takes to free you of that burden, I’m all in.” Eddie knew that getting your things wouldn’t separate you from the years of abuse but if it would make you feel any bit better, maybe it was worth it. Healing has to start somewhere. “It’s just…kinda risky. Y’know?” Eddie was caught between wanting to be the voice of reason and being a complete pushover for you.

“Should be pretty easy. I kept my window unlocked. Just give me a boost and I’ll grab what I need. You can be look-out.” Eddie inhaled sharply through his teeth. It seemed like a decent enough plan but the thought of you being back in that house at all made him uncomfortable.

“Okay, just make it quick.”

You could see the house coming up on the right. You hadn’t been gone long. Only a day. But in that short amount of time, you were able to gain more perspective. Your conversations with Wayne. You’re time alone with Eddie. Things you never would’ve had if you hadn’t have ran. Those things made you realize just how fucked up things had gotten. How needless it all was. Never once had you given your father reason to punish you. Still you were confined by the walls of that house. Prey waiting for your father’s instinct to attack. You were a prisoner in your own home. An undeserving outlet he used to satisfying his need for control by any means necessary. Even at his own daughter’s expense. You observed the paint chipped windows ledges, the algae stain banisters. Was home always this ugly? As the driveway came into view, so did a rust eaten Chevy pickup. A terrible omen.

“Shit! He’s home. We should go.” Eddie was ready to squeal tires in a u-turn to get you the fuck away from there. You clasped your hand around his arm before he even attempted.

“No! I need to do this.” You reiterated. “Just park around the next house.” You may have been scared but the determination you felt was strong enough to carry you through. With a hefty sigh, Eddie parked the van in the empty driveway of a neighboring house. Eddie shut the engine off, turning to you in a stern manner.

“Alright. But you’re not going in alone! Fuck being lookout. I’m going in there incase anything happens.”

———

While your father’s behavior was erratic, he followed patterns. If he was already home it meant he had worked the night shift. He’d be in bed for a couple more hours. No way he could sleep sober so he was likely cemented to the mattress with the help of whisky and or the occasional narcotic. As long as you were quiet, you could slip in and out without notice. You were sure of it. Still, you needed to be strategic in case of any hiccups. Eddie followed you like a lost puppy as you cut through the backyard, avoiding the windows of the livingroom and your father’s bedroom. Once under the window to your room, your placed your finger tips on the glass and pushed up slowly. While it wasn’t exactly silent you doubted its ability to stir your father from his induced slumber.

“Ready?” With his hand on the small of your back, Eddie’s searching eyes scanned you for any hint of apprehension. There was none.

“Yea, ready.” You prepped yourself for the squeeze of Eddie’s arms around your thighs. His cheek rested in the middle of your back. You could feel the heat radiating from him as he lifted you with ease. In any other circumstance, the contact would leave you blushing but your head was far too cluttered with the task at hand to savor the feeling. With one hand against the dingey vinyl siding to steady yourself, you used the other to further push the window open. Slipping inside was easy. Eddie followed suit. One jump and he hoisted himself up the rest of the way, gripping onto the window’s ledge.

You immediately began gathering bags from your closet, stuffing them full of clothes, jewelry and whatever else you could fit. Eddie stood in the center of the floor, taking in the cream colored bedding and pale yellow walls. While there was nothing extraordinary about the room, it was yours. He admired the small details like the whimsied romance novels that sat on your shelf. The records that sat by the hi-fi. Fleetwood Mac and Tom Petty being the most recognizable. He spotted what looked to be a well loved bear laid lonely on your unmade bed. Eddie picked him up, catching his own reflection in its shiny eyes. It was a tiny, little thing. Stomach slightly flatted from what he assumed was years worth of your affection. He stuffed him in the interior pocket of his leather jacket. The little guy needed you. And by the looks of it, maybe you needed him too?

You went over your mental checklist of must haves. It all seemed to be there, but a small momento on the top shelf of your closet called out to you. A music box your mother gave you from years before. You didn’t have much to left of your mother. Just a couple of small trinkets and the nose you inherited from her. But that music box meant a lot to you. It chirped the tune of “You Are My Sunshine.” a song your mother used to sing to you as a child. You kept it in your closet, afraid your father would break it the way he did every picture of her that hung on the walls.

“Ready?” Eddie whispered, the sound being absorbed by the walls and a television broadcasting infomercial from another room.

“Yea. Give me just a sec.” Eddie zipped up the bags, three in total before gently lowering them out the window. Meanwhile, you made yourself tall, stretching your arms upwards to the last bit of your mother you had left. You tipped your finger against the item, scooting it further to the ledge. But with that also came old boxes of shoes you had long since grown out of. You covered your head as they loudly toppled down around you. The music box came crashing to the floor. It’s song began to play like a siren as you heard you father, startled and hurried awake from another room.

“The fuck is there!?” He shouted. Heavy footsteps followed.

“We’re leaving NOW!” Eddie grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the rubble. “Run to the van, I’ll buy us some more time.” Once again, you counted your father’s footsteps the way you always had. There wasn’t much time.

“No! Eddie-”

“I said go!” He pushed you towards the window. You froze in place, staring back at him. The fear winning once again. “Hurry up! Get to the van NOW!” The urgency in his voice snapped you back. In an instant you were climbing back out the window, grabbing your things and making a break for it. Eddie used his weight to scoot the dresser in front of your bedroom door and not a moment too soon. Your father turned and shook the knob violently.

“WHO THE FUCK IS IN THERE!? Y/N!? OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!” The man screamed as he threw his weight into the door. It rattled on the hinges. Eddie’s heart was racing. The fear he felt was instantly replaced with rage. The way he cursed your name infuriated him.

You waited in the van, a sickness coursing through you. Every second lasted entirely too long. Your thumbs pressed into the sides of your index fingers. Leaving behind crescent moon indentation as you waited in agony, terrified that Eddie was still in the house. The shakey breath held in your throat released as you watched him round the corner with a speed you never expected of him. He jumped into the driver seat, disheveled and out of breath. He slammed the keys into the ignition with precision bringing the motor to life.

“EDDIE! ARE YOU OKAY!? WHAT HAPPENED!?” Your wide eyes darted over every inch of him. Looking for any sign of injury or an altercation. Eddie smiled triumphantly.

“What happened? We got away! That’s what fucking happened!” Eddie peeled out of the driveway, his middle finger waving from the window as he tore down your street. “SEE YOU IN HELL, ASSHOLE!”

Your father heard the screech of tires and ran to the living room window, spotting a familiar vehicle speeding down the asphalt…

———

“Woo! That was a fucking rush!” Eddie bounced in his seat to the rhythm of whatever song was playing over the tape deck. He expect you to match his energy, feeling exhilarated by defeating your father once again. Instead you were a mess, shaking and struggling to breath at an even pace.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on sweetheart?”

“I-I can’t- I can’t-” You pressed your hands against your chest as you rocked back and forth in your seat in desperation of a satisfying breath and softer beat of your heart.

“Just hold on!” Eddie pulled into a convenience store parking lot to give you his full attention. No sooner than he put the van in park, he unfastened his seatbelt to get closer to you. “Open your eyes for me? Look at me, please?” You snapped your eyes open to his worried face, inches from yours. A thin line rested between his brows while they pinched together. You were in the midst of an anxiety attack and Eddie was desperate to pull you out of it. He felt a physical ache in his chest seeing you that way. Something he didn’t know was possible. “Shh, you’re okay. We’re out of there, he’s gone and we’re not going back.” He picked up your hands and squeezed hoping the pressure might ground you. “Breathe with me. We’re gonna get through this. It’s gonna pass.” The sun glistened in Eddie’s eyes, warming their umber appearance to a darkened shade of honey. You locked in on them, staring deeply as your chest began to rise and fall at the pace he set. “That’s it. Keep breathing.” He thought further into what he could do to speed up the process. As he shifted in his seat, he felt something soft at his side. Suddenly he remembered. “I uh- I picked something up for you when you weren’t looking.” He fished the stuffed bear out of his pocket, presenting it to you with a saccharine sweet smile. The muscles in your cheeks flinched happily

“Beau?” Your unsteady hands pulled the push animal under your chin. You closed your eyes once more, melting into the comfort of the beloved item.

“Yea…Beau.” He didn’t look like a Beau to Eddie but he figured he’d tease you about it some other time.

“Thank you, Eddie. I was so caught up with everything else, I-I almost forgot about him.” The storm inside you was blowing over. Your breathing no longer labored and heart slowing to it’s natural tempo, you began to relax. Thus, so could Eddie.

“Glad to have you back. Let’s get you and um…Beau home.” ———

Tag List @saramelaniemoon @eddiesguitarskills @whoahoney @erinsingalong @eddie-swhore @cherrycolas-things @idkatee @anislabonis-love @audhd-dragonaut @my-tearsricochet @mrsdollardog @singularattitudeofasafetypin

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson friends to lovers #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x female!reader

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slashmagpie · 6 months

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Blood & Snow

Pt. I

Directory: {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Welcome to my @hermithorrorweek fic! I spent a while trying to figure out seven different fic concepts based on the prompt, and kept coming up blank, up until I decided to combine them all and write a single fic, with each prompt being the theme for a different chapter. Blood & Snow is the result, and at the time of posting it is not quite complete, but I'm excited to share it with you nonetheless. I'm hoping to post a chapter once per day, but later chapters may be delayed depending on how long it takes me to get them written. Some of this builds off concepts I played with in some of my earlier Decked Out 2 ficlets, which you can find in my writing tag. TWs for this chapter include: non-consensual body modification*, unreality*, panic attacks

I. GAME MECHANICS

Game design is simple, really.

Well, no, it’s difficult—but the principles behind it are simple. Make it fun. Make it challenging. Make it rewarding.

Decked Out 2 is a game.

To be more precise, it’s a long-running, deck-building, dungeon-crawling game. It’s competitive. It has rewards—bragging rights, for one. Trophies, for another. If you win, you can get crowns, and buy things to make you more powerful, to make the game more fun. You get frost embers, which are used to build the deck, and—

Clank is Decked Out’s central mechanic. Trigger a shrieker, generate clank. Easy as that. Taking your artefact will also generate clank, because it angers the spirits of the dungeon. That’s another important thing about game design: atmosphere. Design. Having something that feels cohesive. So—no, max clank isn’t quite as dangerous as it should be, but very few mobs would work to replace the vex, because, well, they’re not the spirits of the dungeon, and—

Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. It used to be thirty, but that lined up with card draws, and the sound cues were hard to keep track of. So. Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. Hazard makes the dungeon more dangerous to traverse, by closing doors, raising pathways, and otherwise making certain routes more dangerous or downright impossible to cross. People underestimate hazard at first, but quickly find out that hazard kills. When clank maxes out, that turns into hazard too, because max clank wasn’t dangerous enough by itself, because the vexes aren’t doing their damn jobs—

There were two older systems that got replaced. Not a lot of people know that. Focus could be built up, would synergise with other cards, but it was just—it wasn’t working. It got reworked. No one would miss it. Delve was a difficulty setting, but it was dumb, just press a button to choose your difficulty, that works way better, and—

Game design is simple, really.

Decked Out is not a game.

Had it ever been a game? In its first iteration, back in season seven, had it hungered the way it does now? Had it slept, slumbering beneath the earth, soaking in blood that would slowly, slowly bring it to life? When the idea had wormed its way into Tango’s head, a sequel—had that been his own thought? Does it matter if it was?

He’d certainly thought it was. Began drafting up plans, re-evaluating what he’d done in the past and putting better spins on them. Decked Out 2 would be huge, would be the biggest project he’d ever worked on, but it wouldn’t take that long. Surely.

…Thirteen months later, Decked Out 2 opened its doors.

Thirteen months. It had started as a hole, as many things do. A hole, a build, a plan, a citadel—Tango had thrown himself into it like he would with any huge project. And at first it had been—it had been a project. A build, a game. A giant hole filled with promise. A castle built in a week. Just Hermitcraft things. The usual.

When had it started? When he’d dug, and dug, for hours and hours upon end? When he’d carved jagged-looking scars into the landscape and dragged the citadel up from them? When he’d started building level one? When he’d begun assembling the redstone? When the ravagers and wardens began to roam its halls? When did Decked Out come alive?

…Had it always been alive?

Okay, better question: when did—

A frozen shard is placed into the barrel. The door lights up, sounds play. The door opens. The hermit—Joe?—begins to take off their armour and items and set up the game. A difficulty button is pressed. A shulker is placed into its slot. The cards begin to filter through the system. A minecart ride, and a pressure plate—

Decked Out turns on.

The Dungeon watches carefully, hungrily. A shrieker triggers. A hazard door closes. The game is running, the game is alive, the game is always alive—

The Dungeon Master floats, untethered, bodiless, watching, speaking, unheard, unseen. His body stands in the dark, empty, eyes sightless and lungs unbreathing. Why would he need to breathe? Dungeons don’t need to breathe, after all. Games don’t need to breathe. And Decked Out isn’t a game, not really, but it still works on principles of game design, and none of those principles require the game to breathe.

So the Dungeon watches, and the Dungeon Master watches, and Joe runs straight into the blood-stained horns of a ravager, and—

And—

Tango tries to blink. To breathe. A hazard door slams open and closed. The wires are crossed, that’s not—he needs to go—an attempt to step forward dispenses a stack of frost embers into the dungeon. They’re not supposed to do that. That’s a bug, he needs to fix—

He needs his hands—

Stone walls aren’t fingers, but they flex all the same, groaning under the strain—

There’s an itching in his legs. Skulk creeps up the walls. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t—

It’s dark. A warden sniffs. A shrieker howls. Stone becomes sinew becomes skulk becomes shadow becomes smoke becomes a soul. The Dungeon Master wrenches open his sightless eyes, and the Dungeon sees—

(Buildings aren’t meant to have panic attacks. Neither are dungeons. Nor games. But Decked Out is not a game, never really has been, and Tango—)

Joe and Hypno stare in bafflement at the flickering availability metre outside of the dungeon. “Tango, fix your game!” Hypno cries, and—

Ha.

Here’s a better question: when did Tango become Decked Out?

#magpie feather quill #hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #the *s next to the trigger warnings are because those are the closest words i can think of to describe what is happening #but they're like. not totally right?#i think that if you have issues with ncbm or unreality then you should be careful engaging with this chapter #but i wouldn't say that this chapter necessarily contains ncbm or unreality #idk. it's weird.#also i will update the directory links when i post new chapters lmao

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deepwithintheabyss · 2 months

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writing patterns

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @waffleinator-inator @anawrites3 and @vellaphoria

as I don't have 10 posted fics I'll be sharing some wip lines as well

Stupid Things [Jason/Tim]

Gotham rarely saw such beautiful days as this one.

Catch 22 [Slade/Tim]

Slade grunted satisfied as his release hit him, and pushed his hips almost impossible deeper into the lithe body beneath him. He inhaled once, savoring the feel of hot cum sloshing around his cock, before he leaned back with a deep exhale, so he could smirk down triumphantly at the trussed up little bird. With a half-lidded eye, he drank in the sight beneath him.

Sometimes all it takes is Love and Time [Slade/Dick]

Dick had grown up with rigidous meal plans and a minimum amount of what he should eat. It just came with being someone who was very physical active. This hadn't changed when his parents died and he came under the care of Bruce Wayne, if anything his food intake was only micro-managed more. The man drew up many plans as to how much he should eat if he was to go out as Robin.

Trust bleeds Red [Dick/Tim]

“It’s okay to be scared Tim” he whispers, as he caresses one soft cheek, relishing in the touch of warm skin on his, the way his angry rosy flush contrasts so nicely with Dick’s pale hand. He skillfully ignores the glare being sent his way, as Tim tries to twist away from his cold touch and the eye-contact he’s forcing onto him. “But please don’t fight me on this, I only want what’s best for you”

And when the darkness comes, you shall call my name [Jason & Tim]

Hood grinned under the helmet, breaking into the tower had been a fun challenge, he had debated about if he wanted to test out his old codes but in the end decided against it. He still didn’t know how he wanted the reveal to go exactly so it was better to not give the old man too many hints and give up the game too early.

WIP Sequel to "Trust bleeds Red" [Dick/Tim]

They’re in one of the living rooms when Tim finally breaks.

WIP OJT Week Day 3 [Jason/Tim]

Jason’s body had been trying to kill him ever since he regained clarity in the pit.

WIP Rock Hard Tension [Dick/Tim]

Tim had always been too tense for anything and everything in his life, but he made it work. He did stretches and bending and being a vigilante even if his body screamed and protested him. He learned how to move with and not against his body to keep himself from harm.

running out of good wips to share here 😅

WIP Feral Alpha Tim wooing Omega Jason [Jason/Tim]

Struggling in Ivy's bonds Tim curses his luck. Of course he would get caught on the one night where he really could not deal with this. His brain and patience were equally fried from all the posturing he had to do and put up with in the last few hours. Galas were the worst and in Tims opinion they could all burn in hell, but being a public figure meant he had to attend them and play along, put on a nice face and smile as if he he enjoyed getting his nose assaulted by the posturing alphas and omegas that loved to crowd him for his status alone. And the few that didn't came for his appearance. Alphas crowding him about how he looked like the prettiest O they have ever seen. Talking about how they could give him everything he wanted if he just let them, how he would look so pretty dominated and bent down. How he would make a beautiful bitch.

WIP RedRobinYum [Tim/Any]

Red Robin groaned as Nightwing pushed him across the desk. “Careful,” he whispered, “I'm still quite sore from sparring.”

I know I already reached 10 but because some of these are wips that might or might not get rewritten I'm gonna share 2 more

WIP Waffle Prompt [Jason/Tim/Steph]

Tim groaned when he caught sight of Steph entering the library, she looked around for a second before spotting him and made her way over grinning like the maniac she was. He was sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have whooped as well, drawing the attention of half of the college just so she could embarrass him more.

WIP “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” [Dick/Tim]

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” Dick breathed into Tim’s hair. Tim only grumbled and shifted closer in his sleep, pressing close to Dick. “Come on” he coaxed gently, shaking the sleeping figure softly. Tim grumbled some more, clearly trying to cling to sleep but failing. One eye opened up to glare at him, but the heat of the gaze was tampered by the haziness of sleep still clinging to him. Inwardly, Dick cooed at the fact that Tim felt safe enough around him not to spring to immediate attention at the slightest disturbance.

Already I can tell I like to start with long lines

Wasn't sure if this meant just the first sentence or like the first complete line/paragraph, so I went with paragraph

and I'm tagging uuhhh

@bi-bats @ragnarokhound @littlemourningstarr @cadkitten @zeroducks-2 @disniq and myself because apparently tumblr wants me to do that @deepwithintheabyss ??

#looks at what I wrote #damn it I repeated an ending in the same line how awkward #the abyss speaks #tag game #my writing #writing patterns #and some errors and typos damn it

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cowboyemeritus · 1 year

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Insurmountable Odds (Mary Goore/Reader)

“You know the odds of surviving something like that?” Mary asks. “It’s, like, less than ten percent. You must be a fuckin’ wizard or something.”

Part 2 of "she let me hit because i died and came back wrong." (18+)

Read on AO3

Figured I should give a tw for injury/medical emergencies. Mary gets absolutely wrecked at the beginning of this.

The zap! is loud enough that you don’t hear Mary yell. Either that, or the current travels through him so fast he doesn’t have time for it. What you do hear is a series of gasps from the other side of the bar as they crumple to the floor, dropping the neon beer sign’s frayed cable. You’re kneeling next to your coworker before you can think of your own safety, laying him flat on his back and leaning in to check his breathing. You don’t hear anything, and hastily press your ear to Mary’s chest. Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck happened?” Sid asks, emerging from the kitchen. You’re already starting chest compressions, thankful for all those hours you spent lifeguarding as a teenager. “Oh shit…”

“Get the AED,” you shout, sweat already beading at your temples. You’re pretty sure it’s mandatory for all workplaces to have one, but knowing this shithole, there are no guarantees. “And someone call an ambulance!” There’s some shuffling, and the bell on the front door jingles. Makes sense that patrons would want to get the fuck out of here, but damn, maybe help a girl out? The kitchen doors creak loudly on their hinges, and you pray that Sid finds the first aid kit soon.

You have to fight the urge to vomit when you hear Mary’s ribs start to crack.

“I should have died,” they say, pressing soft lips to the skin of your neck. It’s been about two months since the accident, and Mary has taken it upon himself to give you proper thanks now that he’s fully healed. Although the night started with them taking you out for a meal (a feat made possible by your workplace paying their hospital bill so they wouldn’t sue), the addition of cheap drinks has lead to this conclusion. It’s not the first time you’ve had Mary in your bed, but it feels completely new with the way he handles you so tenderly. He’s been like this since he got out of the hospital, and although it was hard to adjust to at first, who are you kidding? You’ve wanted something like this for a while now — you just didn’t realize it until it was almost permanently out of reach.

“Fuck, Mare.” You let out a strangled moan when they fuck into you particularly hard, skilled fingers drawing circles around your clit. They’ve made you cum two, going on three times now, and you’re straddling the line of overstimulation. He’s working you exactly how you like it, and at this point, you’re about ready to melt into the mattress. Mary smiles against your neck before nipping lightly at the soft skin, and you swear they chuckle at the pathetic sound you make.

“What, babydoll?” They ask. “What do you need? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” The new pet name makes you flush and you arch your back when the head of their cock every so slightly taps at your sweet spot.

“I- oh, fuck!” You both groan as your cunt throbs around him. “Don’t tease me, Goore. You’ve put me through enough anguish already.” Indeed, when Mary isn’t looking at you from across the bar like you’re some sort of supernatural creature, they’re doing everything in their power to get under your skin. Whether it be through whispered compliments he knows you can’t take, or ever so slight brushes against you as he goes about tending to patrons, he’s been slowly nudging you towards the point of no return.

Mary lets out a small hum into your neck. “I’m sorry, baby.” You know he’s not. “You’re just so cute when you get like this, I can’t help myself.”

They’ve never called you that before. You quirk an eyebrow.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Fuckin’ adorable.” Mary shifts slightly so that you’re face to face. You can’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Dying really did a number on you, huh? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d gone soft.” You trail off into a moan when Mary picks up the pace, hammering into you just right.

“Oh, but you like it, don’t you?” You roll your eyes. The alcohol has made it so that you don’t really consider your next words carefully.

“I like you, dumba-“ The realization hits hard and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself. Still, you know it’s too late. Mary flashes you a cocky smile.

“Aaaaand, there it is.” Before you can whip out a response, they’re pressing their lips to yours with a self-satisfied groan.

Fuck it. You wrap your legs around Mary’s waist, begging them to fuck you harder. They get the memo, punctuating each thrust with a swipe at your clit. It doesn’t take long for him to work you over the edge, and you cum in a manner that can only be described as violent. You practically scream into Mary’s mouth as the overstimulation takes hold, your thrashing sending a shudder up his spine. They break away from the kiss to indulge in your desperate moans.

“Fuck, that’s it,” they pant. “Just like that, baby. I can’t get enough of you. Fuck- ah!” Mary pumps into you a few more times before going rigid. For a second, you think he’s re-injured himself, but then he relaxes and kisses you again. You melt into it, sighing into Mary’s mouth. Eventually, they break away and roll off of you, flopping onto their side with a contented noise. They keep one arm slung across your naked torso, you note, and you can’t help but blush when your gaze meets theirs. In his green eyes is that same tenderness you normally see from the other end of the bar, and it’s even more beautiful up close.

“You know the odds of surviving something like that?” Mary asks. “It’s, like, less than ten percent. You must be a fuckin’ wizard or something.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, you know me. I’m a regular necromancer.” For a long moment, the two of you lay there in silence, grinning like the idiots you both are.

“But, seriously,” Mary says, looking you in the eye. Gently, he reaches up to cup your flushed cheek. “Thanks for keeping me alive.” You wave at them dismissively.

“I wasn’t just gonna let you die, Mare.” Suddenly, you can’t meet his gaze. “And I hope you’re not just doing this,” you gesture at your intertwined bodies, “because you feel like you owe me something." Mary shakes his head.

“Not at all. Believe it or not, I actually kinda like you, too. Crazy, I know.” You roll your eyes and swat playfully at his leg, but in your heart you feel nothing but pure excitement.

“So… Was this a date?” For a second, you feel a little nervous, although you’re not exactly sure why. Mary gives you a curious look.

“Did you want this to be a date?” You nod. “Then this was a date.”

You smile. “Cool.”

#my writing #mary goore x reader #the end of this is lowkey so cheesy but i'm high as hell and can't be bothered to write a better ending.#repugnant band

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katiesharms · 2 years

Text

if you let me down, let me down slow - ch. 1

fandom: top gun maverick, pairing: phoenix/hangman

summary: She still doesn’t know what to make of Hangman, after all this time, all these years. They’re not friends, really, not even in the loose way she and Rooster are friends and certainly not in the way she and her friends back home are. But they’re far more than acquaintances, than colleagues. In some ways, they’re closer than she is with some of her family. In others, they might as well be strangers.

read on ao3!

a/n: hi everyone who follows me for bridgerton, i promise it's coming! tgm has just...gripped me. i'm cross-posting this with my ao3, where chap 2 is already also posted. feel free to send me asks/prompts/questions/comments! title from 'what's it gonna be' by shura, a great song for this dynamic

Phoenix has a recurring dream that the brakes on her car don’t work.

She’s not sure, exactly, when they started. She assumes it was sometime between getting her license at 16 and leaving for the Academy, but she can’t remember, can’t pin it down to a specific date. But the dream is always the same. She’s driving through a familiar section of her hometown, on the highway from the pizza place to her house. And she’s speeding, because she always speeds, but the light is red all of a sudden. So she slams on the brakes, as hard as she can, and it works, at first. The car slows down, drastically. But it doesn’t stop. She’s pressing on the brakes with all her strength and she can feel it, can feel the way they clench underneath her, can hear the screech of them against her tires. But it’s not enough. The car slows down, but it never stops, inching forward past the red light and into the intersection.

She always wakes up before anything happens. Before she’s hit or hits something.

This recurring dream is why she currently can’t sleep. It woke her up, shocking her with adrenaline. She awoke panting, clammy from sweat, momentarily confused. That’s dangerous, she knows. To be a loud waker, in her line of work. So she took a few calming breaths and surveyed her surroundings. Determined that she was in her temp housing the Navy put them in during this recall, that Halo was still snoring quietly below her.

Natasha knew she should just try to go back to sleep, an early start the next day, but she couldn’t. Her body is full of momentum, of unrealized motion from her dream. So she roused herself as quietly as possible and made her way out of her room.

It’s well past midnight, and leaving the base at this time draws more scrutiny than it’s worth, which is how she’s found herself in the common room, dismantling the old radio there. She’d always loved machines, and the technical aspect of flying has always come easier to her than to most others. When Mav threw the manual in the trash on their first day, she has to stop herself from physically wincing. It’s why she joined the Academy, at first. A cheap way to get an engineering degree. She just hadn’t expected to fall in love with flying.

It’s nearing two in the morning, and with everyone expected at the 0800 lecture the next morning, Natasha’s expecting to spend the next hour or so in peace. The universe seems to have other plans.

“Is there a reason you’re playing Inspector Gadget at 2 am?”

She looks up and finds the last person she expected to see: Jake Seresin. She’d figured that he either spends his nights with a different girl every time or deep in his beauty sleep. She certainly didn’t think he’d be here, watching her fiddle with the ancient tech, an unreadable look on his face.

“I think I can boost the signal.” It’s not an answer but he wasn’t really asking a question. Phoenix doesn’t think she has the bandwidth to deal with Hangman at the moment, and she’s quietly hoping that, if she doesn’t engage him like she usually does, he’ll just leave.

Instead, he walks further into the room, dropping onto the couch across the table from her. He picks up one of the wires that she hasn’t reconnected yet and starts playing with it. She resists the urge to slap it out of his hand like he’s a kid.

She still doesn’t know what to make of Hangman, after all this time, all these years. They’re not friends, really, not even in the loose way she and Rooster are friends and certainly not in the way she and her friends back home are. But they’re far more than acquaintances, than colleagues. In some ways, they’re closer than she is with some of her family. In others, they might as well be strangers.

She’s known him for over ten years now. He’s maybe the person she’s known the longest, that she’s not related to. He was a year ahead of her on the Academy, and then was in flight training at the same time as her. And when she got to TOPGUN, he’d been the top pilot from the previous class and was there to help instruct. Then, they flew together, intermittently over the years. She’s actually seen him more often than she’s seen Rooster.

She’d hated him, mostly. He was arrogant and dangerous, the worst combination. But over the years, their relationship has thawed more, became more understanding. When you’re in the top 1% of all aviators, there’s very few people who understand your life. And when you’re called back for a top-secret suicide mission, that number shrinks to something impossibly small.

It’s also hard to hate him, surprisingly. As much of a dickhead as he is, he also cares, deep down. Once, in flight training, she did one too many barrel rolls trying to show off (sometimes she can admit that she’s just a little arrogant, too) and almost lost control of her plane. She stabilized quickly, but afterward, she had to rush to the bathroom to puke. He found her there and didn’t say anything, didn’t brag or lord it over her. Instead, he offered her a Gatorade (almost impossible to find on base) and some gum and told her that he was impressed. When they were stationed together in Japan, he was the only other person willing to go with her to the hole-in-the-wall food places, to try some stuff that might’ve still been living. When his date for his brother's wedding canceled last minute, Phoenix went with him, met the whole Seresin clan.

He’d been different there, more reserved. She thinks she left that weekend understanding him better. No one in his family even called him Hangman, and sometimes, it’s like they forgot he was there. His family is so big, Hangman himself the youngest of 5, and she could see it. How he grew up fighting for space, finding a way to stand out.

She doesn’t like to think about what he could’ve learned about her the one time he met the Traces, when they visited her for her 30th birthday at Lemoore. Like Jake, like everyone, she’s a bit different around the people who’ve known her for her whole life.

So yeah, they’re close. But Hangman still sets her teeth on edge sometimes, especially after days like today, when he had to go and tell the whole class about Bradley’s dad. Like that’s any of their business. He seems to live to push other people's buttons, like he’s constantly chasing the high of flying while on the ground.

“What, you don’t need tools?” His voice draws her attention back to him and she resists the urge to glare.

“Nah, nimble fingers.” She doesn’t mention the small flathead screwdriver she found in one of the drawers, which, without it, would make the whole task impossible. On a base where everyone’s a least partly a mechanic, you can’t walk three feet without hitting a tool.

“I’m sure.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Phoenix rolls her eyes. There’s no heat in it, though.

“Really, though, Trace,” he continues, “what are you doing awake?”

She shrugs, remaining focused on the task in front of her. When she holds out a hand, palm facing up, he understands implicitly what she’s asking and places the wire he was playing with into her outstretched hand.

“Couldn’t sleep, weird dream. What are you doing up, missing important beauty sleep?”

Hangman’s silent for a bit too long and she can feel his eyes on her.

“Also couldn't sleep,” he answers eventually, but she can tell he’s holding something back. Maybe that’s what he heard in her voice, too.

“Anything, in particular, keeping you up?” he asks, and she really wishes he’d just leave her alone.

“You mean besides the near-impossible mission that we’re all here training for and the fact that it’s basically a suicide mission?” The radio is almost done, so she decides to twist the knife, just for something to do. “I mean, for anyone lucky enough to be paired with you, it’s a certain suicide mission.”

“Ah, Phe, cmon. You know I'd never leave you behind. You’re the only one of those fuckers who can actually keep up with me.”

“Right, which is why you left me for dead against Maverick.” The radio’s done now, and she fiddles with the knobs experimentally. It lands on a classic country station and she lets the quiet sounds of Johnny Cash wash over the room. It sounds much better than before, all the static pretty much gone.

“You still mad about that? Or is this cold shoulder treatment because I riled up your little boyfriend?”

She doesn’t even bother to correct him about Rooster, knowing it’s more a harmless joke than anything. Instead, she takes him in, truly.

He looks tired, more tired than she would’ve expected based on his energy. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable, and his skin looks a little ragged. There’s stubble along his jaw that she knows he'll shave tomorrow before class and he’s wearing pajamas, a white t-shirt, and some striped pants. She’s beginning to wonder, for the first time since he came in, why he’s really awake.

“What you did was supremely shitty and you know it. Bringing up someone’s father when you don’t know the whole story is an asshole move, even by Bagman standards.”

His jaw clenched and she thinks she’s got him. She knows why he can’t sleep: guilt.

“You know what I think?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I think you’re just upset Chicken Little didn’t tell you himself. That you had to find out with the rest of us.”

She sucks a breath in through her nose and tries to not react too strongly to that. Truthfully, Natasha is hurt that Rooster didn’t tell her about his dad earlier. That she didn’t know about Maverick and all this shit until a day into training. But she knows that Hangman is only bringing this up to deflect, to get under her skin.

“He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want any of us to know. I know that empathy’s a foreign concept in your world, but maybe spend a couple minutes thinking about how your actions affect other people.”

She’s ready to leave it at that, getting up and walking toward the door. But Hangman reaches out as she passes him, his hand closing around her forearm. It’s gentle enough that she could pull out of it if she really wanted to, but something about the look in his eyes gives her pause. She turns her body towards him, allowing him to keep his hand wrapped loosely right above her wrist.

“I didn’t know that he and Maverick actually hate each other.” It’s not an admission of wrong, but it’s the closest she knows she’ll get out of Hangman. She can tell that he feels bad, even if he’ll never say so out loud. It’s a bit too late for her to act as his emotional interpreter, though. Or maybe it’s too early.

“Jake,” she starts and she doesn’t miss the way his face softens at that, “this whole mission is about flying out of our minds, but it’s also about being a team. As hard as it is to believe, I know you’re not being a dick on purpose. Maybe work on trying not to be one on accident.”

She leaves at that, pulling away from him gently. As she walks back to her room, she realizes she never told him about her dream.

Their 0800 meeting ends up being Maverick telling them to take the morning off and meet him at the beach for “special training” at 1300. She’s more than a little pissed that she could be in bed instead, and catches Hangman’s eyes across the aisle and sees he’s equally annoyed.

When they’re dismissed, most of the group heads back to their rooms for some nap time, and a few others decide to get some gym time in. Phoenix is, despite everything, too awake to head back to sleep so she turns to Bob to see if he wants to hit the gym or something.

“I was actually thinking of heading into town for breakfast, if you want.”

She’s never been a huge breakfast fan but she can spot Hangman walking towards them out of the corner of her eye, so she agrees easily and starts ushering them out.

They end up at a breakfast burrito place that Bob found his first time at TOPGUN. When she bites into hers, she thanks her lucky stars for Southern California.

“So, Bob,” she says around a bit of chorizo, “how did you get your callsign?” She’s been wondering since he told them, and she knows it’s not some shit like Baby on Board that Hangman was trying.

“Oh, uh,” and her WSO flushes a deep red. Phoenix is immediately intrigued, widening her eyes in interest. “In flight school, I would take showers super early in the morning, so I was always alone. I would, uh, blast music and sing along, since there was no one around.

“One morning, I thought I was alone but a few guys came in that I didn’t notice. And they heard me rap the entire of Bombs Over Baghdad by Outkast.”

“No fucking way.” Phoenix's jaw is practically on the ground, burrito abounded in front of her.

“Yeah, and ya know, it fits with the whole bombs part and me being a WSO. And, well, my name being Robert. So it stuck. I don’t like telling people, though, because they always ask me to do it.”

Phoenix clamps her mouth shut; she was DEFINITELY going to ask him. As if he can read the expression on her face, Bob speaks again.

“If you get us home in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, Bob, that’s a guarantee.” She’s positively gleeful now.

“What about you?” He asks and then takes a sip of his Sprite.

“Can I rap a seminal 90s anthem? No.” Well, she has a few bars of Gin and Juice under her belt, but she’s not admitting that now.

“No, how’d you get your callsign?”

“Ah,” she tilts her head like she’s about to let him in on a big secret. “One night, we were all out getting drunk off our asses at some tiki bar.” Bob's eyes widen like he can tell where this is going.

“Anyway, I was completely out of it, many, many, tequila shots in, and I may have…knocked over one of the lamps. Why they would use real fire at this bar, I don’t know, but it toppled over onto our table and lit the tablecloth on fire. Everyone was fine, and a staffer extinguished it pretty quickly. But the next morning, I was the first one to class, not a sign of a hangover. So, she who rises from the ashes was born.”

“That’s…impressive.” He looks like he means it, too, a real expression of awe on his face.

Phoenix shrugs. She’s proud of it but likes to keep an air of humility around her about it. She’s also leaving out the key detail that it all almost went to shit. When the torch first hit the table and the fire caught, she’d been frozen in fear, watching the flames engulf the table. It was as if it was happening to someone else, a scene she was watching from outside her body. She didn’t back away, even as the heat of the flames began to lick up her face, down her arms.

Then, suddenly, she was a few feet away, the cold night air washing over her body. When she looked up, it was Hangman, still just Jake then, who’d pulled her away, his arm still wrapped around her middle. He wasn’t looking at her, though, instead talking to the employee who’d come out with the fire extinguisher. When he walked into class the next morning, neither of them brought it up, just acknowledging each other with a look of mutual respect. That’s really when their relationship started to shift.

She and Bob finish their breakfast quickly after that, chatting idly about their families and the mission. After, she makes her way back to base and collapses for a few hours, the burrito making her sleepy enough for a nap. When she wakes up, Halo is back, spraying sunscreen on her arms and dressed in workout clothes.

Base is a few miles from the beach, so they all have to split rides between the couple of them who have cars. Rooster takes his Bronco, but Payback claims the passenger seat, citing his height. So Phoenix crams into the back with Fanboy, Bob, and Halo. The rest of them are split between Jake’s pickup and Yale’s sedan.

Dogfight football turns out to be the most fun Phoenix has had in months. It feels good to use her body for something silly, to use her strength to hurl a football down the beach or tackle Coyote to the ground rather than to just withstand G-force. The rest of the pilots feel it too, the elation of physical activity that’s just fun and not work, and soon, no one’s keeping score. Or, at least that’s what they say, but she can tell from the calculating look in his eyes that Hangman is still keeping track. She is too, but she’ll never admit it.

After they wind down, Maverick long gone, somewhere with the pretty barkeep from the Hard Deck, people start branching off. A bunch of them cram into Rooster’s Bronco to head off to some bar now that the Hard Deck is closed, so there goes Phoneix’s ride. A few more take Yale’s sedan back to base, and even if there was room, Phoenix isn’t in the mood to head back yet.

As cliche as it is, she loves the sea. It’s part of what keeps her coming back, re-upping her service, the lure of the ocean. Being locked on a carrier for months on end is most people’s least favorite part of the Navy but she doesn’t mind it. She finds it calming, looking out and seeing nothing but the water. So she lays down, closing her eyes and resting her head on the sand and listening to the waves lap the shore.

She feels the body settle next to her rather than hear it. Like all of them, training has made Hangman stealthy, quiet when he wants to be. She doesn’t say anything but she leans her body towards him slightly, an unspoken welcome.

“So who won?” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to be keeping score. It was about team building.”

She snorts. “You and I both know that friendly competitions are still competitions.”

“Then I think you know the answer,” he says begrudgingly, and Phonenix almost beams at the quiet admission that it was, in fact, her team that won. Pretty handidly, too.

She and Hangman have been competing for a while, everything from darts to career milestones. He was a year ahead of her in the Academy, but they got to flight training at the same time. Then he made TOPGUN before her, if only by a couple of months. She led her first mission a year before Hangman, but he got his first kill while she’s still waiting on hers.

It’s a quiet, private competition, different from the dick-measuring contest he has with Rooster. But it’s a competition all the same, born from years of forced proximity and often being the two most competent people in the room. When you want to be the best, you need to find the next best to push you. She and Hangman have been switching off as one and two for the better part of a decade.

“How are you getting home?” he asks from beside her and she can feel his breath on the side of her face, evidence of both his proximity and how he’s turned his head towards her. “Chickadee already left.”

“I was gonna take a cab or something. Maybe walk; it’s only a few miles.” She honestly hadn’t thought about it yet.

“That’s stupid; I’ll drive you.” His southern accent is starting to shine through, and the whole thing reminds her of chivalry.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll probably hang out here for a while more and I don’t want to hold you up.”

“I’ll wait.”

There’s something in his tone that makes her turn towards him, and when she does, he’s looking away, shifting in the sand like he just admitted something he wishes he hadn’t. She narrows his eyes. Maybe he did.

“How long have you been waiting?” she asks carefully, and the tips of his ears turn pink. It’s silly enough that she wants to giggle.

“I was ready to go home the minute they all piled into that stupid Bronco to go get drinks. But I figured if he was your ride back, you might be stranded.”

“Trying to outrun your callsign, Hangman?” she teases, too thrown to do anything else.

“Hey, we’re on solid ground right now. Let’s check back in when we’re in the air.” She decides to leave it that, and shifts to sit up to watch the sun start to lower over the Pacific, hugging her arms around her legs. Hangman follows suit, leaning his shoulder against hers as he leans back.

As the silence stretches between the two of them, Phoenix thinks about her friendship with the two men. Her’s with Rooster is more obvious, more public. He’s kind to her outright, empathetic to her problems. But she doesn't hear from him for months at a time, he ditches her on the beach, he only told her about Maverick, the most important man in his life that’s still alive, because he was forced to.

And Jake annoys her on a good day and makes her feel murderous on a bad one. But he’s sitting here, watching the sunset, because he wants to make sure she gets home okay. He texted her on her birthday and on the anniversary of her father’s death. Is this what friendship is? Can they both be friendship, even if they look wildly different, and none of them look like her relationship with Halo or Payback or even Bob?

It’s all confusing, more so than it's ever been. The last time the three of them were in the same place for an extended period of time was at the tail-end of Bradley’s stint at Lemoore, when Jake was just starting. Natasha had stuck closely to Rooster during those couple of months, the animosity he felt towards Hangman sometimes a physical presence. She figured that if she had to pick a side, Rooster’s would always be the one she chose. He, as a baseline, was at least nice to her. Now, though, it’s all mixed up. And it's really not the time to be thinking about it.

“C’mon,” she says as she stands up and brushes the sand off the backs of her legs. The sun is halfway down, the sky a brilliant mix of pink and orange. “Let’s head back. If you stop at In-N-Out, your burger’s on me.”

“Don’t you want to wait for the sun to fully set?” Hangman asks, but he’s standing too, searching his pockets for his keys.

“Nah,” she turns towards where he parked. “Always leave on a high note, right?”

#my writing #top gun maverick #tgm #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #hannix #(?)#i think that's the tag #top gun fanfiction #hangman x phoenix #phoenix x hangman

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silkythewriter · 1 year

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Match up for Black Butler and/or Sally face?

Im nonbinary (masc, he/they) and pan, 5'1 ginger with a really bad buzzcut. I mostly wear baggy clothes and hoodies but like to dress formally every now and then. My main intrests consist of reading, collecting stuff and drawing. Sometimes I get to engaged in my art and end up staying up really late and sitting at the same spot for like 2+ hours. I can tend to be really stubborn and hate admitting that other people are right. Im mostly anti-social when with strangers and have a hard time talking to others , but when im with friends im complely different and basicly the weird energetic one in the friend group. I'm really bad at dealing with stress and dark thoughts. My love language is gift giving and I tend to go all out for gifts for my loved ones. I prefer compliments and words of assurance over gifts.

I hope that was okay!! It's like 3 in the morning and im really bad at writing so theres probably a few spelling errors and thing that dont make sense ;-;

Summary: match up for black butler and sally face!! :D.

Small warning!: AHHH TYSMM this is gonna be my second match up and as you’ve seen I’m not the greatest but not the worst at them so I hope you enjoy!

Small note!: I do art aswell!!! I enjoy it but only as a hobby cause I know how difficult it is, I love drawing random characters for fun! That’s all i wanted to say! I hope you Enjoy

Fandom!: Black butler/sally face

Daily song suggestion!:

youtube

Black butler: you got

Grelle!

Your guy’s personality is very…. Different to say the least, ovo💧But somehow complete each other in a way!

They love when your in the mood to dress formally! And trust me they go all out, they probably have a walk-in closet of sorts so definitely has a whole section for you! They just find you so breathtaking and absolutely loves fashioning you up! <3

Considering that they are roughly around 5’9 or 5’8 makes them taller then you, they love Tessin about the height difference but it’s all for just laughs and giggles, if they do end hurting your feelings by accident though they would think they’ve committed the worst act possible so expect a lot of apologizes and big acts of service like cooking you meal!(if they don’t end up burning the whole place down💧 (*-3-*)

Once they figure out you do art they’ll literally beg for you to draw them, like they’ll keep asking to you cave and do it and inc you do they’ll make sure to keep it with them forever, probably carry’s it around in their wallet or pocket! Someone times they just randomly takes it out and stares at it is it weird? A bit but you’ll have to get use to it because they do it a lot 🤷‍♀️

They hate admitting that their in the wrong and are quite stubborn themselves so trust me when you guys get into fights it takes a bit for someone to say sorry, you’ll be the one that’ll mostly have to do it though cause trust me they can hold a grudge

On another note though! Whenever someone tries disagreeing with you or say your in the wrong wrong their all already behind you and defending you even if you the one in the wrong they’ll keep fighting with the person till they back down or leave 💀

They’re love language is mainly acts of service or physical touch but they also adores any compliments!, they basically drowns you with compliments daily all ranging form you looking absolutely ravishing today to how beautiful you draw and much more!, also they absolutely love when you buy them gifts cause you always know what they want! <3

They’ve seen how long you spend perfecting your art so sometimes they force you to take a break or get some beauty sleep with them, or sometimes they just watch you do your thing while they admire you from afar cause they genuinely think you look absolutely gorgeous when your focus they find pretty adorable to be honest,

They aren’t not the most social butterfly but definitely doesn’t mind chatting away with strangers when their in a human disguise, but they do know how uncomfortable you get sometimes so they almost always find a way or excuse to pull you away from a uncomfortable social interaction, but they absolutely love seeing you happy around your friends and how energetic you get! But they do have to admit sometimes they can get jealous by that’s besides the point ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

Even if it does or doesn’t fit him he always steals your baggy clothes mainly shirts and hoodies, he just loves the scent they give off of you and also they’re very comfy so can’t blame them v(-ㅂ-)v they most definitely has a pile of stolen hoodies of yours that they wear when they moss you or when your gone

Extra<3: they love when you brush your Fingers through their hair or let them message your scalp, they love how close you guys have to get to do it, they just find it comforting oh! Also they are very clingy so I wish you luck with that -v-💧overall they love you and you guys go perfect with each other even if your different!

Sally face: you got

Sal!

Now he is almost exactly like you to be honest but there are some key differences!

He isn’t very social himself so he understands your pain and discomfort really, sometimes things get really awkward when he has to talk to people cause of his mask so he can understand why it’s pretty uncomfortable, he’ll try his best to help you but honestly he’d just get Larry to distract them while you guys sneak away

He has some baggy clothes but not many, but he’d gladly let you borrow them if you really wanted it, he doesn’t mind to be honest though they do probably have some soda stains and some cat hair 💀

Loves spending time with you as you worked on some art and drawing , he doesn’t mind pulling an all nighter with you! But he does force you to bed sometimes for your own heath benefit

He doesn’t mind you being stubborn and won’t force you to ambit anything but sometimes it does take him awhile to figure out how to calm Situations down whenever you get in a fight or argue with someone. He does force you to apologize sometimes so that might be a down side -v-💧

Your always invited to hang out with sal and the others but do expect a lot of teasing from them after they realized you were together. They’d always tease you both about how sal is always following you around like a shadow. He honestly doesn’t mean to he just enjoys being around you :(

He enojoys any gifts you give him or anything at all it can be a small bottle cap and he’d treat it as if it was a 10k ring so trust me anything you give to him he’d enjoy greatly, he even has a little box full of stuff you got him! He enjoys looking through it whenever you guys are together and discussing how you got it and the day you gave it cause he really treasures those moments together as cheesy as it sounds! But it’s true!

About the dark thoughts and stress he isn’t all that good either at dealing with it due to all the trauma he endured at such a young age so he understands where your coming form and understands how dark some days get, so whenever you need him to vent or just for comfort he’s there with you! Or if you just want some space for yourself he’ll make sure to check up on you but keep his distance and makes sure no one else bothers you, your very important to him so he’ll do anything to make sure your okay ˉ̞̭(′͈∨‵͈♡)˄̻ ̊

To be honest he’s not the best at giving compliments and such but he tries his best! Any art work you have digital or physical hed try complimenting it and also tries seeing if he can keep some of your old pieces of work you have cause he genuinely loves them!

After a while like I’d say 3 to 4 years of dating he’s show you his face is it a long time? Yes but please keep in mind how he views his face negatively and has some insecurity’s about it so if your patient and willing to stay around for long he’d trust you enough to show you!

Extra!: even if you don’t know how to he’ll make you do his pigtails and even if their messy he isn’t taking them off cause it’s from you! So he now enjoys it 30x more <3.

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ceejaykayess · 8 months

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The long awaited sequel! Super-cute Cyber-girl AI-Ball Ene, at your service! I kid, I kid, I know no one saw the last post, because it didn’t get posted under the tag for some reason… ah well, second try’s the charm.

After hearing that next year’s Dazecon would be our last, it sorta kicked my ass into gear to get some more of these Kagepro ideas off my chest and onto paper. So, Ene, our deuteragonist to our beloved protagonist (derogatory).

I had a lot of thoughts ever since the first picture on how I wanted to draw Ene’s cyber form. Given Aiba and Tama’s designs, we have something of a base to work off of, but we need at least one more game for me to confidently declare what is and isn’t a pattern. What we can easily tell, at least, is that AI-Balls have white hair and and dress in mostly black and white. And while Ene does do the latter, she… doesn’t do the former. Why? Well… maybe you can figure it out?

But in terms of her design, while I mostly stick to her regular design, the things I want to point out (because it might not be super obvious with my image quality) are the glowing strands in her hair, a blue one in her fringe, a red one in her left pigtail, and a white one in her left. I suppose you could call them remnants of what should have been… I also want to point out her outfit- it’s skin-tight from the neck to the waist, the skirt being a part of the bodysuit. The sleeves are, almost ironically, like Miku’s in that they’re detachable. And the most AI-Ball feature to her are the tech veins that compose her legs, as opposed to generally lacking them as in most Kagepro material.

I made Ene’s gel form a rabbit, in consideration of those mini-sketch comics I read yonks ago that drew Ene’s pigtails as being like hands for her since hers are in her sleeves always. Also, I thought it’d be funny if the first time Shintarou saw it, he’d consider renaming her to Tono in honour of his rabbit.

In case it’s hard to read, the shocked Ene in the top right is saying, “Master! MASTER! Oh no, he can’t hear me, he’s wearing his Raycon:tm: Earbuds, supremely comfortable for all your needs-” The little sketch in the bottom right, of Shintaro face down in bed and Ene in rabbit mode on his bedside table, reads, “Get the fuck up Master, we’re goin’ to the amusement park today!” “Ene, I’m dying…”

Here's a link to the first picture of Shintaro that never posted properly. And here's a link to the follow-up Yaki picture.

How long had she been wandering? She wasn’t really sure. Sure, if she looked at a calendar, or even just the UI on near anyone’s digital device, she’d see that it had been a year, more even. But that wasn’t really what she meant.

When she first opened her eyes, she had a purpose. She wasn’t wandering- she was seeking. She wasn’t on a Journey, she was on a Quest. She had to find them, had to know what happened to them, because if she were here, like this, then the others, then he had to be-

But though she had a Quest, she had to figure it out, her newfound capabilities, how to parse the sheer amount of information that tried to force its way around her, through her, tried to twist the information that made up herself-

And by the time she had come to a balance with her newfound self, body made of numbers and pixels instead of blood vessels and organ systems, what she had been seeking had become old news, hearsay that was washed under the waves of time and new information and new tragedies and new things for people to talk about. The longer it took, the deeper the information was buried, and the deeper it was buried, the longer it would take for her to come and go.

But eventually, after months and months, 8 months and 17 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes and 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds, she had bounced from Wiki article to Wiki article, dug through news archives, dragged herself through Towitter discussions and arguments dated around that August 15th, and a bit after, she had learned and pieced together thus: Three people were marked as dead. 14 people were injured, 9 of which being detained as members of the syndicate that caused the explosion. There was no mention of who died, or even of the state their bodies were in. There was no specific mention of their fourth, her annoying kouhai who was so bitter, who brought everyone down despite his brilliance, who everyone loved despite his acidic tongue and obvious disdain, who she hated because of how much it felt like she were looking at a mirror, her kouhai who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by rubble and mumbling things she could barely understand being in such a terrible state herself-

She felt herself lose it, the desperate, fickle hope she held in her oversized jumper, because what does it matter? For all intents and purposes, she was dead. As far as she was aware, as far as anyone was aware, her best friend was, too. Maybe even her kouhai. And her-

And-

That kind boy, the one that irritated her so, the one that she wanted to see every day, the one that made her feel this terrible, terrible way, he too is-

Gone. They’re all gone. So what’s the point? Her Quest was over. And she couldn’t even delete herself, backspace over the 1′s and 0′s that composed her new existence. She was too much of a coward to throw herself at a virus and let it have its way with her. She could just stay here until eventually this webpage rotted away, but the longer she stayed in proximity to this information, to this reminder, the more she felt like she needed to expel the non-existent contents of her non-existent stomach. So she ran. She left. She tried to separate herself from her name, from the life that could no longer be hers, that simply was no longer.

She wandered.

How long had she been wandering?

…

Long enough that she felt nostalgic, at least. Long enough that she’s actually contemplating her current course of action, long enough that she’s following through on that course even as she contemplates the wisdom.

Her current location, digitally, was in the mainframe of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Her destination was downstairs, 5 floors underground in fact. The Advanced Brain Investigation Squad. Her… former squad, to put it a way. She followed along the flow of data from the routers to the elevator, holding and holding and holding on to the connection as she sunk deeper and deeper and deeper until she felt like she might actually suffocate despite not needing air, before feeling the next router and leaping for it, bringing her all the way down to the abyss.

Taking in deep gasping breaths of nothing that still let her feel like a human, she looked around. The ABIS mainframe wasn’t anything special. Tunnelled far as hell away from anything else, sure, but nothing special. So much for the stupid old man and his so-called “professional coding skills”. Feh. She’s seen message boards with more interesting encryption.

Despite her trash-talking, she still looked around curious as she wandered deeper. Jumping from computer to computer, camera to camera, she saw how much the place had changed in the last year. Or rather, how little it didn’t. It was like she had never left. Eventually she came across a concrete room with a familiar sense of decoration that made her want to spit and laugh and scream and cry-

Which was immediately blown away when she looked down on the room’s occupants. There was, of course, the room’s owner and decorator, with his scruffy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, holding his iconic lab coat rather than wearing it, glasses askew and face looking as if he hadn’t slept or washed his face for days. His cybernetic eye, pupil the same as his remaining brown one, stared deep into the eyes of the person that had her stopping short, looking again, re-evaluating and readjusting, checking the feed and the system and refreshing everything, video and audio, again and again, just to make sure she wasn’t being deceived, that the person she was seeing was really who she thought he was.

“-is that understood, Shintaro?” “…I understand, old man.”

His voice was somehow more unbearable than usual, his face lacking its usual stern and uncaring look. It was loose, and flabby. Like he didn’t even care enough to pretend to not care. Instead of the red coat her best friend was so fond of, or even the black suit he was partial to, he stood in just a white shirt, arms bare. He was missing an eye, a scar covering the eyelid, one that made her think of a boy reluctantly in red, facedown in a puddle of the colour.

“Oi, I told you already, call me Boss, y’got it brat!?” “Mm.”

Barely acknowledging him, he turned away, making his way out of Boss’ Office, as the namesake would have you call it. Without thinking, she began to follow after him, but was stopped when she heard the old goat mutter something.

“Give me strength, Ayaka…”

Whispering the pained prayer, the man she always thought of as an unreliable lout that only ever got moving when he was being put under threat stood, donning his lab coat and fixing his glasses. Reaching into it, he withdrew a small sphere, chockful of electronic components- very similar to the one in his own eye, actually… or rather, based on it. He gave it a long look, and so did she. What was he planning…? Her musing was broken by his clenching of his fist and replacing the orb, muttering tomorrow as he moved out of the room- down the hallway and towards his lab. The opposite direction of Shintaro.

Shintaro.

Almost without thinking, she turned around, searching for the apathetic genius, that damn ikemen that couldn’t take a hint for the life of him. The hallway was lonely, and he was never very fast, so she caught him easily halfway towards the elevator. She hesitated. She had already seen more than she expected, more than she even wanted. She had expected the old man. Hell, maybe some part of her even expected to see reference to the others, pictures maybe. She hadn’t even gotten to look at their old workplaces, at her old work bench where she fiddled with her Evolver- she didn’t even know if her Evolver was still around.

But she hadn’t expected a man, no, a brat she thought was dead to be walking around with the living. She shouldn’t follow him. She wanted to check on her Evolver, see if Mr. Tateyama had improved on anything in the last year, see if the three of them are still remembered. She doesn’t even like Shintaro that much anyways, if he knew she was spying on him he’d just scold and scream at her like the ungrateful punk he is-

But even so, she follows him anyways. Jumps to the data in his phone, barren and new, clenched in his hand. She’s only doing this because the other two would have wanted her to. Not because she wants to.

And so, she watches as he rides the elevator, not once glancing at his phone. She watches as he hails a cab and asks for an address that, after a quick search, she finds is set in Tokyo, not Chiba. She watches as he sits silently through the whole ride, rudely ignoring his chauffeur’s attempts at conversation and instead looks with almost a sad look at the cityscape passing him by. She watches as he pays the driver, walks up to the rundown looking building, sighs, and opens the door. She watches as he nods at the tired 30-something reclining against a couch in the foyer, walking up the stairs until he comes up to a door. And she watches as he silently pulls out a key, opens the door, and skulks to his room. She can’t see anything else out of the narrow view the phone’s camera offers her, but it looks like he’s trying to be quiet. Could there… be someone else here?

And eventually, he enters a dark room. He makes for the bed in the corner, planting himself on the mattress, and looks down. In his hands, his phone, and thus she, face towards him. He looks into the screen, and for a moment she felt panic. Did he see her? What was she going to say? How does she explain it- anything? Would he even care? As she opened her mouth, prepared to speak through the microphone-

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He rubs his eyes, and places the phone down. Whatever he does next is a mystery, as the phone she’s in is can only see up and down, and half of that is unavailable to her on a flat surface. She feels out, and finds a computer to connect to. She shuffles over, and finds herself in a much roomier space. Taking care not to activate the screen, she peeks through the camera to see… him, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She stared at him for what must have been a reasonable time before turning away- she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, not like this, and not without announcing herself, which- she still hasn’t thought on whether she actually wanted to, let alone how. So, instead of being productive and thinking on it, she turns back to the files on his computer and, invasion of privacy be damned, went scrounging.

His internet history, nothing but 2channel, various forums she also used to browse, anime piracy websites, and the occasional risque website search. She held back on this occasion, she didn’t need to know. Yet. Around certain dates, he would even search up strange things like gift ideas or idol showing tickets. Weirdo.

Outside of his history, there’s his documents. A lot of deleted drafts, the occasional downloaded risque image (legs, huh? Is that why she had always…?), and a lot of editing software. A lot of editing software. What was all this…? She found unfinished music projects, which she wouldn’t dare listen to while he’s still here. Poems that trailed off, half-thought out lyrics written here and there. The occasional poorly drawn picture, and… photos. Lots and lots of photos. Some in a file labelled “Never forget.” Others labelled in a file called “Never forgive.” The former was full of pictures of… them. Shintaro, and her, and… and Ayano, and Haruka, their faces ones she hadn’t even realised she had begun to forget until this moment. Them in high school, their first meeting at the school festival, group projects and study groups, sleepovers and festival gatherings- their first day at ABIS, too. And, not just that. Pictures of Haruka drawing, of herself fiddling with the Evolver or a game she was practicing, Ayano hard at work on a test or humming while folding paper cranes- none of these were taken by Shintaro, she was certain, but he collected them all anyways. There were even more besides.

Some of a bright little girl with searing orange hair, the barest similarities to Shintaro in her face and the strongest in her eyes (he had mentioned a little sister, didn’t he?), others of that bright girl next to him and a woman that looked older than both but even more similar, even older ones of a young boy and girl that could only be those two standing hand in hand with that same woman and an older man. Pictures of a cute white rabbit (Tounou, wasn’t that her name?), of the old man, and of old and familiar places. Their school, that bridge, even the one game convention they all attended.

She… didn't know how she felt about it. Leaving that, she opened up the other file, and found… pictures of that place. As it was before the explosion, and as it was after. Documents detailing changes, listing occupants and suspects and those connected to the members they captured, pictures of them with friends and family, all connected together by a metaphorical red string in the document that centres around one simple question: Where are they?

She… really didn't know how she felt about it. He hadn't let go or moved on, he hadn't been wallowing- he was on just as much of a Quest as she had been. As she still could be. Closing the file, she looks through the camera at her kouhai's slumped form, thoughts running through her mind…

…

He left the building bright and early the next day, once again holding tightly onto the new phone. And once again, the two of them found themselves returning to their old workplace. She wasn't certain of what he was here for, but she could guess. As he made his way out of the elevator and towards the old man's so-called lab, the Psync Room, she felt even more certain of her prediction.

And eventually, standing in front of the jacketless boy, was the old goat she had once called teacher, looking just as rumpled as yesterday but at least clad in his lab coat. And in his hand, as expected, was the small orb filled to the brim with cybernetics. He began to explain what exactly was in his hand, an AI-Ball he called it (the shitty punster he is), and started rattling off features like different vision wavelengths, internet access, and most notably, an AI companion to keep him company.

This piqued her attention the most. Someone to stand by his side and help him out, to protect him as he tries to protect others. A partner… and one that can't die, by virtue of their existence being backed up on the so-called Wadjet System. To her, it sounded like…

An opportunity.

As the old man rambled on, she tried to feel out the AI-Ball. For such a supposedly high-tech piece of equipment, it felt rather… undefended, from threats such as her. Then again, she doubts anyone could've expected a sapient AI to be floating about. Or maybe they'll add some better antivirus later… hopefully. Pushing through some gaps in the firewall, she found herself in the core of the device. Looking this way and that, she tried to familiarize herself with her new housing. Looked like audio was here, here was video, here was… AR projection? And… a neural link, a gel formation, a shock response, and- a self-destruct??

Before she could really parse through all that (seriously, why so many abilities??), she found herself stumbling on… well, what she should have expected, really. An AI, young and unassuming. And asleep. It lacked an appearance in this digital world, merely a bundle of code vaguely shaped like a person. If she was going to do what she had to do, then she had to… get rid of it. There was no way she could hold control while the AI this body was made for was running around too, but… well, it felt a bit like murder to her. But that was silly, this wasn't a person, just an AI, with no life to speak of, and no memories either (she steadfastly ignored the stupid, stupid old man's remarks that the AI-Ball would grow alongside him to become his perfect partner).

She had to do it. She had to. For Shintaro. For Ayano. For Haruka. And maybe even a little bit for herself, too. She raised her hands and stepped toward the nameless AI, preparing to unravel the lines of code holding it together, preparing to scatter its 1's and 0's into the Cloud, preparing to deprive it of the chance to become its own person- and stopped. She- she couldn't. She just- she was callous but not cruel, the last year hadn't changed that. It had made her energetic in a way she never could consistently be in a body but tired in a way that was deeper than her bones, but it hadn't made her a murderer.

But still she had to- to do something. Maybe, maybe they could share, or-

"Well, go ahead and put her in, Shintaro."

And then suddenly the neural link was being opened and the AI was opening its eyes, slowly generating an appearance just from the barest hints of Shintaro's psyche, body becoming more defined, hair appearing and growing long, down to the waist, and-

She panicked. She reached out with her hand and pulled, binding and zipping the core of the AI down as she hurried, ignoring the voiceless cry as she reached out with her other hand, grabbing the neural link and-

Then she was twisting and writhing, her body being compressed and stretched out, information not native to her forcing its way in, connections to something beyond, a Mother that was not her mother, her form changing, blue becoming white and she could hear him, his thoughts, feel his sorrow, his confusion, his annoyance, his apathy, and she opens her mouth to scream-

And then it all faded away, assimilated with her, and she felt different, but she still felt like herself, and she opened her eyes and looked out through a single eye, taller than she had ever been (silently, an eye coloured #fa3c3e shifted to a hue constantly transitioning from #55edfe to #0e2652), and-

"I can… see. Thanks, old man."

"Oi! I already told you, call me Boss! Hell, I'll even accept you calling me by name, anything's better than old man!"

"Mm. So, what was that about an AI companion?"

"Eh? You can't hear her? Strange, maybe she's a bit shyer than I expected. Let me just-"

The old goat made motions towards the AI-Ball, and she quivered, she had to do something, else he'd see that she isn't meant to be here, but what could she- oh, duh!

"I-it's nothing to worry about! Sorry!"

"Eh?"

Her kouhai looked this way and that, scratching his head. He almost looked scared.

"Did… you hear something, old man?"

"…no? Oh, is that the AI-Ball?"

"Yep yep, that's me!" She tried to centre herself, she needed to land a good introduction so they don't suspect a thing. Briefly, her mind recalled a conversation she and her best friend had about this dense bastard, and decided to follow through in her unspoken plea. "Super cute cybergirl AI companion Ene, at your service, Ma-su-tah~"

Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but sue her! She was panicking, and needed to keep him off kilter!

"E-eh? Ene? Super cute?? Master??? Old man, what the hell kind of AI did you stick in my head!?"

The old goat raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I didn't do anything. The AI-Ball determines its personality based on what's best for you. Is there something you need to tell me, young man…?" He raised a brow mockingly, barely suppressing a gross smirk.

Her… guh, Master blushed red, shaking his head frantically. "N-no! And- and it's barely even been few minutes, how could she know what's best for me!?"

He shrugged. "That's just her opinion. Maybe you'll feel more comfortable with it in a few months."

"A few months!?" Her Master went bug-eyed. Pfft, if only she could see his face… "Hell no, get this thing outta me!"

"Aw, Master, that's so mean… sniff sniff… am I really so deplorable?" To try and strike it home, she used the AR projection feature, placing an image of her newly reformed cyberself before him, now detachable sleeves covering her face as she shakes and shivers. After all, this guy…

"Guh… f-fine."

Was an absolute pushover.

"Alright, that's great to hear brat! Now get out of here, I'm busy. I'll be seeing you here next week for you to resume your apprenticeship, so make sure to send me any emails if any issues pop up with her."

With his piece said, he turns back to the rows of computers, completely ignoring Shintaro. Her Master, still shaking off his flush, turns away and grumbles. As he stalks his way down to the elevator, Ene felt out his being, the rush of thoughts on her, on Kejirou, on the past, on the future, all blended together with his embarrassment, his frustration, his exhaustion- it was all rather dizzying to her. Maybe if she were truly an AI, designed for this sort of relationship, it wouldn't be so hard. Silently, she tried to mute the connection, grunting when she saw that wasn't an option.

As he entered the elevator, he slumped against the back wall, riding it up to the ground floor. He's silent, so she is too, not really sure what to do.

"Hey, Ene."

She jumps. That wasn't ever a thing she expected him to call her.

"Yes, Master?"

He winces, but shakes it off. He stands silent for one beat, two, three, and she almost thinks he's ignoring her before he continues.

"…let's get along."

Ene stared blankly. That was… probably the most polite he had ever treated her. She smacked her face- now wasn't the time. Make a good first impression. Even so, she couldn't help the way her voice softened a bit as she said her first genuine sentence as Ene instead of as the ghost of Takane Enomoto.

"…yeah. Let's get along… Master."

#ai the somnium files #kagerou project #art #ene #aitsf #Her centre stance is based on her pose in the Meka Trio's portion of the anime OP #Her face in the top right is based on a frame from the Summertime Record MV #This story got right the heck away from me it's way too long #I messed up and didn;t realise reblogs didn't count as posts that would appear in the tags in and of themselves #I should have because that explains why I never saw reblogs when I was scrolling through a tag's history rather than my feed but alas #Also I decided Fraying was dumb; this story just works on the Snakes

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crimzoncrow · 10 months

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ty for tagging me @mamawasatesttube !! <3

1. are you named after anyone? Not really! My middle name is my mom’s mom’s mom’s name (I think? Might be another generation back), but my first name isn’t for anyone.

2. when was the last time you cried? Almost exactly twenty four hours ago, I was having one of my bimonthly identity crises <3

3. do you have kids? Unless we’re counting friends barely younger than me who’ve declared me their mother, absolutely not lol

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? It depends on who I’m with! I guess not really? I use it a lot more when I’m upset about something or joking about something I don’t like I think, I just realized

5. what sports do you play/have you played? I used to play soccer, when I was little! Like, elementary school. I guess I also did gymnastics when I was even younger but it wasn’t sport-y gymnastics

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people? Depends on how we first interact! Online it’s typically typing style, formality, and tone. Helps me figure out how I should respond, if I interact with them

7. what’s your eye color? Brown!

8. scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!!! Scary movies give me really bad paranoia lol. Sometimes I can avoid it by pointing out mistakes or production details I notice, but then I’m not really… watching the scary movie as a scary movie anymore. I’m also just a sucker for a good happy ending!!!

9. any special talents? Hey look at how hard I can hyperfocus *crochets for 17 hours straight no breaks*. More seriously though, none that I really know of? I guess I’m kind of flexible but that’s more of a my joints really suck thing than a talent thing

10. where were you born? New Jersey, gotta keep up my mom’s family’s tradition of having some Jersey in them even if they were raised elsewhere (It’s like… kind of strange LOL. They’re literally all over the place but we’ve all got some tie to nj somehow?? I think I know one single person in the entirety of my moms family who wasn’t born in nj or spent the majority of their life there, and it’s bc their parent moved before they got them).

11. what are your hobbies? Drawing, writing, crochet (apparently?? that ones still kinda new to me even if it’s ,, been a few months lol), reading, uhhhh. I’m sure there’s more they come and go

12. do you have any pets? NO I WISH I DID im screaming and sobbing i cannot at the moment but as soon as i can i WILL

13. how tall are you? 5’ 4” ish? I thought I was just under 5’ 5” the second to last time I checked but last time I went to the doctor they said I was like 5’ 3.75” or something so it’s very confusing to me 😔😔 Most of the people I’ve spoken to think the 5’4” is most accurate tho

14. favorite subject? Uhh art? That feels like a copout lol. Overall, probably english? English, art, sciences in general… I can also like history? I don’t have anything against math either?? Most of the time whether or not I like a subject has more to do w whether I associate them w good or bad teachers I’ve had LOL

15. dream job? MAN i have NO IDEA . Ive been agonizing over this so bad . My current goal for career is just “something where I can do something I love and make things that make people happy”, probably in the arts, but you know that’s . Not really very specific lol. And also I’m just interested in other things too!!! If I were going to a different college there’s a super huge chance I’d be looking at stuff w/ linguistics more. Idk!! A job I like that’s stable and secure and also I can make enough money to do hobbies I like and spend time with friends!!! Whatever that is, if I can ever find it!!!!

i am so very terrible at tagging people so if someone sees this and wants to do it just say i tagged you <33 this was very fun!!

#im very tired so i think i rambled too much #but whatever #fun facts for whoever reads this ig #enjoy my trivia <3 #tag games

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themculibrary · 1 year

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Slow Burn Masterlist 2

part one

a couple rebel top gun pilots (flying with nowhere to be) (ao3) - notcaycepollard sam/bucky E, 19k

Summary: That seems to be the thing that breaks the ice between them; Bucky's never really hung out with Sam before, past being jammed into a too-small car for six hours and then two uncomfortable months in a safehouse trying not to get on each other’s last nerve. Now they’re getting lunch or coffee every few days. Sam falls asleep on Bucky’s couch three more times. Bucky joins him and Steve a couple of times on their morning run.

He doesn’t notice, is the thing; doesn’t notice how ever since Sam slept on his couch that night he’s been letting Bucky closer bit by bit, that as Bucky’s been wondering about the boundaries and structures of friendship, Sam’s been drawing in.

a stranger to my eyes (ao3) - jaih0 sam/bucky T, 50k

Summary: He should have expected it, but somehow, he still let himself feel a certain amount of shock upon seeing the door of his apartment ajar. The new supplies were placed on the floor with a gentleness that could have only been due to the fact that Alpine was in one of those supplies. Technically, there was no point in being stealthy now, given the grace and finesse he had used to trample up the stairs with the fruits of his shopping spree. Still, old habits die hard, and people who sneak into apartments die harder.

In which Sam saves Bucky, Bucky saves Sam, and they just can't seem to figure out what it means.

birds flying but i'm still there (ao3) - overnights sam/bucky N/R, 45k

Summary: “Shit,” Sam says, staring at the thin golden ring on his finger. He blinks quickly, like he’s pushing through it all: the hangover, the too-bright sunlight, the pure insanity of this moment. Bucky watches the dark curl of his eyelashes, staring for just a second too long.

Sam blinks again, then starts to laugh. “Shit. Well, I guess we’ll have to file for annulment.”

And maybe it’s the leftover buzz of the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way that Sam has started to feel like safety to him, but something makes Bucky blurt it out; he clears his throat and says, “Yeah, or we could just stay married.”

colors of the heart (ao3) - sodium_amytal sam/bucky N/R, 21k

Summary: “Just hear me out,” Bucky interrupted, and Sam did so. “Steve knows a lot of my secrets, but there’s one I haven’t told anyone. I like you a lot, so if I’m ever going to talk, it has to be now—before things ever get serious. You get that, don’t you?”

Dissonance (ao3) - stuckybarnes peter/wade M, 121k

Summary: Wherein Deadpool is reluctantly hired to protect Peter Parker from an organization out to hunt him, with varying success on both ends and quite a lot of feelings, revelations, and identity crises.

Don't Look Down (ao3) - NamelesslyNightlock loki/tony M, 256k

Summary: When forced to decide between the lives of Tony Stark and Iron Man, Steve Rogers chose wrong.

Tony is left to deal with the consequences, but it’s not like he’s helpless, and he certainly isn’t alone.

Illuminate Me (ao3) - Half_SubmergedinPurgatory bucky/tony M, 130k

Summary: Tony isn't a healthy man. He's fine with that, really. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, he has a job to do that kind of has his health as a major requirement. So he unmakes himself, remakes the Accords, protects every single child super that enters his field of view, and hopes ferociously that the Avengers never come back to the US. He doesn't spend any time at all rebuilding Bucky Barnes' life. Not a single second. Anything he does that contributes to him is simply an accident.

Bucky is a patient man. It's ok if Tony wants to ignore him for now. He won't be able to forever.

(Somewhere in the world, a sense of dread crawls up the back of Tony's spine)

Re-Engineered (ao3) - Opy3332 bucky/tony M, 73k

Summary: “Tony blinks. He blinks and his entire world changes.”

Tony is sent back in time from mid-Infinity War to just after returning from Afghanistan.

How different is Tony Stark, and the MCU, with all that knowledge of the future?

Haunted by the guilt of Rhodey’s injury, the betrayal and pain of Steve, the fear of Wanda, the loss of Jarvis, and the foreknowledge of Thanos, this Tony is one the universe hasn’t contended with before. And he is more than ready to re-claim his title of genius, billionaire, and philanthropist in ways unexpected.

Scars (ao3) - Arvensis5 bucky/tony G, 26k

Summary: When Tony tried to urge the homeless guy sleeping on the steps of the Tower’s loading dock to move, he never expected that he’d found Hydra’s pet assassin—James “Bucky” Barnes.

Now, after months of keeping his presence a secret from the Avengers and helping Barnes learn to cope with both his returning memories and the modern world, Hydra is back for their favorite toy and Tony must call in old friends to save the life of the man he just might have come to care for a little too much.

Sharpen Your Teeth (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony M, 369k

Summary: A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Start Here (ao3) - howlingbuchanan (penmarks) sam/bucky M, 110k

Summary: "Tell him you will never know any better. Pretend to understand why that isn't good enough."

An exploration of grief and trauma through Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, who also happen to be accidentally, absolutely, and unconditionally in love.

Sugar Sweet (ao3) - ColorCoated steve/bucky E, 173k

Summary: College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

AKA a Sugar Daddy AU that no one was asking for.

War, Children (ao3) - Nonymos steve/bucky E, 106k

Summary: After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) (ao3) - notcaycepollard sam/bucky E, 33k

Summary: It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

What I Used To Be (ao3) - thepinupchemist steve/bucky E, 117k

Summary: When the police uncover a hidden sub-basement in the home of criminal Alexander Pierce and find a tortured omega and his three pups, they bring them to the Stark Omega Clinic, a non-profit dedicated to rehabilitating traumatized omegas.

After dark in September 2005, fourteen year old Bucky Barnes vanished. Eleven years and three pups later, he is far from the boy that went missing from a suburban neighborhood outside of Denver.

Steve Rogers is an alpha of some means. When he came into money, he decided to use what he had for good and sign up as a candidate to be a support alpha for his close friend Tony's charitable clinic. When he takes on the task of helping reintegrate Bucky and his pups into the world, he doesn't expect to fall so hard.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #slowburn #slowburn masterlist #masterlists

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universitypenguin · 1 year

Note

Hiya!

BIG BIG FAN OF THE LATEST CHAPTER!!! Honestly? Superb. Just the balance of genre is 🥰🥰🥰 (I’m the anon who sent a message about just loving how you turned the fic into a crime thriller btw)

No pressure to answer with anything long, but I was curious if Lloyd and Princess ever took on any cases that hit him a little too close to home, childhood wise? Is he soft with the kids? Does something go a little mushy inside the ex-spy when he sees a child go through what he did? Does the Princess get to see this softer side if he does? Like I said, no pressure to answer! I was just curious about a what if scenario.

I really, really enjoy your writing and I genuinely am engaged by all aspects of it. Not one part bores me and I’m as excited for the thriller parts as the romance. To navigate the two genres in one text is really an admirable skill and you ought to be very chuffed with yourself.

Lotsa love!!

🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so much for your response!

I love getting these questions. Also, I do know I have the tendency to over write and turn everything into a whole story with a character arc and backstory. It’s an ongoing issue. 😆

1. Have Lloyd and Princess ever took on any cases that hit him a little too close to home, childhood wise?

No, not like this one. Lloyd has been to therapy and it opened the door to a lot of things he has locked down for decades. That’s why this incident got under his skin. Usually, he’s very compartmentalized and has something of a mental block around his childhood trauma. It’s not something that comes up every single day but it’s a huge factor in why he turned out the way he did.

For Princess, kids are easy. She practically raised her younger siblings and because of it, she has a good sense of where they are developmentally. She can establish report quickly with most kids, since she knows what toys, games, and books they enjoy. Having a niece and nephew helps with this a lot. She’s great at letting them come to her and finding out what captures they’re attention.

2. Is he soft with the kids?

Yes, but… Lloyd doesn’t know how to act around kids (at this point.) He’s clueless about their needs and abilities. There’s a vast difference between a three year old and a five year old, for example. Lloyd gets that, but he doesn’t know the specifics or how that should affect his approach to them. He looks at kids as if they’re tiny adults, which is usually not true.

He would be soft with a kid, but it would require him to spend enough time with one to make a connection. I think he’d be very protective and would really appreciate their trust. I actually have a few ideas about how to work this into the plot. The concept I have in mind is based on how my uncle is with his grandchildren.

A sidebar, with background on my inspiration for how Lloyd would be with children. My uncle is a rough mannered old cowboy who’s spent far more time with livestock than other humans in his life. He was a tough love kind of person as a father, which was sometimes hard on my cousins. Of course he always loved his children but he struggled to express it, probably because of how he was treated by his father. Age has really softened him up. Nowadays, he’s amazing with his grandkids. He’s patient and really listens to them. The other day he took his grandson for a ride to check cattle and they ended up sitting on the hill, the grandson with his High-C and my uncle with his Budlight, talking about where they should build a corral. When he got home he pulled out his sketch pad and spent hours trying to design an appropriate corral. Then he decided to sketch out how he wants his ranch to be laid out someday- where will the garden go? Where will he keep his horses? How big should the barn be? What about a chicken coop?

My cousin and his wife were so confused by their son’s drawings. He kept doing multiple drafts and insisting the sketches had to be “just right.” After about twenty sketches, my cousin finally figured it out. He was designing corrals and a barn yard. When he told me this story my cousin said, “You never know what those two will get up to when Dad gets into the Budlight and Joey gets into the High-C.” 😂

3. Does something go a little mushy inside the ex-spy when he sees a child go through what he did?

I think Lloyd would fly into a murderous rage if he saw a kid going through what he did, or even if he just suspected it was happening. The memory I showed in Part 8 was the tip of the iceberg and there’s a lot more that will come out toward the middle of the plot.

Like I mentioned above, he has the potential for softness, but he’s never had the chance to show it before. I want to pull some of that out as the plot continues and prove that Lloyd can be loving outside of a romantic relationship. Kindness is an important element of being a good partner and seeing how much of it Lloyd really has will be interesting.

4. Does the Princess get to see this softer side if he does?

I’m not sure how I’m going to play out the third act, but there’s a chance she won’t see all of these events. Lloyd will definitely be challenged to use his hard-won emotional intelligence and show himself capable of being a real partner to Princess.

However, I plan to have her become aware of, or maybe figure out how soft Lloyd actually can be. His past abuse will alway make him feel like he has to hide that soft underbelly of emotion, but that only serves to emphasize how deep his feelings run. Princess already has an idea of this, but I’m aiming for a scene that will drive it home so there’s no room for doubt.

You have no idea how helpful this ask was at clarifying my intentions for act three. My inner muse really loves this concept… I’m dying to find out what I’m going to do with it! 🤩

#penguin replies

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rabuhasanbd · 2 years

Text

What are tips from Elon Musk for entrepreneurs?

1. Request Feedback

Starting a business is a process of trial and error. During an August 2013 Google Hangout hosted by Google for Entrepreneurs, Musk emphasized the importance of asking for advice.

“Take as much feedback from as many people as you can about whatever idea you have,” Musk said. “Seek critical feedback. Ask them what’s wrong. You often have to draw it out in a nuanced way to figure out what’s wrong.”

2. Accept Constructive Criticism

As Musk mentioned in the 2013 Google Hangout, the constructive criticism others give you is invaluable. Sometimes critiques are hard to hear, but it’s all part of the learning process. If you want to succeed in business, learn not to take feedback personally.

This advice is useful even if you’re not trying to helm a startup. When you’re too close to a project, it’s often difficult to spot missteps, so input from others can prove invaluable.

3. Get Your Hands Dirty

Musk didn’t build Tesla by sitting in a corner office watching employees work. During the Google Hangout, he explained that as company leaders, co-founders and CEOs have to pitch in where necessary to keep the company afloat.

“You’ve got to do all sorts of jobs and tasks that you might not wish to do, that are not intrinsically interesting to you,” he said. “You’ve got to be prepared to do whatever it takes, work whatever hours. No task is too menial. I think that’s the right attitude for the CEO of a startup.”

Anything but glamorous, the job of the CEO can include anything from answering phones to cleaning the office kitchen when your company is just starting out. Be prepared to roll up your sleeves and get to work.

4. Talk Through Differences

Although it’s important that new employees share your vision, team members can sometimes become misaligned. This is not ideal, but it’s not necessarily a deal-breaker or a reason to cut the person from your team.

If a staffer starts behaving in a manner that doesn’t align with your company culture, Musk recommended talking to the person and explaining the problem. In most cases, he said the person will change their behavior, but if they don’t, you need to be prepared to let them go.

Make Your Money Work Better for You

5. Hire for Cultural Fit

When hiring new employees, you have to make sure they mesh well with your team. In the Google Hangout, Musk emphasized the importance of teamwork and aligning expectations from the beginning.

“I think it’s important that everyone understands exactly what the mission is, what the goal is, and that when they join the company, they’re bought into that overall goal,” Musk said. “As long as that goal is clearly defined and understood and people are saying ‘yes,’ they agree with that goal when they join the company — so, they are not just joining for a salary or something like that, but they believe in what the company is doing …”

6. Ask Meaty Interview Questions

Job seekers looking for work at Tesla, SpaceX or any of Musk’s companies are put through the wringer. Not likely to be fooled by an expert interviewee, Musk believes tough interview questions show a candidate’s true fit for the position.

At the February 2017 World Government Summit in Dubai, Musk talked about the one interview question he believes reveals the most about a candidate’s aptitude — though it’s quite the multifaceted request.

“Tell me the story of your life and the decisions that you made along the way and why you made them. And also tell me about some of the you worked on and how you solved them,” Musk said. “People that really solved the problem, they know exactly how they solved it — they know the little details.”

Musk emphasized the importance of the question, noting that candidates trying to fake their way into the job can only elaborate to an extent until they’re caught in the lie. Therefore, if you want to hire the best person for the job, you have to dig deep.

Do you need Design and Marketing Service?

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

Tag list:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27 @haushinka27 @caylaxwrites @extraneousred @agentmstark @crazywitchkitty @its-an-idea-not-a-blog @partypoison00 @fictional-hooman @hoglady @helnicks @luckyfreakfishpeach @chiquitita18 @rachlovesactors @icecream50055 @doloreschanal @lupinsfavslytherin @swthxrry @wanderlusting-about-life @dreamer7black @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny @toxicenough @tiiffanym @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #a woman scorned

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pa1nkill3r · 3 years

Text

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

#george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #oml this is long

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jungwonenthusiast · 3 years

Note

can I please request for prompts 2, 5, 10, 12 for hard&soft dom!heeseung and an innocent!fem!s/o from enhypen smut prompt list? prompt no. 5 to be said by the reader while the rest by heeseung

A/N: forgive me if there r any typos lol i hope u like it :)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), degredation, slight corruption kink

Word count: 2.4 k

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm as another jumpscare appears on the movie screen. He giggles at you. “Is it gone yet?” you whisper and he nods.

Today was your four month anniversary with Heeseung and you decided to treat him by taking him to a scary movie he’s been wanting to see.You’re not a huge fan of them but you figured it’d be a way for you to cuddle him without raising too much suspicion.

He kept a hand on your thigh throughout the movie, occasionally squeezing and rubbing it over your pants.

You try to ignore the film by keeping your eyes on him. His hands, his legs, his hands, his profile. Anything to distract yourself from the poor family being killed on the screen.

It isn’t long before the movie ends and you walk out to Heeseung’s car.

“The brother was such an idiot. Why didn’t he just call the police?” he says while starting the engine. (haha engene lol sorry)

“The police can’t stop ghosts.” you chuckle.

“Maybe NASA could’ve figured something out.” he grabs your thigh again, it’s kind of his thing. “I’m surprised you survived.”

“Yup, my love for you overcomes my hatred for horror movies.”

He smiles and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go to my place.” he says and you frown.

“But all the boys-”

He cuts you off. “The maknaes aren’t there, they’re paintballing in Itaewon.”

You groan. “Fine.”

The boys’ dorm is never your first choice which is understandable without elaboration. But you try not to get annoyed and instead enjoy living in the moment.

He has the windows cracked open and the wind is whipping through his hair, making him look like a moviestar.

Sunghoon and Jake are in their own rooms when you get there so at least there’s some peace and quiet.

Heeseung plops onto his bed. “Come here sweetheart.” he says with his arms out to you.

You smile and snuggle up to him, resting your head on his chest.

He pets your hair and kisses your forehead. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re prettier.” you say and he chuckles.

“Nuh uh.” he says and sits up. “Lemme see your pretty face.”

You sit up too as he holds your face delicately in his hands. “You’re so gorgeous I wanna kiss you everywhere.” he kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, and your nose, your eyelids, then your jaw, and down, down, down your neck. Your heart beat starts to speed up. You never tell him, but your neck is your weakness. He finally pulls away to give you a proper kiss on the lips.

“C’mere.” he says and pulls you onto his lap. You let out a small squeal.

He holds your waist tight as he kisses you again, this time slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan a bit, enjoying the sensation.

You guys had made out before and even grinded a bit but it never went further than that. Not because you didn’t want it. Of course you wanted it. There have been nights where you spent hours imagining what it would be like. You already knew that he’d be sweet, but you kind of wanted more than that. You wanted him to take control and boss you around. Maybe today will be the day, you think to yourself.

You start to slowly rock your hips against his and he lets out a low groan. His fingers travel up your hoodie and he’s delighted to find out that you aren’t wearing a bra. He massages you and pinches your nipples a bit as you grind on his hard on. You’re already so stimulated, you could cum just like this.

Heeseung’s curious as to why you’re acting like this today. Usually by now it’d be over, but why would he complain about you being naughty, especially when it’s been such a big fantasy of his to corrupt you. His darling little girlfriend who checks in with her parents everyday and wouldn’t dare to skip school all sprawled out under him, whimpering and begging for release. God, he could think about it all day.

He flips you onto your back and pushes your hoodie up, exposing your torso. Your arms fly to cover yourself.

“Stop that princess,” he kisses your stomach. “Let me see you.”

You slowly pull your arms away and he goes right to kissing your chest. “So perfect.” he whispers, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

You’re already squirming underneath him, eager for him to touch you somewhere else. And as if he read your mind, his fingers start to play with the band of your pants.

He quickly unbuttons them and slides them off your legs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks and you nod eagerly.

“I’ve never done this before.” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he kisses your knee. “Just relax.”

He kisses your neck, licking it and nipping at it, leaving a blooming bruise. Your body tenses as he circles your clit.

“I didn't know you were this sensitive.” he smiles.

You feel your face heat up. It’s kind of embarrassing. He was barely touching you plus it was on top of your underwear.

“I’m just teasing baby.” he kisses your cheek and continues the circling motion.

Soft moans leave your mouth as he does so. He pulls away and notices a wet patch already forming on your underwear.

His fingers slip into the waistband. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Please?”

“You submit to me so well,” he nips at your neck. “I love it.”

His fingers find your slit and you whine.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers as he rubs your clit. “Did I get you that worked up princess?”

You nod pathetically, already drunk on his touch.

He circles around your hole for a bit before slowly pushing his middle finger into you. You hold on tight to his arm, getting used to the foreign feeling.

He pumps it in and out of you a couple of times. “You ready for another one?”

You nod and whine as his ring finger stretches you out.

��You’re doing so good.” he whispers and kisses your forehead.

Your moans get more and more needy as he curls his fingers in you hitting a spot that you’ve never felt before.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Feel good?” he asks and you nod. “I bet it does.”

He shifts down and settles his face between your legs.

“Wait what are you doing?” you ask him, shutting your knees. “I want to taste you,” he says. “Is that okay?”

You contemplate for a moment. The thought of it makes you a bit shy but then you imagined how good it would feel and that won over everything. “Yeah.” you nod and he smiles.

His fingers are still curling in you as he kisses your thighs, leaving small marks on the way down to where you need it the most.

After what feels like years, his tongue finally finds your clit. Your thighs shut from the sudden pleasure.

He chuckles. “Keep em open baby.” he uses his free hand to keep you spread.

He moans into you. “Tastes so fucking good.”

It’s so much to take in at once; his fingers in you, his tongue drawing circles on your clit, the vibrations you feel every time he groans. You feel overstimulated but in the best way possible.

Your fingers tug on his hair as your thighs begin to tremble.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” you cry out.

His grip on you tightens and he moans into you, encouraging you to cum in his mouth.

A string of curse words leaves your lips as you reach your high, and it’s the hardest you’ve ever came in your life. It’s like you’re floating up in the clouds, and you never want to come back down.

Heeseung kisses you, giving you a taste. He holds you tight in his arms and tries to calm your shaky breathing.

“You did so good doll.” he kisses your cheek.

You hold onto him as your heart rate goes down to normal.

“Here let me go get you a towel.” he starts get off the bed but you grab his arm.

“Wait we’re done?” you ask and he looks at you. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks and you nod.

“Yes,” you say and he chuckles.

He sits back down onto the bed. “I didn’t expect that.”

You climb on top of him and give him a passionate kiss, sliding your hands under his hoodie.

He pulls it over his head with ease.

You admire his lean body for a moment before kissing his neck and his collar bones. “Can you fuck me please?” you ask him.

He smirks. “Your wish is my command.” he flips you over onto your back and unbuttons his black jeans. Just watching him do it makes you wet.

He climbs over you, rubbing his tip on your clit. He sighs into your neck.

“You ready princess?” he asks and you nod vigorously.

He slowly pushes into you and you wince a bit from the stretch.

“Ow ow ow.” you say quietly and he stops.

“You okay? Does it hurt a lot?” he asks.

“It’s not bad.” you say through gritted teeth.

He kisses you, giving you time to adjust to his length. He pets your hair and tells you how gorgeous you look.

“Please start moving.” you ask him and he listens, slowly thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he moans. “So fucking tight.”

You whimper so loud as his tips brushes against your g-spot that you clamp your hand over your mouth, worried that Sunghoon and Jake would pick up on what was going on.

He pulls your hand away. “Be louder, I want them to hear you.”

“But-”

“Do as I say sweetheart.” he cuts you off.

Of course you melt under him. How could you not. He’s so perfect. He’s the type of boy that only exists in books.

“What a good girl,” he kisses your shoulder. “Look how well you take it.”

You grab a pillow and cover your face with it, you can’t help but want to conceal your moans.

He throws it off and grabs your jaw hard. “What’d I say about that? Don’t you want them to know how much of a slut you are for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Speak up when I talk to you.” he says sternly. His words make you throb and he notices. “Do you like it when I’m mean?” he smirks at you.

“Yeah,” you admit, sheepishly.

“There you go again being all quiet, keep that up and I’ll edge you until you’re begging.” he threatens you with a good time.

“What if I want you to do that anyway.” you say flirtatiously.

He raises an eyebrow. “I can make that happen.”

His thumb finds your clit and the sensation of him rubbing you and his cock ramming in and out of your pussy sends you so close over the edge.

The look on your face is so angelic and hopeless, you’re better than anything he could imagine.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” he kisses you. “You look so pretty while being fucked.”

He snaps his hips into yours and your eyes roll back.

“Just like that.” you whine.

“How bad do you want it?” he asks you.

“So bad,” you say out of desperation. At this point you don’t care. Heeseung had taken over your mind, ego, and pride. “You feel so fucking good inside of me.”

He smiles. “How could such a sweet voice say such dirty words.” Then all of the sudden he pulls out. You nearly cry out from the unexpected emptiness.

“What the fuck,” you swear at him.

“You’re the one who asked for this.” he says, still slowly rubbing your clit.

You whimper. “I take it back. I need you.”

“No take backs sweetheart.” he tsks.

He kisses your chest and pinches at your nipples. You writhe under him, needing him in you.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably a minute or so, he slams back into you and right after being satisfied, he pulls out again.

“Heeseung please,” you whine. “Please I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“You have, but I like doing this to you.” he kisses you. “Who knew my innocent girl would be begging for my cock like this.”

You pull at his waist. “I need it.” you tell him in the sweetest voice you could get out.

He sighs. “I’ll never win.” he kisses you again before pushing into you.

“Fuck yes,” you moan in relief. “Faster please.”

Thank god he listens to you.

You cling onto his back, pushing your nails into his skin a bit. It only takes thirty seconds to get you on the edge and Heeseung can tell by the way your moans are getting high pitched.

“Cum on this cock sweetheart,” he says lowly. “Be a good girl for me.”

And just like that, your whimpering his name like it’s the only word you know; like it’s your mantra.

“That’s it baby,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Your pussy pulsing around him sends him into euphoria and he groans into your neck.

You don’t even realize the tears on your cheeks until he pointed it out. He looks at you in shock and holds your face in his hands. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck I’m so sorry pumpkin I-”

“No no it just felt really good,” you giggle. “I didn’t even know I started crying.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighs in relief and kisses your forehead. “You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had you know.”

You laugh. “Stop it, you sound like a man whore.”

“Just being honest.” he smiles and pulls you into his arms.

“Shit,” you curse to yourself.

“What is it?”

“Jake and Sunghoon definitely heard us.” you say, wide eyed.

“Yeah probably,” he says “they probably got off on it too.”

Your face twists in disgust and you shove him in the shoulder.

He cackles. “I mean wouldn’t you?”

You think to yourself. “Yeah I probably would.”

#enhypen smut #Heeseung smut #Kpop smut

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