#to keep up my queue i follow tags so sometimes i see Takes. i’m glad i have a 15 minute limit on twitter

[a-sketchy]

liking yosuke is harder than liking akechi tbh. like akechi’s crimes are entirely fictional but yosuke’s homophobia and misogyny and other general shittiness is genuinely uncomfortable for real people for very understandable reasons. ultimately i could never blame anyone for not being able to stand yosuke’s issues, and no one’s obligated to like the characters i like nor in the specific way i like them, but it’s sooo annoying to read nuanceless takes on either end of hating him based on an extremely shallow reading of the text or liking a squeaky clean sanded down version of him. and that does apply to akechi too, but i think it’s overall harder to overcome the instinctual disgust of yosuke’s actions to grapple with a sincere analysis of his character than it is for akechi, cause even without having hard stats to back this up, i’m pretty sure the demographics of people who like persona include more queer people and women who have faced any sort of prejudice than people who have been murdered, y’know?

so like, free my man. he did all that shit but he’s complex about it

[shhh-no-ones-home]

to love and leave behind steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

+++++++++

this is Steve x reader x Bucky following the events of endgame

prompt: She has a strong fondness for Bucky but she knew that was never gonna happen. So she agreed to go out with Steve when he asked. they had been dating for a while and then the snap happened. five years come and go and she knows its Steve's turn to find happiness. and who knows, maybe she and Bucky can too.

Also from a thought that captain America is pro-choice so themes of that and mentions of abortion and pregnancy

Song: miss you in a heartbeat by def Leppard

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

I stood next to Steve by one of the vans as Bruce set up the new time machine. It had taken a short bit to get everything in order again but Scott pitched in so that helped a lot. Now it was just the five of us; Bucky, Sam, Bruce, Steve, and me. And we were all anxiously waiting the outcome of today's events. To fix what was broke and to put back the stones. And as exciting as that was I still felt a heaviness on my heart about the conversation that had to happen. It was almost time. The other guys were standing around waiting for him.

"Hey Steve, I have to tell you something. Before you go."

I said softly, barely audible as I slumped my way out of the driver seat. He looked confused, brows drawn.

"Go?"

He asked and I sent him a look before rubbing my hand down my arm.

"I don't want it to change your mind though."

I managed, trying to avoid his gaze but desperately wanting to remember him like this.

"Okay?"

I took a deep breath, staring over his concern stricken face.

"I was doing my physical the other morning, right? and, uh... I'm pregnant."

His smile grew so wide as he stepped to me, hands at my elbows.

"What?! That's great!"

He was so enthusiastic. But I shook my head.

"I wanted you to know before I made my decision, but, I don't know if I can do this."

His face fell slowly.

"What do you mean?"

He knew exactly what I meant.

"I can't take care of a baby. Especially not without help."

He paused as realization struck him. He knew that I knew what was happening today.

"Plus i know it would tear you up inside. With you leaving and all."

He opened his mouth twice before speaking.

"Y/n i-"

"It's okay Steve. I'm not trying to stop you. In fact I want you to be happy. And I know that's not here. It never was."

He tightened his jaw.

"But terminating? I understand that it's completely your decision but you always talked about how hard it would be for you to even have kids and how much you wanted one when it came time."

I shook my head quickly.

"I can't keep it. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. Or it. No matter how much I want it."

"And thats your choice?"

He said a little defeated. He knew it didn't matter. No matter how excited I was when I found out or how much I was anticipating carrying through. But that was before I knew there was a possibility he could be with her again. And before I knew I'd be doing this alone. It took me two days to come to terms with the fact that he should know before he leaves. So here we were.

"we've been together for seven years Steve, I know you well enough to know you're leaving."

"I don't have to."

He said just above a whisper, his hands making their way to my hips.

"We both know that's a lie. From the moment we found out it would work we knew you were going. It's okay."

We both just stared at each other for a moment, trying not to cry. He knew I always hid my emotions well, something that took both of us a good time to learn and work around. But now I didn't know if I wanted to. The only thing I guess keeping me from crying, sobbing, holding him close again, was the want for him to finally be happy. Even if it broke me a little on the inside. But we both knew we were truly in love with different people.

"I do love you." he said softly.

"And I you. But this wasn't forever."

I moved his hands off my hips and held them in mine.

"I guess it never really was."

"No. more of a place holder until we could be where we really belong."

He looked down at them connected for a moment before looking back to my face.

"You gonna talk to him?"

I half shrugged.

"Maybe we could bond over losing you."

I joked, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

"Maybe you could learn from each other. He needs you just as much as you need him."

I sighed.

"Think he'll want it?"

I was almost serious but I doubted he would.

"The baby?"

He asked a little dumfounded and I snorted.

"Steven grant Rogers Jr?"

He laughed, shaking his head.

"He's getting better."

"So was I."

He sent me a look.

"You still are."

"I'll miss you Steve."

I admitted, him pulling me into a tight hug. And I finally let a tear slip.

"I'll miss you too y/n. I'll always keep you in my heart."

He whispered before pulling away, still holding me in his arms.

"Don't forget about me okay?"

I croaked out.

"How could I? You changed my life."

He offered a small smile.

"I love you Steve."

He leaned forward and kissed me gently, resting his forehead against mine afterwards.

"Take care of each other and everything will be alright."

°°°°°°°°°

He asked if I wanted to come over to be with them but I couldn't do it. I'd much rather sit here in the van with my own thoughts and emotions than any of them see me cry again. I could still see everyone and everything that was happening and I wasn't quite sure if that was worse or not. Bucky had his hands in his pockets, a sadness over him, and Sam had a very enthusiastic demeanor. But he didn't know. Not like we did. That hurt. Losing love always does.

I blinked out a few more tears as I got back out of the van, walking to the end of it and watching them intently. Steve was on the platform, shield and hammer in hand. He looked from them to me and I offered the smallest smile but it was better than nothing. I just hoped he knew exactly how much I did care for him and how okay I was with him going. After all, he deserved his happy ending. The man out of time.

When I heard Sam and Bruce arguing I figured that was my queue. It was one slow, shaky step after another to get to where they were. Then Bucky said something and all our attention made it's way to a figure sitting at the edge of the clearing. Without a second thought my hand was over my mouth and I tried my hardest to hold the sob threatening to spill from my lips. I looked to the sky and wiped the few tears away, taking a labored breath. I swallowed hard, shook my head, and kept on my mission. When I made it to Bucky he offered a broken smile, leaning into me as I slipped my arm into his. We were silent for a moment as we watched Sam talk to Steve. He looked like he had changed so much but also not at all. But he looked happy and that's what mattered. Even if it broke all of us.

"This isn't going to be easy."

I said just above a whisper and he nodded.

"What was it that he always said? We do this together?"

I half laughed, looking to the ground and kicking a stick lightly.

"Walk with me?

I asked, looking back to him and He nodded. It was fairly leisurely as we turned and passed Bruce, still flipping switches and turning the machine off. But there was a wracking at my brain as I held onto to Bucky for dear life. There was probably a million things to say but I knew what needed to be heard because it was the same thing on my mind.

"Ya know he didn't belong here. He never really did."

I looked up at him and he swallowed hard.

"That doesn't make it any easier."

I hummed softly.

"No it doesn't. What does though is knowing that he still believes in us, even if we don't believe in ourselves."

His pace got slower.

"I'm gonna miss him."

I swallowed hard.

"We all will. But you know just like I do that he had to leave. He found his purpose a long time ago and it wasn't here with us."

The tears were threatening again and he stopped.

"What about you?"

I looked over his stone cold features for a moment as he stared down at me. I ran my thumb over his arm lightly.

"I made peace with it. I've been in love with someone else for a while. since we met anyway. He knew that. And he knew that the people we were meant for weren't available. So we stayed together."

His head hung low.

"Oh. So you've found someone else already?"

He looked back to me with a different form of sadness behind his eyes.

"Bucky-"

"No it's okay, I'm glad you have. I guess everyone's moving on."

I shook my head.

"Buck I'm talking about you."

He deadpanned.

"You are?"

I nodded slowly, trying to choose my words carefully.

"I've known since the day we met. I was meant to be with you. Sometimes you just know, you feel it. But you weren't ready and that's okay."

We started walking again.

"But you and steve-"

"Had a mutual understanding to fill each other's needs until we could make it back to our own person. even if it was seven years of dating and living together and just carrying on. we were happy for the most part. like living with a friend."

i squeezed his arm.

"but ive known it was supposed to be you. And i know we've been working through things together, its brought us closer. and if you're ready I'd love to try this more than friends thing. But if not that's okay too. I've waited this long."

I let out a short laugh.

"I've been working so hard."

He said and I looked to him.

"as a young man there was nothing I wanted more than to settle down and start a family. But I don't want to hurt you. I still don't trust myself and you've held me enough nights to know the nightmares still linger."

I stopped him and stood in front of him so we were facing each other. I placed my hands firmly on his arms and he tensed. I looked intently between his eyes.

"Bucky you could never hurt me."

I said sternly.

"Who else has visited you and dealt with the nightmares since you've been here? Who else knows more about you than Steve? Who has voluntarily been your partner and your friend?"

He looked down a little ashamed as I kept going.

"Buck, I know with the snap it's been a while but that doesn't change how I feel. Relationships Are about growth and sacrifice."

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah I guess you're right. And I guess Part of me has been waiting for a long time to hear that from you."

I reached up and cupped his face, running my thumb over his check bone as he smiled down at me.

"So you wanna try this whole dating thing?"

"I'd love to. If you'll have me."

He said a little unsure. I swallowed hard as realization struck me. Well that or the nausea.

"Before we do this I do need to tell you something."

He looked a little concerned

"Okay?"

"It came up earlier and I don't want it to change how you feel about me or us because I'm still on the fence about my decision. But I'm pregnant."

He just stared at me for a long while, eyes wide.

"I didn't want it to be the deciding factor on Steve staying or not and I've been thinking about aborting it. I won't be able to do this on my own and it's not fair to dump this on you either-"

"Hey, no no no no no, I get it's your decision but if you want help. I can- I mean i may not be the best candidate but I've always wanted a family. And I'm not about to leave someone I care about behind because something like that came up. im still learning and finding myself again but if you want help... im more than happy to lend a hand."

I looked over this face again. He seemed serious.

"Are you sure? I don't want to push this on you when you're already so unsure about yourself. I was gonna make an appointment tomorrow-"

"No, don't even worry about it. Maybe this will be the push I need. I mean we've got mine months. I could be better by then. maybe not a lot but something is better than nothing. and like you said, when you know you know. We can be fully established by then, right?"

I smiled, his hands moving to my hips.

"With your pardon and starting over again in the real world yeah I think we can. If you don't mind taking care of a tiny Steve Rogers."

He laughed, cringing a little bit.

"Are we gonna tell them that?"

I laughed too and for once it felt like a weight off my shoulders.

"It's gonna be complicated because they obviously won't look like you but as far as I'm concerned this was a decision we make together, to be parents, so you'll still be their dad. If you want to be off course. Even if Steve is the one that made it."

He nodded, pulling me into a hug.

"Thank you for giving me a chance. I promise I won't mess this up."

I pulled away from him and kissed his cheek quickly.

"Bucky I love you. If you want to do this with me there is no way you could mess it up."

He smiled at me a genuine smile before kissing me gently. It was soft and caring and like a switch was flipped. When he pulled away he picked me up and I squealed, laughing as he buried his face in my neck.

"I love you too darlin'."

[ninappon]

Tag Game! Tagged by two sweet peeps, @nakey-cats-take-bathsss & @togetherkru. Thank you ladies 😘

1. Why did you choose your url?

I was creating a sort of travel/life blog and wanted a name that connected me to Japan since I was studying there at the time. I asked around for suggestions and someone came up with a mash-up of my name, Nina, and Nippon (Japan in japanese), resulting in ninappon. Now I use this for all my various accounts :)

2. Any side blogs?

Not on here, no. My travel blog is probably dormant somewhere, I haven't checked it for a few years...

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

I don't even remember! Probably since sometime around 2008, or maybe even when tumblr was brand new. I was probably only active for a few months, and then I came back here a little over a year ago when I started reading fanfics and noticed that many writers had their blogs here.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Honestly, I've been wondering for ages about various people's different queue tags and what they meant!! This question here made me realize that it's used for queuing a post for a later time... right?!

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

To use as a sort of journal I guess. I'm disappointed that I didn't keep it up to be honest, I miss writing but I never felt like I had much to write about. These days I'm only reblogging things and doing tag games.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I wanted something that showed off a little of who I am without being an actual profile pic.

7. Why did you choose your header?

As with the icon, I wanted something that reflects a little of what I like/what I'm drawn to, so I chose a flower photo I took a few years ago. Flowers, sunshine and pastels, that's my jam!

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

One of my photography posts of flowers, haha! ☝️

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Oh, I haven't counted but there's a bunch of wonderful people who I'm very glad to have connected with through the bellarke fandom! Seeing a notification from a mutual always brightens my day 💕

10. How many followers do you have?

Hm, not sure. I don't think the number I see is accurate, and I have a bunch of pornbots following me as well. My guess is around 25?

11. How many people do you follow?

Tumblr says 60, but again I don't think this is accurate. Maybe 30-40?

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

No? Not even sure what that is.

13. How often do you use tumblr a day?

Probably around two times a day, unless I'm trying to do a tag game on my breaks while at work then the number goes way up 😂

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog?

No, thank goodness!

15. How do you feel about the ‘you need to reblog’ posts?

I want to support creators if I can, but sometimes I feel like I reblog way too many posts so I also try to keep the number down.

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes! Don't hesitate to send them my way!

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes, but I can find it really difficult to answer those questions so I have only done it once or twice. I also don't have that many followers so usually it feels unnecessary to even try since not many will see it anyway.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I've always been in awe of @nakey-cats-take-bathsss, @togetherkru and @burninghoneyatdusk and their creations that they post here, so I'll go with them!

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I'm sorta copying both Leah and Phanou here but I'd say I have a few "friend crushes"! I've met so many lovely mutuals through tumblr and I think it'd be nice to meet them and see if we hit it off in real life as well. You know, if distance and my social anxiety wasn't an issue.

20. No-pressure tags: @infp-with-all-the-feelings, @bookwormforalways, @heartbellamy, @moreflowersthanweeds, @burninghoneyatdusk, @igotbellarkeforthat, @bellamyblake, @excuseyouclarke, @talistheintrovert, @kinetic-elaboration & @helloeurydice 👋

[lesbian-deadpool]

The Assistant

Part Two Of Two: And There Was Funny Business

Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Platonic!Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 3,886

Warnings: I don’t think there is anything. It is mostly dialogue tho.

Request: For the @ryostephi who donated to the Australian Bushfires. (I’m sorry the tag doesn't work)

Summary: When was retirement again?

A/N: I am shocked at how much I got wrong in the first part, after re-watching Iron Man 2 as I wrote this part, and for that, I am so sorry lol. So... I know there’s still a lot of Tony in this... and I have no excuse, other than it’s based in Iron Man 2, and there's not much “Natalie” plot for me to go off of, and have it be all that good (in my opinion). So, I hope you don’t mind lol.

(Not my GIF)

***

“Explain!” Tony practically ordered you, his voice close to a screech, more than anything else.

“I’m an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you told him blankly.

“Yes, I see that-!”

“How?” Natasha started, “I- I mean you can't be an Agent, I would have seen you.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is a big place, Natasha.”

“You always knew who I was.” She leaned back in her seat, beside Fury, regarding you.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course I did.”

“Agent Y/L/N here, has been away for business for a short amount of time now,” Fury informed them, gesturing a hand to you.

“No offence, Nick. But I don’t think eight months, is a short amount of time,” you replied, causing the man to scoff softly at you, his lips quirking in a small smile.

“So, that’s where you’ve been, this whole time?”

You tuned to Tony. “Yeah, that’s why slept so much when I got back.”

“Anyway,” Fury began, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, as he spoke to Tony, “You’ve been very busy. You made your girl your CEO, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit-”

“Wait. Hold, up,” You paused him, raising a hand, “Rhodey took a suit?”

“He sure as hell did.” Fury said. “Now, if I didn’t know better-”

“You don’t know better. I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

“Oh, well that's better,” you said offhandedly, as you rested your chin in your hand, watching the conversation go down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s right.” he pointed at you. “He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walks in there, kicked your ass and took your suit? Is that possible?” He turned to Natasha.

“Well, according to Mr Starks database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorised usage.”

“Whoa, those were some big words...”

Tony snorted softly at both your words and hers. While Natasha threw you a light glare.

“What do you want from me?”

And that was the hidden queue you were looking for. Knowing what was coming next. You sat up straight in your seat, ready to make the move.

“What do we want from you?” And there Natasha goes, sliding out of her seat. You followed in her lead. Pulling yourself up by the table, and spinning yourself around to sit next to Fury. “Uh-uh. What do you want from me?” He continued, repeatedly pointing to the man, as you wore a shit-eating grin by his side, the scene almost painting out like you were watching your sibling getting chewed out by your parent. “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the centre of my universe.”

“But I am, right?” He raised a lone finger to you, without even looking, to silence you, as you only smiled harder.

“I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with.” You rolled your eyes as your boss continued rant, wanting for this to be over. When your eyes spotted Natasha coming back.

Fury snapped his fingers, and told Natasha to, “Hit him.”

Tony let out a startled sound, moving back in pain. “Oh, God, are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?” He asked as Natasha checked his neck over, sitting down beside him, and watching the poisoned veins recede, “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?”

Turning to you and Fury, he continued to ask, “What she just do to me?”

“What did we just do for you,” Fury corrected him.

“Hey, that cleared up the Matrix puzzle, really well.” You smiled.

“That’s lithium dioxide. It's gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work,” The man by your side explained, “You should thank Agent Y/L/N over here, she was the one who requested it, and made our Science Department's lives a living hell, until we got it.”

“Wait. You had something to do with this?” Tony asked, turning to you, notes of touch in his voice, showing you he had just realised how much you truly cared for him.

“Of course I did,” you scoffed, “You really think I was gonna let you die?”

You watched as billionaire’s lips twitched in a smile, before he returned to his stoic, guarded nature.

“Give me a couple boxes of that. I’ll be right as rain.”

“It’s not a cure, it just abates the symptoms.”

“Yeah, what the thesaurus said, over there,” you agreed, gesturing to the red-head. Who in turn kicked you “lightly” in the shin. Making you hiss out a small, “Ow.”

Not paying you mind, Fury continued, studying the other man's neck, “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix.”

“It never is with us,” you said.

“Trust me, I know. I’m good at this stuff.” You could see behind Tony’s eyes just how helpless he was feeling. “I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

“Am I the only one here who didn’t understand a word of that?” you asked the table, “No? Am I being ignored? That’s nice.”

You weren’t being ignored, however. If the smirk, that was quickly wiped away, that Natasha wore was any indication.

“Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven't tried them all.”

“Well... on that note.” You spoke, “I think it’s time I took my leave.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Tony told you childishly.

Well... two could play at that game.

“Yeah, well at least Rhodey and Pepper aren’t mad at me,” you fired back, as you got up from your seat. Practically hearing the man's jaw drop behind you.

***

“Antony Stark!” you yelled, as you strolled through the open door to Pepper’s office.

“What did I do now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did you do now’?” you seethed at him, coming closer.

“Anything else, boss?” Happy asked.

“I’m good, Hap.”

“No, I’ll be just... another minute,” Tony and Pepper said at the same time.

“Well, that was awkward,” you said.

“I lost all three of the kids in the divorce,” Tony laughed at his own joke. “Nothing?” he asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder at you and The Head Of Security. “No.”

Tony cleared his throat.

Oh, don’t do it.

“Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Enterprises?”

You were so gonna throttle him.

“Your name is Natalie, isn’t it.”

Murder.

That’s what shone in your eyes, as your nostrils flared, just as it did Natasha’s.

“I thought you two didn’t get along,” the billionaire gestured between the two.

He better shut his mouth.

“No. That’s not so,” Pepper told him.

“It’s just me you don’t care for.” Pepper said nothing in reply. “No? Nothing?”

“Actually, while you’re here, maybe you and Natalie could discuss the matter of the personal belongings.”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said.

“Which loosely translates to, ‘get your shit out of my office’,” you informed the man.

“Yes, I got that. Thank you, Y/N.” You nodded your head once at him, with a fake smile plastered upon your face. You were so gonna kick his ass.

Tony watched as Pepper walked away. The blonde giving you a short nod as she passed you, and exited the office with Happy.

“I’m surprised you could keep your mouth shut,” Natasha said, as soon as the coast was clear. Making Tony spin around in the chair once again.

“Boy, you’re good. You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it? You just tear things... you’re a triple imposter.” Tony turned to you. “Can you do that?”

“Of course I can, I'm a professional.”

“How did you even get into this business?”

“Later,” you told him.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” he continued, turning back to Natasha, “Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?”

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” Natasha responds immediately, gathering up documents, and beginning to take her leave.

“It turns out she can.” You shrugged.

“Which means? Wait. What? What did you just say?”

“It means you can drive yourself home or I can have you, and Miss Y/L/N, collected.”

“Wait what did I do?” You asked insulted, “Also, that’s not what she said.”

Natasha chose not to answer you. Instead, choosing to say, “Control him.”

“You think I can?” You asked the shorter woman, spinning to watch her walk away as you did.

“Hey!” Tony whined behind you. “You’re good!” he called to the red-head, as she slammed the door.

“Well...” You looked at Tony. “That was a shit-show. What the hell are you doing?” you asked, as he fiddled with one of Pepper’s ornaments. “What? Not talking to me?” Sighing he stood up, taking a bite out of a strawberry, before dumping the rest into the trash. “That’s a waste. And, yeah, no it's fine. I didn’t want any, anyway.”

You sighed, throwing your head back in exasperation, as you watched the man looking at the scale-model up against the wall. Who was currently peering through his hand, as if it was some sort of a telescope.

It really was like having a child dealing with him, sometimes... most times.

“Help me with this.”

“What?”

***

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THIS PLACE?!” you roared, taking in all of the destruction around.

Yep. You were never having kids.

“I made a new element!” Tony told you proudly.

“You. Made. A new. Element.”

“Yes? Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I-... How?!”

“It’s all... science stuff. You really want me to tell you?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. Not really.”

You took another look around the place, slowly inhaling and exhaling, as you nodded your head. “Well. Well done.”

“Thanks. It worked,” Tony said, showing you his chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You smiled. “Now... why are you assembling a suit?”

“Vanko’s still alive.”

You stared blankly at Tony for a moment. Watching him. Making sure that he wasn’t bullshitting you. When you deducted, that he was in fact, telling the truth, you asked, “He’s what?”

***

The absolute deafening cheering going on around you did nothing to drown out the sound of your heartbeat pounding away in your ears, as you were bent over your encased legs, hands on your knees, hoping that you could manage to pant away your incoming panic attack.

You had to.

You had a job to do right now.

Vaguely you registered Tony say, “We got trouble” inside of your metal helmet.

“Tony, there are civilians present,” Rhodey said, as you followed Tony on unsteady legs, “I’m here on orders. Let’s not do this right now.”

“God,” you breathed, “I hated every second of that.”

You mirrored the man you thought of as your brother, on Rhodey’s other side. Waving to the crowd, as Tony told you too.

“All these people are in danger. We gotta get them out of here,” Tony said, “You gotta trust me for the next five minutes.”

“Yeah, I tried that. I got tossed around your house, remember?”

“Listen, I think he’s working with Vanko.”

“Of course the sonofabitch is,” you growled, glaring at the man through the mask of your borrowed suit.

“Vanko’s alive?” Rhodey asked, slightly sceptical. Which he had a right too. God, knows how you didn’t want to belive Tony. But you knew he believed Tony, he would never lie about this.

As Tony squared up to Hammer, asking him about Venko. You scanned the crowd, looking for two people in particular.

“Found Natasha and Pepper,” you notified him.

“Who’s Natasha?” Rhodey asked. You we’re about to answer him, before he continued, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“What’s up-? Holy shit!”

You jumped back in alarm, at the giant mini-gun attached to Rhodey’s back, moved to aim at Tony.

“Is that you?” Tony asked.

“No. That- I’m not doing that. I’m not doing that,” he stuttered, you could hear the panic rising in his voice, “I can’t move. I’m locked up. I’m locked up!”

"Motherfucker!" you hollered, stumbling back, as the military-themed drones pointed their arms towards Tony, too. Getting ready to fire.

"Get out of her. Go! This whole system's been compromised," Rhodey ordered.

"Y/N, with me," Tony said, "Let's take this outside."

"Oh, God, that means I have to fly again."

And with that, he blasted off, with you hot on his trail. As the drones and Rhodey's compromised suit started to rain fire on Tony, and consequently, you... and the glass ceiling. I think Vanko might have taken that phrase a little too seriously.

"Uh-Oh." You wished you hadn't looked down now. "Tony, incoming."

"Jarvis, break-in. I need to own him."

"Weird way to word it there, buddy," you quipped, "Are we really fucking doing this?"

"Yep. We're really fucking doing this."

***

"Tony?" You asked as you landed next to the crashed men, "How good did you say the filtration in the suit was?"

"It's pristine. Why?"

"Because I just pissed myself."

Just then Tony and Rhodey -Or rather, Rhodey's suit- began fighting.

"Oh, shit, Tony! How do you work this hunk of metal?!"

"Just go with your instinct's!"

"Oh, yeah. That helps!" you yelled, looking at your palms, where the repulsers lay. "Come on, you piece of shit! WORK!"

Well, you got it to work. However, the bright light shot out and hit you square in your mask. But, hey! You still got it two work! Silver-lining people!

"Ow," you uttered as you fell, landing on your back in a daze.

To say you were useless with these things, was an understatement.

You finally regained yourself, a few long seconds later. And had seen that Tony had managed to kick Rhodey's ass, as you got up on wobbly legs.

"Hey, guys? Can we not tell Natasha what just happened?"

"Not tell me what?"

You jumped at the sudden sound of her voice. Since when did she have access to talk through the suit?

"Nothing!" you spoke hastily.

Natasha hummed, not believing you, moving on to her next point, "Reboot complete. You got your best friend back."

"Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff."

"Well done with the new chest piece. I am reading significantly higher output and all your vitals look promising."

"Yes, for the moment, I'm not dying. Thank you."

"This moment better last long," you mumbled.

"What do you mean you're not dying?" Pepper? When did she get here? "Did you say you're dying."

Oh, God. This is awkward. It's so awkward.

"Is that you? No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't want to alarm you."

"You were going to tell me? You really were dying?"

You were glad the suit hid the cringe on your face, as you were trapped here, to bare witness to this, a confession. Your metal hand coming up to scratch, uselessly, at your metal helmet, out of awkward discomfort.

"You didn't let me-"

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Pepper interrupted.

"I was gonna make you an omelette and tell you."

"Yeah, because omelettes make death confessions, so much better," you quipped, only to have it fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, hey. Save it for the honeymoon."

"Yeah, because they're gonna fight on their honeymoon..." You took all of a second to think about it, before changing your statement. "You know what, I don't doubt that."

"You've got incoming guys," Natasha continued. "Looks like the fight's coming to you."

"Awesome," you said sarcastically.

"Try to hit them and not yourself this time," Tony told you.

After this was done... he's a dead man.

"Pepper?"

Oh no, not this again.

"Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine. Don't be mad. I will formally apologize-"

"I am mad!" she yelled, and you sighed, getting into a fighting stance.

"-When I'm not fending off a Hammeroid attack.

"Fine."

"We could have been in Venice."

"And I could have been asleep."

"What is it with you and sleep?" Natasha asked.

"It's sleep!"

***

“She fights like a badass,” Happy breathed, inside you helmets. While you watched as drones landed all around you.

“I know, I’ve seen her.”

“Stalking much?” You could hear the smirk in her voice.

“You say that like you didn’t look me up when you found out I was an Agent.”

“You’re an Agent?!” Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper yelled at the same time.

“Old news guys, however makeshift terminators over here? New news.”

And then the fighting started.

Just like you would be on the field, splatters of battle coted you. But rather than blood, this time it was oil that painted your suit, as you tore, shot, and blew up drones.

Okay. So the suit wasn't all bad.

Tony told you and Rhodes to 'get down'. You watched as bright neon red lasers, chopped through the drones -and trees-, like a hot knife through butter.

"Can you show me how to do that?" you asked.

***

"Heads up. You got one more drone incoming," Natasha said. "This one looks different."

"What?" you asked, "Like it's got a makeover?"

"No," she said clearly, "Like the repulser signature is significantly higher."

"So, it's a boss drone then?"

Any reply Natasha had for you were cut off, thanks to the giant-sized Iron Man suit landing in front of you.

Oh, could this get any worse?

Yes. Yes, it could.

The real-life, yet no way friendly, Iron-Giant's face retracted back. Revealing, Ivan Vanko.

"God, that's not a good makeover."

"I swear to God, Y/N, I will disable your microphone."

"Hey, you two. Stop flirting," Rhodey said.

"Good to be back," Vanko said. Unknown to what you were saying, and, thankfully, to how your cheeks tinted red at Rhodey's words.

"Oh, this ain't gonna be good."

"Yeah, you're telling me," you agreed. "Ah! Whippy-things!" You moved back, startled, at Vankos sudden weapons.

"I got something special for this guy." Rhodey strutted up towards him. "I'm gonna bust his bunker with the Ex-Wife."

"The what now, please?"

"With the what?" You and Tony asked at the same time.

You waited in anticipation, watching as the shoulder of Rhodey's suit opened, and counted down. Blasting off a tiny missile right at Vanko. Which hit him. Then dropped to the ground, and fizzled out.

"Hammer tech?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah."

You flew up into the sky, shooting Vanko from above, as the other two fought on the ground. It was gonna take a lot to bring this sonofabitch down. Tony flew up to join you but didn't get far, as two bright blue whips latched themselves onto both you and Tony. Smashing Tony into a rock. And flinging you into a corner of the closed-off park. The last thing you heard before blacking out, was their voices shouting your name.

***

You awoke as you were flying through the air.

No, wait.

You weren't flying.

You were heaved over Rhoedy's shoulder, as he flew.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Hey, glad to see you're awake." Rhodey's smile could be heard in his voice. "The drones are set to self destruct."

"Did we beat him?"

"Yeah, we did," he said, as explosions were heard and seen, all across your view.

"Oh, my God! I can't take this anymore."

Great. Just when you had thought you had finally gained a minute of peace.

"You can't-?"

God, was this just their relationship?

"I can't take this."

"-Look at me."

Yep.

"My body, literally, cannot handle the stress." You peered up at Rhodey, from your seat on the floor, the man only shrugging at your silent question of, 'what the fuck?'. You both turning back to watch the two lovebirds have their spat. "I never know if you're gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company."

“I think I did okay!” Tony defended himself when there was a sudden explosion far in the background.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled, only the man sitting beside you able to hear what you said. Him chuckling lightly at your words.

"I quit. I'm resigning," Pepper panted, "That's it."

"What did you just say? You're done?"

Did they really have to do this shit in front of you?

Did they really have to be so blind, not to notice you and Rhodey right beside them?

Did you really have to have no popcorn to enjoy, as you watched this?

"That's surprising," Tony said, walking towards her, "No, it's not surprising. I get it. You don't have to make any excuses."

Pepper stuttered. "I'm not making any excuses."

You eyes rolled as far back into your head as they possibly could. Luckily for you, missing some of what the bickering couple said.

"You deserve better."

"Well..."

"You've taken such good care of me." Were those... tears in Tony's voice? "I've been in a tough spot, but you got me through it, so... right?"

They muttered some words that you couldn't hear all that well.

Blah, Blah, Blah.

And then they kissed.

A look of disgust appearing upon your face. And you were thankful that you, in fact, did not have that popcorn, you whished for not long ago.

"I thought it was weird." You snapped back into reality, from your unexpected daze, at Rhodey's words.

Thank, God. They had stopped kissing.

"You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

“Hey, hey, now Rhodey." You put your hand up to the man. "That's an insult to seals and grapes."

Rhodey laughed beside you, as the previously kissing couple grew uncomfortable and fidgety.

"Don't even try to make excuses," you told them.

"Yeah, we heard the whole thing."

“You two should get lost,” Tony says to you and Rhodey.

"We were here first," the Colonel defended. "Get a roof."

"Yeah, and I'm fine, by the way. Thank's for asking." You smirked.

"I thought you two were out of one-liners."

"That's the last one."

"Speak for yourself," you said standing up. "Oh, also. I am never getting into one of these flying hell suits ever again.”

“Aww, don't say that. You’ll hurt its feelings.”

"I don't care."

"Oh, yeah? Well, how are you gonna get home then?"

"After I get home," you clarified. "I am never getting into one of these things, ever again."

“Don’t lie. You like the suit. Now,” he said, gesturing his head to the side, “Go get your girl.”

“What? There’s no way I’m going anywhere near one of those things.”

Oh, she was still here, was she?

“Oh, c’mon Romanoff.” You smirked, taking flight, “Fly away with me.”

“Not a chance.”

You landed in front of the red-head, exiting the building. Startling her as you did.

"Agent Romanoff." You smirked, throwing your arms out by your sides. If she didn't know better, Natasha would have assumed you were Tony. "Your ride has arrived."

"Get away from me."

***

“So...” you started, looking towards the red-head standing beside you, looking out onto the ocean below you, “Wanna go out on a date?”

Natasha turned to face you properly, a small smile on her face, “I thought you’d never ask, Y/L/N.” Stepping closer, her hand on your bicep, she continued, “Tonight. We’ll watch a movie in my cabin.”

You smiled.

“Only a movie,” she clarified, “No funny business.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Romanoff.”

[lambourngb]

it takes love to make this work - cheerleaders

Day 7 (Belated) This time last year I was slowly moving from lurker to participant in fandom. I can’t tell you how much my life has changed since then, from finishing and publishing work in fandom, to finding discord, to finally seeing my work on a rec post. Like if you had asked past me if any of that was going to happen, I would have laughed myself sick.

This journey though wasn’t traveled alone- so here are really a few (like criminally few - because there’s so many people to thank!!) people that altered my life in positive ways.

The muse wranglers:

First, I mean it’s probably not a secret because if you ask me about Last Year’s Wishes, I will talk your ear off about how it was written, but it wouldn’t exist without @ninswhimsy. 2019 was a trashfire for both of us, and the only thing keeping me sane was trading DMs about sad head canons, and then chucking clumps of my never ending story at her. She helped me iron out details, sent me the encouraging crying emojis and held my hand through all of it. Guess what? That experience didn’t scare her away, and I pretty much would have never written “Leave the Fire Burning” if it hadn’t been for her. It also helps that we are twins in how we view the canon- critical but still loving those dumbass characters. 

@tasyfa : As someone who doesn’t read serials, I love that you offered your services just based on knowing I was writing a long, canon compliant story. Of course, once I had you, I wasn’t letting you go! Thank you so much for being endlessly patient with my repeated grammatical errors, polishing the awkward sentences, and giving this needy author just enough head-pats to keep me going. One day I will finish more work for you to make legible. ❤️

The forces of positivity/promotion

@queersirius  you write, you comment, you gif, you vid, and you give back with beautiful rec sets- if you told me you also fight crime, I would believe it because you have superpowers in my head. My dash would be a darker place without you. I’m so glad you never sleep or your queue is perfectly timed - either way, I love our interactions. I doubly treasure the two rec posts you made for me, like omg I still get shivers looking at the gifs.

@jumbled-nonsense - I have a screenshot where you read and liked all the 24 bits of Last Years Wishes, turning my quiet notification day of one or two, until an explosion of color. Thank you so much for supporting my story, making me art, and helping me make it the best it could be - ❤️❤️❤️ I was in a low spot, of feeling like what I was doing was something only I wanted? I really needed that reassurance that there was an audience for my vision of a season 1 fixit.

The feedbackers :  

@arielana: I’m so glad you’re on tumblr and already making it a more positive place, not that I was surprised. Your comments on my work are always so thoughtful, encouraging and usually way too much for my fragile heart to handle - the fact you love LYW like you do, that you reread and comment again? It’s almost unbelievable. Your efforts are noticed, appreciated, and help me keep my jerk-brain in check. Thank you.

@zuluoscarecho: Oh my friend, I know season 2 was rough but thank you for hanging in there with me, I love your messages, I love your promotion of malex, I love your comments- everything you bring to my dash is appreciated. When LYW was just a bunch of WIP Wednesday and Six Sentence Sunday scraps, you reblogged every one and left me delightful notes in your tags. That was true fuel to keep going. I treasured your asks about the writing process, because then I could fake it like I knew what I was doing, so thank you! And I still have a trio of your comments on my latest to answer, but I couldn’t let this cheerleader day go without giving you some love.

@jocarthage I might have called Millie a superhero up-thread, but you also share that cape for me. You bring so many interesting facets of knowledge to discord, you write beautifully complex stories, you support fellow writers with feedback within the process and afterwards in a comment. We are all clinging to fandom spaces a little tighter these days, and with that anxiety, sometimes I personally have to fight off some darkness - but your example is a true light to me. I can’t always follow in your footsteps, but that makes me appreciate your efforts even more. I also lack words to describe how beautiful and wonderful your comments are (still have some to answer on ‘Leave the Fire Burning’). I’m forever grateful you use your spoons the way you do in fandom. Thank you.

The collaborative canon-therapy group:

@soberqueerinthewild, @el-gilliath, @christchex @haloud - thank you guys for being there for me. I can bring you my brightest thoughts and my darkest thoughts, and there’s no judgment. Picking through the twists and turns of this silly show about aliens is richer with you guys around. 

[mendesmelancholy]

Marks - Chapter 1

A Shawn Mendes Series

Chapter 2 Synopsis: A series where Shawn meets a fan in a tattoo parlour and gets a matching tattoo with her which sparks an unexpected dynamic between two people, learning how to love regardless of their mental illnesses. Warnings: mentions of past self harm Word Count: 4k Author’s Note: I’m actually so unbelievably excited to share this series with you. A massive thank you goes to @shawnscheekscar​ who helped me figure out this idea and let me talk about my ideas and encourage them. I think this series is so important to people our age who suffer with mental illnesses on what a healthy relationship is. It is possible to be loved and to love. And I hope this series shows you that. With love, Isabella x Post A.N.: If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!

     The last thing he expects when he walks into the tattoo parlour was for his song to be playing over the speakers. The heavy sound of the needle moving swirls with, yet contrasts against the gentle picking of the guitar flowing through the small space. He bites at his lip, trying to hide the smile so unmistakably tugging at his cheeks. He adores the tattoo artist’s sense of humour, and whilst some singers find a tattoo artist listening to their music uncanny, especially if the artist was unaware they would be early, he found it flattering and amusing.

     He unconsciously starts humming along to the end of the song, walking up to the counter and ringing the bell, placing the cardboard coffee carrier he’s holding on the counter. The music was so powerful he isn’t sure the artist could hear it, but he waits and he glances around the parlour. 

     The artist, Tony, had made a house call to his apartment in Los Angeles when Shawn was around and wanted his new ink. Now, Shawn insisted he actually came into the parlour this time, that Tony driving all the way across LA for a small tattoo was idiotic and Shawn was more than able to make time in his hectic schedule to drive to the parlour. He’s glad he did, as the parlour is spotless compared to his messy bachelor pad apartment, with a receptionist desk pushed up against the left wall and comfortable lounge chairs in a circle on the right side of the room. The walls are dark grey and the floors are gleaming white marble, contrasted by the black furniture and picture frames littered in the lobby.

     Shawn peaks down the narrow hallway, the several tiny areas sectioned off for each individual tattoo artist. He only hears one gun going along with the song slowly fading out. He glances at the clock on the wall above the desk and saw the gleaming 5:55 am. He originally figured Tony would open early for him to avoid any gawking fans or nosey people. He didn’t think there was someone before him.

     And on top of his song playing over the speakers, Shawn certainly doesn’t expect for it to loop back and start over again. That’s when he hears a small voice that doesn’t belong to Tony speak up,

     “Thank you for letting me listen to this song whilst you do this tattoo.”

     “Of course,” Tony’s hoarse voice matches his appearance. It was deep and burly - just like Tony. His entire body was covered in tattoos and his head was shaven, “You’re getting a tattoo for it. It’d be dumb if you didn’t listen to the song.”

     Shawn’s breath catches in his throat at Tony’s comment. He grasps his coffee from the carrier and cautiously steps forward, closer to the voices.

     “How’d you get his handwriting?”

     “Jenny met him at LAX and got it for me. She was waiting at the airport for me to get in and my flight had been delayed and she saw him in the queue for coffee. She had gone up to him and gotten him to write it out for me. By the time I saw her, he was gone,” she lets out a soft laugh and Tony replies, but Shawn’s brain is elsewhere.

     He wracks his brain for the memory and finds it concealed away somewhere in the corner. He remembers the girl coming up to him. He can’t remember what she looked like, other than her light brown hair and full smile. She briefly mentioned she was waiting for her friend’s flight to get in and her friend had been dying to get him to write a tattoo out for her. He didn’t think much of it as it was 4:03 am and he didn’t process the word ‘tattoo’. But, he smiled slackly, took a picture with the girl and wrote out the tattoo in Sharpie. The girl thanked him over and over again before finally answering her phone that had been vibrating ever since he started writing the lyrics on the back of a piece of paper - with what he assumed was her friend’s flight information.

     Shawn’s initial small smile he donned when he walked in the door was now a full-blown grin as he gets closer to Tony’s station. He remains silent, Tony’s glance flickering to him quickly before dropping his left eye into a small wink and turning back to the girl sitting in the tattoo chair. It clicks for Shawn then. Tony knew the girl was coming in with Shawn’s lyrics, early one morning and arranged Shawn’s appointment to be right after hers. Whether the interaction was for Shawn or the girl was unclear, but he can’t help but think Tony is a fucking genius. 

     Shawn cranes his neck to see the tattoo he’s working on. It’s on the girl’s upper right thigh, all the way at the top where her joint is. He notices the faint glow of red on her skin from the irritation of the needle and the blood Tony periodically wipes from her skin. The thick letters of his writing are permanently being embedded in her skin right before his very eyes. Also embedded in her skin are thick, white lines. Scarring, that was certainly intentional. Her tan, olive tone skin shows the white lines very clearly. Some of them are tinted with pink, suggesting they aren’t especially new, but they are the most recent ones out of the dozens, maybe even hundreds, on her legs. Shawn feels his smile dim slightly, trying to think of whether or not the lyrics he originally wrote down are being tattooed in a positive or negative light, ‘Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t - it isn’t in my blood.’

     He looks at the girl, noticing her dark, curly brown hair pulled up into a ponytail and the several piercings in her ears. Two are in her lobes with three more in her cartilage. Shawn shifts to the other wall to get a better look at the girl and the work Tony was doing. He wonders to himself if he should make his presence known or simply sip his coffee and observe and do what would be considered eavesdropping. He decides on the latter, knowing the perfect moment to introduce himself would occur when it was ready and he shouldn’t force it.

     Tony starts the word ‘like’ on her tattoo when she speaks again, in the same delicate voice she uttered in earlier, “Thanks for the other few tattoos. Sorry I’ve gotten so many today.

     “Not a problem, dear. They’re on the house anyway.”

     “No way,” her voice is quiet yet rigid, surprising Shawn slightly as she sits up, “I’m paying you.”

     "Dear-"

     Her voice is now a whisper, "No, Tony-" 

     “-It’s the least I can do,” he glances up at her with a look in his eyes and a character in his voice Shawn thinks is a mix of guilt and regret and sorrow and she pauses, sighing and settling back in her seat.

     “Okay,” she’s quiet afterward, “I’m gonna change the song.” She changes the topic as Shawn senses the unease rolling off her shoulders at what appears to be a heavy topic.

     “If you’re sure,” Tony’s voice is back to its original tone, the flicker of history gone as soon as it had appeared. The girl being in early made more sense if Tony knew her from somewhere else. He was too young for her to be her daughter and their body language was too foreign for them to be brother and sister. Shawn tries to decipher the dynamic between them when the song suddenly switches. 

     The introduction of the song seems tame, but fifteen seconds in, the guitars drop into a sequence of riffs, the drums crash and the bass threads through the speakers and scares the absolute shit out of Shawn. He yelps, the original quiet ambience of the tattoo parlour gone as the heavy rock song takes over. His coffee hits the floor with an unappealing smack, his beverage spilling all over the meticulous marble floors.

     “God damn motherfucking shit,” he swears, lurching to Tony’s metal tray next to the chair and fumbling for the roll of paper towels.

     The girl squeaks in surprise, shifting to look at the commotion as Tony stops his work and starts laughing. He switches the needle off and puts it down, handing Shawn some paper towels as he and Shawn bend down to clean up the hot coffee.

     “Goddamnit, I’m so sorry,” Shawn splutters, his cheeks heating up to a temperature that feels hotter than the coffee and keeps his head down.

     “Oh my God,” the girl whispers, recognising the curly brown hair from anywhere. She looks down at his hands to confirm her suspicions. There lays a swallow tattoo and it sends her into a spiral. Whether it was from her lack of sleep, the amount of caffeine in her blood, the pain of her tattoo or the shock of seeing the man who wrote a song that meant more to her than she could put into words - she becomes unstable. She leans back in her chair, looking at the ceiling as her mind fumbles to find a way to cope with the dizziness and anxiety that has crawled its way into her throat. 

     The steady strumming of the lone electric guitar grabs her attention and makes her listen to the song. She shuts her eyes and concentrates, “I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable, reserve my right to feel afraid, I make mistakes and I am humbled every step of the way, I want to be a better person, I wanna know the master plan, Cast your stones, cast your judgement, you don't make me who I am,” she shakily murmurs along to the lyrics of the song, trying to steady the pounding of her heart and the fuzziness in her head. The lyrics repeat in the song and she follows, eventually, the melody coaxing her out of her head and into a calm state.

     Shawn doesn’t hear her mumbling to herself or even notice she recognises him, as he’s down on his hands and knees, soaking up the coffee as Tony laughs at the fright. Tony helps, not saying a word to Shawn as he throws the soaked paper towels in the bin, holding out a hand to Shawn so he can throw Shawn’s away as well. Shawn gives him a sheepish smile, walking around the chair, glancing at the girl with her eyes closed and immediately panics,

     “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asks hurriedly. The girl’s eyes snap open and she takes a sharp breath at his proximity. It takes her a moment, but she answers with an exhale,

     “Yeah, I’m good.” She runs her hand through her hair, giving him a weak smile. He nods, reading the anxiety on her face with ease as he understands the look well. A look he’s all too familiar with when he would look in the mirror. He turns away, giving her space as he turns to the small sink on the counter of Tony’s station. Next to the sink is a neat array of ink pigments, unopened needles and transfer paper. His station is just as meticulous as the lobby.

     When Shawn finishes washing his hands, he dries them off on his jeans, turning back to the girl who had been observing him. She doesn’t blush, but rather offers him a small smile,

     “Sorry, I’m not usually this anxious.”

     “I understand, honey,” he says, pointing to the empty seat in the corner of the room, behind Tony who’s changed his gloves and picked up the tattoo gun again. She nods in confirmation and Shawn notices the song switching to something still rock, but not quite as startling.

     “Hey, it’ll be a while longer,” Tony mentions to Shawn who takes a seat and looks at the girl. He notices her eyes, which are several shades darker than his, and the sunspots that decorate her sun-kissed cheeks. Her lips are rosy and plump, her upper teeth dug into her bottom lip as Tony presses the needle back into her skin. Shawn watches as Tony continues his work, fixated on the way his words are being inked into this girl’s skin, for the rest of her life.

     “That was nice of your friend,” Shawn finally states, looking up at the girl who makes eye contact with him at the sound of his voice. She sends him a small smile, grimacing a little as Tony’s needle moves closer to her inner thighs, the tender skin despising the pinch of the needle, 

     “Hey, it’s okay,” Shawn coos, getting up and pushing his chair closer to hers. He sits in his chair, laying a hand on hers which is gripping the edge of the tattoo chair.

     “Told you it’d be sensitive,” Tony grunts, trying to move quickly, but accurately so he can start the line beneath it and move from the fragile space.

     “Shut up, Tony,” she replies quietly and Shawn laughs. Tony rolls his eyes in a light-hearted manner, continuing his work.

     “You can hold my hand if you want,” Shawn tells her and she looks at him, nervous and unsure if he’s being serious. He nudges her hand with his and holds out his palm for her to take if she wants. She slowly nods and moves her hand from the death grip on the leather seat to the soft hand held out to her. Her hand is much more petite than his as she threads her fingers in between his. He nods encouragingly at her, ignoring the tickle in his stomach, while she relaxes and drops her head back against the chair.

      “Thank you,” she sighs.

     “My pleasure.” His touch seems to relax her, her shoulders releasing themselves from the tight position that hugged her neck. She rolls her head to the side to look at Shawn,

     “I’m also pretty good with pain.”

     “This is the most reaction I’ve ever seen out of you,” Tony comments, finishing the comma after ‘up’ and moving to the outer part of her thigh where the ‘but’ is stencilled under the freshly tattooed ‘sometimes’. She audibly lets out a groan of relief, her grip on Shawn’s hand lightening, but not completely letting go.

     “It’s also 6 am, you’re allowed to be all of these things,” Shawn’s voice eases over her pain and anxiety like butter and she nearly melts at the tone. Her rough exterior which usually occupies her face and posture is gone, the exhaustion and pain catching up to her and letting her put her guard down. The girl who claims to have a stern voice and high pain tolerance is gone and replaced with the anxious, tired girl who’s having a hard time with this tattoo. Whether it was Shawn startling her that set her nerves ablaze, the change of a heavy song to a smooth song or the exhaustion catching up to her was not certain, he just hopes she was okay and comfortable.

     “Thank you,” she yawns, closing her eyes as her small nose scrunches and the silent movement of her mouth takes over her features. He feels her arms tense slightly and her shoulders raise, but she relaxes them and settles back in her seat.

     “Of course, honey,” Shawn coos, gently rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

     “What are you getting done today?” She asks, trying to create a conversation. Shawn notices the delicate nature of her voice, a soft, silky tone that seems to suit her small stature, but powerful presence.

     “A butterfly… I’ve always wanted one,” he admits.

     “Can I see a picture?”

     “Of course, darling,” Shawn adds another pet name and it makes her cheeks flush, but Shawn doesn’t notice. His gaze turns towards his phone, his left hand never leaving hers. She looks at him with interest, noticing the small things like his hair being free of product, his curls sticking every which way. His cheeks are flushed from she assumes was exhaustion, but what she didn’t know, it was really from the warmth of her fingers between his. He sports a worn, salmon jumper and black sweatpants, which both seem to fit him perfectly and swallow him whole. His normalcy at 6 am is comforting.

     When he finds the picture, he turns the phone to show the girl with curious eyes. Her face seems to light up, looking at the design,

     “Oh my god, you’re getting it?”

     Shawn chuckles, locking his phone and shoving it into his jumper, “Yeah.”

     “I think it looks fantastic, honestly,” she says, a little accent to her voice.

     “Where are you from?” He asks suddenly. She’s surprised at his attention to her broken tone.

     “I was born in America. I live in London for school and come back to America for the summer. Right now I’m doing a paid internship in New York.”

     “That’s incredible,” Shawn admires, watching her plump lips move. They glisten in the fluorescent lights of the tattoo parlour and he can’t help but wonder what they taste like.

     “Yeah, I love it in London, but I wouldn’t trade my internship for the world,” she smiles, glancing down briefly at the tattoo Tony was working on. Shawn follows her gaze, not daring to look any further up her, what seems like, silky skin. His eyes flicker over the scarring as they had earlier, noticing how deep most of them went. She notices his eyes trailing along with the scars,

     “This might be oversharing,” she starts, reaching over to the countertop where her coffee cup lays, almost as if she’s trying to distract herself, “But, the lyrics, kind of relate to those.” Shawn blushes at being caught staring at something so incredibly personal. He thinks he wouldn’t have ever known they were there if she wasn’t getting her tattoo on her leg, so why is he mindlessly staring at them?

     Her voice takes him out of his thoughts, “If you’d care to-”

     “-Of course,” he looks into her eyes and they’re warm and calm and seemingly open to sharing.

     “Well, the scars kind of represent how badly I wanted to end things, even though I didn’t have the courage,” she takes a deep breath, sipping at the coffee still in her hand, “But, I didn’t. I felt like giving up, but I couldn’t. And I got through it.”

     Shawn’s watching the way her eyes never leave his or show any sort of pain as she explains her thought process. There’s no pain from the tattoo or pain in her eyes. The peace remains and Shawn can’t help but feel completely and utterly at ease in her presence.

     “Yes, you did,” Shawn reassures her and she gives him a small smile. It’s so unbelievably genuine.

     “What’s the butterfly for?” She pries, taking the topic off herself again. Shawn quickly wonders to himself if she doesn’t like talking about herself. Or anything about her past. Her vague answers shed enough light on why she was getting the tattoo, but not what she went through which inspired her to get the tattoo. And Shawn thinks maybe she changed the subject so he wouldn’t have a chance to ask.

     “I’ve always had a fascination with them,” he admits, “They’re so delicate and beautiful in this incredibly dark world and I kind of want to get it as a reminder to stay positive and beautiful in dark times.”

     “That’s beautiful,” she admits, looking at the swallow on his hand and the guitar-shaped landscape on his arm. He takes a second to glance at her exposed skin for other tattoos. He notices a small satellite on the side of her left knee, wrapped in the tattoo bandage. His eyes follow the skin of her arm, noticing a healed tattoo on her left wrist, a new tattoo on her left forearm and another new tattoo on her inner bicep. The simple admiration of other artists work and the thought process of either of them is evident as silence takes over them, the details becoming evident to one another as they look at the swirling designs of ink.

     “You’re going in today, aren’t you?” Shawn teases quietly, already knowing the answer, trying to lighten the mood and match hers. She looks into his eyes, a certain emotion passing briefly, a flicker Shawn wants to stop and take a better look at. Her lips pull into a crooked smile instead of her small one,

     “Yeah. I’ve been saving up for ages. I just have a lot of ideas for tiny tattoos.”

     “She’s got a great mind on ‘er,” he comments, wiping away the blood around the word ‘can’t’ and starting the small dash before the words ‘it isn’t in my blood’ which are darker than the rest. She seems to blush at his words, ducking her head at the compliment. Shawn can sense her timidness and wants her to feel as comfortable as he does, so he changes the subject,

     “What other ones did you get today?”

     “Three. They’re all tiny. I got a 7 underneath next to my underarm, a rejection slip on my left calf and a ‘xo’ on my right upper calf in the corner.”

     “I like the placements,” Shawn comments, his eyes flickering to the places she mentioned. He can’t see the actual tattoo, but he can see the wrap around them. So, he looks at the girl in front of him, looking into her eyes which swirl with stories and history and emotions and thoughts and Shawn finds himself wanting to know all of them and he finds himself blurting out, “How about one more?”

     “Huh?” She asks, her head tilting to the side slightly.

     Shawn surprises himself at his own words, “I want to get a tattoo with you.”

     “You want to what?” Her voice squeaks. Shawn’s brain begins working a mile a minute at his impulse decision. A small bit of anxiety crawls in his throat at the sudden decision, as he always has to be one hundred per cent sure he wants a tattoo before he gets it, but something in his heart is telling him this idea is perfect, 

     “Well actually, not a new one, but... I think I want a second one today. And I need your help.” She’s watching with pure astonishment as she can see the gears turning in Shawn’s head. His eyes begin to squint and little wrinkles make crevices in his forehead as he thinks. He licks his lips, coming to rub at his lips with his thumb and forefinger, but never removing his hand from her.

     “How would you want to write out some lyrics for me, from ‘Something Big’?” He suggests, his voice slightly nervous whilst looking at the lyrics being tattooed on her leg. He would get the same placement, with different lyrics, in her handwriting. No matter where he would go, he would remember that his music helps people and that people relate to it. And he’d always remember the girl who got his handwriting permanently added to her skin.

     “You want my handwriting on you?”

     “Yeah,” Shawn replies, his voice more sure of his decision, “I want your handwriting on me.” He emphasises the same words she did.

     “Are you sure?” She asks, her voice small and timid as she asks the man she relates to more than she was willing to admit if he wants her handwriting on his skin forever, “I don’t want you to make an impulse decision.”

     “Do you believe in fate?” He asks her abruptly. Her brows furrow but she nods, “This feels like fate is screaming at me. Like, this is what I’m supposed to do,” he runs his fingers through his hair, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, “I can’t even describe it.”

     She brushes her lips with her tongue, watching him with uncertainty before looking at Tony. Tony is finishing the last word on her tattoo, nodding his head, encouraging her.

     “Okay. I’ll do it.”

[jenovahh]

Comm 02 - NSFW - Opulence

Rating: NC-17, Explicit Tags: Female!Reader, NTR, Cunnilingus, Oral Fixation, Penetration

The commissioner has chosen to remain anonymous, but I appreciate them very much for their patience and understanding!

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‘I’d like to go out sometime…’

You muse bitterly as you stroll down the busy sidewalk of Amaurot, huddling your dress coat as close to your body as possible. While making your own lunch would’ve been the smart thing to do, you’ve chosen instead to indulge today and eat your feelings by heading to your favorite local coffee shop. Sighing, you idly wish you had chosen to wear some slacks instead of the snug pencil skirt you were wearing. At the very least, your coat was good at keeping the top half of you warm.

Your boyfriend had all but swept out the door upon waking to go to work, merely grabbing his toast and coffee and giving you a peck on the cheek. Gone were the days where you would both rise to share eggs and bacon with each other each morning before heading to work, and you couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken about it.

Stepping inside the cafe, the warmth of baked goods and warm coffee wafts into your nose, and immediately your mood lightens. You wonder if you should order the usual; after all the clerks have already spotted you and waved in greeting. As much as you would be up to trying something different, you prefer the comfort of something familiar to soothe the ache in your heart.

Just as you prepare to step into a line, another man makes the same move. You let out a slight squeal as you nearly bump into him, to which that seems to gain his attention. “Oh, excuse me miss. Were you in line?”

The man’s voice is velvety smooth, rich like a fine brandy or a dark chocolate. Looking up, you meet sharp, golden eyes, that seem as if they bore into your very soul. You trace their tired but attractive eyes to fine cheek bones, a strong jawline, burgundy hair with a stark white streak. He seems like your average business man, except no business man you’ve seen looks as good as he does in a three piece suit. It fits him so well you wonder if it’s tailored.

“Ma’am?” He speaks, breaking you out of your daze. You immediately flush red, hands flying to cover your face and promptly dropping your wallet. Your face inflames further as you watch in heavy mortification as he kneels to pick it up. “I am so sorry,”

“No need to apologize miss. I seem to have caught you by surprise.” He purrs, holding out your wallet with an outstretched hand. Your eyes are drawn to the watch on his wrist, noting its simplicity, but the craftsmanship implies that is worth a pretty penny. He must be a very successful businessman. 

“That was my own fault...I was distracted.” You titter nervously, gasping as your fingers brush his own to take your wallet. His touch is electric and you find yourself gazing deep into his eyes again, breath stolen as you meet his calm smile.

“You must be a regular here?” He asks, gently placing the wallet in your hand. 

Once again dragging yourself from your stupor, you clutch your wallet to you, swiping your tongue nervously across your suddenly dry lips. “I-I am. How did you,”

“I saw the clerks here greet you. You must be a familiar face. A beautiful one at that.” The delivery of his compliment is so smooth it takes a minute it to hit you. You feel like a young schoolgirl again before this man, despite him not looking that much older than you. It had been so long since anyone had complimented on your appearance in a way that felt genuine, a long time since your own boyfriend had even--

“Is there anything on the menu you’d suggest?” He asks, gently placing a hand on your back politely to nudge you forward in the queue. His hand is warm through the thick layer of your coat, and you wonder how you’ve not combusted yet with how much attention he’s given you.

“If you like scones, I would suggest those. Their croissants are the perfect amount of buttery and flaky, and I’m personally a fan of their matcha green tea.” The words bumble forth before you can stop yourself, mouth watering at the idea of sinking your teeth into a delicious sandwich. “I’m personally here for lunch…my favorite is the caprese sandwich.” You murmur shyly, noticing he hasn’t taken his hand off your back.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” He grins, flashing you stunning white teeth. You find yourself hopelessly enchanted the more you stay in his presence. “This is my first time at this establishment...I’m glad I didn’t have to go in blind, with you at my side.” He grins, giving you a light nudge forward. You try not to think of his eyes on your back as you order your food, quietly moving to the side and flashing him a small smile as you step away to wait.

“Do you work nearby?” He questions as he walks up to you, tossing his receipt into a nearby bin. 

“I, uh…” You stammer, averting your eyes.

“My apologies, that is a bit invasive isn’t it?” He replies, making an obvious move to turn and move away.

“No, wait!” You reach out for him, fingers just barely brushing his sleeve, to which his golden eyes glance at your fingers just barely brushing the finest material you have ever felt. “What I mean is...I do work nearby.” He seems to regard you silently for a moment, as if mulling over something.

“As do I.” He finally speaks, extending his right hand in an invitation to shake it. “Might I have the pleasure of your name?” 

You place your delicate hand in his, preparing to squeeze his firmly just as your mother taught you, only to blush as he brings it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You give him your name in a daze, forgetting how to breathe as his breath ghosts across your skin. When he finally makes eye contact once more, his gaze is smouldering.

“I go by Emet-Selch. Perhaps, we shall meet again soon.”

You meet him much sooner than you’d like. At first you don’t see him at every visit to the coffee shop; meeting him maybe once or twice. You strike up light conversation when you do, making small talk about your work at the nearby law firm as a secretary, trying your best to sound as impressive as possible because despite his humility, he is obviously loaded. He makes a point to listen to you more than tell you about himself, and you find yourself slowly opening to an easy friendship with him, even if it means losing a few extra dollars of your paycheck to eat lunch after work everyday.

“I’d like to take you out sometime.” 

The statement catches you so off guard you nearly spill your tea all over yourself, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Your heart leaps at the offer, but your brain is too busy assaulting you with so many red flags that it is a sea of crimson in your mind’s eye.

“I’m sorry, I uh...wow,” You stutter, carefully putting down your tea. “I mean I’d love to, but it’s just…” You hoped turning him down wouldn’t mean that this friendship you had worked on would all go to waste.

“I apologize, I had only asked because you weren’t wearing a ring.” He comments smoothly, saving you the breath of having to say it yourself.

“Yes, I do...have a boyfriend.” You murmur sadly, eyes downcast as you stare hard into your cup. It is silent for a few moments, and you fear the worst. “Please don’t,”

“Don’t worry.” When you meet his eyes, he still wears that smug grin, golden eyes twinkling. “Let it just be as friends.” Reaching into his blazer he pulls out a business card. “Simply give me a call when you wish to go out. It’ll be my treat.”

Gingerly, you take the card from him, its material obviously made of fine stock paper. It really made you wonder what made someone as refined as himself continue to eat in a hole in the wall like this. “Thank you, Emet-Selch...I,” He holds up a hand to stop you, an easy smile on his face. 

“Merely call when you are ready, and I will handle the rest.”

You finger the card in your hands as you are curled up on the couch. It smells like his cologne, and you’re ashamed to say you had given it a strong whiff more than once. Its scent is subtle, but somehow overbearing. ‘He smells amazing.’ You muse, glancing at Emet-Selch, Professional Architect shining on the card in elegant lettering.

The door to your shared apartment opens and your boyfriend walks in, already tugging off his blazer and tie. “Honey, you’re home,” you start but he marches on down the hallway, giving a grunt as a form of greeting. Standing to your feet you follow him into your bedroom, watching as he changes out of his suit. “Are you going somewhere?” you ask, watching as he pulls on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looks rugged; not the refined elegance you had come to admire in Emet-Selch.

“Yeah. The boys want to go and play some ball, so I’m heading out.” Done pulling his shirt over his head, he snags some sneakers out of the closet. 

“But it’s movie night…” You whisper, watching as he swings past you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“I know babe, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you!” He calls, giving you a wave as he heads for the door. You stand there completely still as you listen to the door open and close, to the quiet of your apartment.

Walking back to the living room,  you reach for the card you left abandoned on the couch and grab your phone off the coffee table. With watery eyes you punch in the numbers listed on the card and bring your phone to your ear.

“Emet-Selch? Are you free tomorrow?”

He is.

And you have never felt more out of your league.

You’ve styled your hair up, your evenly cut bangs still framing your face but you’ve curled the length of it into a ponytail. You feel slightly self conscious wearing one of your favorite party dresses from your single days, feeling wistful as you unearthed it from the back of your closet. With a little light makeup and your favorite dress coat, you felt ready for a quiet dinner at perhaps a nearby restaurant. 

What you did not expect was Emet-Selch to pull up in a very expensive car. 

He looks no different than he does any other day you see him, though this time his three piece suit is a quiet navy blue. He steps from the car and walks to the other side, taking your hand in his once again to press a kiss to it. “You look stunning.” He breathes, his eyes sparkling like jewels in the moonlight. Ever the gentleman, he opens his car door and lets you step inside, the plush leather seats already warm.

He makes simple conversation that distracts you for a moment as he drives you to your destination, clear across town into very high profile neighborhoods. When you arrive at the restaurant he once again helps you out the car, politely dropping they keys off in the valet’s waiting hands. Offering you his elbow you feel every bit the lady, looping your arm through his with a small smile on your face.

You try not to feel so terribly out of place as you step in, recognizing this as a restaurant where even some of the highest paid businessmen had to have reservations weeks in advance. With gentle hands he leads you to a secluded table, taking your coat and pulling out your chair to sit down in. A sommelier and waiter swoop by almost immediately listing off wines in some foreign language and you sit there dumbfounded as he repeats the wines back with perfect intonation. You vaguely remember being asked what you were in the mood for, somewhat recall mentioning meat, and distantly recollect Emet-Selch ordering lamb for you, the sommelier and waiter take their leave, finally leaving you and Emet-Selch alone.

You’re thankful that Emet-Selch once again takes the lead with the conversation, for you are still too stunned at the luxury he is giving you. The food and wine comes and he’s helpful about proper dining etiquette, sounding not at all patronizing as he tells you which fork is for what use. You’re having a pleasant time and you know its not solely the work of the wine. When the dessert has been eaten and your glass emptied, you find yourself sorely wishing you didn’t have to go home.

Standing, Emet-Selch comes to pull out your chair and help you back into your coat, his cologne wafting into your nose at his closeness. He looks so handsome up close, your eyes following the sharp angle of his jawline as he towers above you. With a hand on the small of your back he nods to the waiter and escorts you out of the establishment where the valet is already waiting with his car.

“I hope you’ve had a wonderful evening, my dear.” He purrs, taking his keys from the valet and handing him a hefty tip in return. He gently helps you back into his car, his stride elegant as he circles the vehicle to get in on the driver’s side. 

“I’ve...had a wonderful time Emet.” You whisper, staring into his glittering gold eyes. “I wish the night didn’t have to end so soon.” The words are out before you can take them back, his eyes twins flames as a result. You are no fool and can see the pure desire there. 

“It doesn’t have to.” With that one statement he puts the ball in your court, the weight of your choice the remaining barrier between you. “I do not wish to overwhelm you; I meant what I said by offering to take you out as mere companions. However, if you wish to go home,”

“I would like to spend more time with you.” You blurt out, unsure if he’s trying to talk himself out of it, or talk you into it. “What I mean is...I would like to know more about you.” He gives you a confident smile, leans back into the driver’s seat as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb.

You shouldn’t have gotten in his car. You shouldn’t have offered yourself, knowing full well how these things go.

You should’ve asked him to take you home, to tell him it was a nice dinner and let’s never do this again.

You did none of those things.

Instead, you allowed him to drive to his penthouse apartment, to park his car in a sectioned garage of several more that were surely his own. Allowed him to lead you into his home, and realize just what kind of man you were dealing with. You allowed him to show you around his home, to stare at you so hungrily that you should have been offended. 

“Are you nervous?” He asks, his eyes half lidded. He is not ashamed of his appraisal of your body, of admiring your curves so poorly hidden beneath your dress. You stand in his opulent dining room, you wonder if it’s seen any use. “You seem...on edge.”

You meet his eyes, your breath loud in the silence of his home. “I am...I shouldn’t be here.” Your voice is quiet and you very much feel like a mouse caught before the eyes of a hawk, its golden eyes piercing through to you, knowing it is ready to strike.

“Is that so?” He chuckles. “Tell me, why is that?” He questions, pacing around the dinner table like a lion who has cornered its prey.

“I...I’m not a fool. Y-You want me.” You hiss, trying to find it in yourself to be angry. You glare angrily at the floor, finding the only person you can be furious at, is yourself.

“So I do. Though it would seem by your presence here, the feeling is mutual.” Your eyes snap up to meet his, finding him suddenly closer than he was at first. His scent wafts into your nose, the warmth of him just barely tickling your senses. “I meant what I said. That we could go out like friends…” He steps closer and you gasp as you back into the table, your heels slipping on the tiled floor but with quick reflexes he steadies you with a hand at your waist. “You could come home with me like friends…” He continues, pressing further against you. You’re getting lightheaded as you eyes dart from his eyes to his lips, looking soft and oh so kissable. A strong hand comes to tilt your chin up to face him, giving you nowhere to look but him.

“And we could even sleep together, as friends do.” His thumb gently rubs your bottom lip, and without any prompting you take it into your mouth, wrapping your tongue around the digit. Your eyes flutter closed, unwilling to face your own depravity. Your guilt must be palpable, for his next words send shivers down your spine. “I know that you are a good girl.” He whispers, bringing you close against him where you can feel his arousal. “Perhaps, you can be a good girl for me.” 

Your eyes slowly open as he pulls his thumb from your mouth, finding him hovering before your face before his lips press to yours. He is not at all patient in demanding entrance into your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip to open your mouth for him, kissing you passionately as he presses himself further into you. His hands trail down your sides to the hem of your dress where it stops mid thigh, fingers tickling, teasing as they grip tightly and hike your dress up. With surprising strength he lifts you onto the table, paying no mind to the cutlery or centerpieces as they tumble and crash to the floor.

He is aggressive as he spreads your legs for him, settling himself between them as his hands push your dress past your thighs to settle at your hips. You feel him pull back as he encounters the lacy material of your underwear, your face tinting red as he tugs it with a finger and releases it to snap against your skin. “Wearing such lacy things like this, I have to wonder if you came here with intentions.” Emet-Selch purrs, tracing the fine material to your front, teasing the skin of your inner thigh.

You refuse to say anything, choosing instead to watch his hand with bated breath as he slowly drags his fingers higher to press at the junction of your thighs, drifting across your obvious arousal for him. “Look at you...so wet. So eager.” He murmurs like a caress, only lightly dragging his fingers across your slit. 

“D-Don’t tease me…” you whine, trying to press your hips forward onto his hand. Your fingers grip tightly onto the fine material of his blazer, distantly worrying if it’s all right you wrinkle such a fine suit, but he seems to not mind for how insistently he is touching you. 

“I would never.” He breathes, reaching to lock your lips with his own. His kiss is intoxicating, your arms moving to link around his neck and bring him close against you, his chest brushing against your own. Soon enough does he slide your panties to the side, fingers finally brushing to part your lower lips to find the pink bud lurking beneath. You moan into his mouth when he finds it, legs wrapping around his hips instinctively as you use him to anchor you through the pleasure that courses through your body.

“Someone is sensitive, I see.” He croons, giving another delicate stroke of your clit that makes you moan with abandon into his shoulder, body shaking as you try to clutch him tighter. Was it supposed to feel this good? “Or perhaps, you have not truly been taken care of.” He muses, your heart stopping as he hits the mark. You meet his half lidded eyes, see the smugness lingering on the surface with the lust and desire. “H-How did you,”

“An educated guess.” He replies, giving another fervent press to your clit and you whimper, ashamed of how your hips try to leap into his touch, his fingers stroking and rubbing until he finds what you like, finds what as you moaning like wanton in his hands. Your head is in the clouds, slowly losing touch with reality as he drives your pleasure higher and higher. “If we are going to do this love, I prefer you call me by my name.” Come his words through the haze of lust, sounding as if he is lightyears away. 

“Emet-Selch isn’t your name?” You ask between pants, meeting those golden pools he calls eyes. Your lips are surely plump from his kisses and bites, the skirt of your dress hiked up around your hips and your sure his free hand is moving to push the straps from your shoulders to expose more of you to him. 

“It is more a title, strange as that sounds, I’m sure. My name is Hades.” His voice is low and seductive, and you find that his name suits him. 

“Why tell me this now?” You ask, whimpering as he pushes your panties even further to the side, eyes widening as he slowly kneels on the floor. A hand grips your hip and pulls you toward him to the edge of the table, his eyes devious as he looks up at you from his place below. 

“Because, my love, it is only polite to cry out the name of the one who pleases you.” 

You can’t formulate a reply fast enough as his lips press to  your clit, your hands practically flying to to bury themselves in his hair, his own hands keeping your thighs apart as they instinctively try to clench together. Your boyfriend had never given you oral, or rather good oral, and in just mere moments had Emet-Selch, Hades, out classed him entirely. His tongue swirled around your center, reaching inside you, and surely enough did you cry out his name in abandon as the fire in your belly blaze out of control.

Your cries are loud as they echo off the spacious walls of his apartment alongside the lewd sounds him lapping up your juices. Each press of his tongue to your clit pushes the guilt and doubt further away in your mind, focusing only on the mind-blowing pleasure the man currently between your legs has to offer you. Your hands fist in his hair careful not to tug too hard, your body hardly able to deal with how good you feel. Such pleasure shouldn’t be possible, but Hades seems determined to prove you wrong.

With mischievous eyes does he slip a finger inside your opening, pulling a long moan from you, your eyes shut tight as your pleasure spikes. He picks an easy pace as he thrusts his finger in your tight hole, ignoring your pleas to stop as you try to pull away from him. It’s so much, too much, you feel ready to burst but he won’t let you run, going as far as slipping a second finger inside, spreading you open for him. “I-I can’t,” you whimper. Clearly to Emet-Selch it does not matter, for he gives a hard suck on your pink bud and curls his fingers just so that has you falling apart on him, coming with an orgasm so intense you had never even thought it possible.

Your breath is stolen from you as you ride your high, his tongue giving a final few flicks as the waves of bliss finally see fit to release you, your body flushed with sweat. You release his hair as he moves to stand, slowly kissing up your body as he slowly peels your dress off of you, baring your creamy skin before his gaze. Tossing your dress aside, he moves to finally divest himself of his blazer, dropping it to the floor carelessly as his hands move to undo his cuff links, gently placing them on the table. You watch enraptured as he undresses, unashamed at how you stare at his pale, muscled skin as it reveals itself to you. He is by no means bulky, but neither is he lanky by how he lifted you with ease earlier. Your hands reach for him on their own, bringing him in for a kiss which seems to surprise him, but he quickly returns it, his hands fumbling with his belt in a sudden rush to get his pants off. Your hands reach behind your back to undo your bra, tossing it to the side all while continuing the kiss, moaning into his mouth as his hands move to cup your breasts in his hands.

The kiss grows feverish, as if the two of you cannot touch enough of each other, or quickly enough. Patience seems to fly out the window, neither of you worried about getting him out of his slacks, shoving them down far enough to free his length so that you may stroke it gently in your hands as his lips trail down your jawline to nip and bite at your neck, unsatisfied until the only sounds from your lips are his name or your cries of pleasure. His own grunts and moans from your attention on his cock send heat pooling into your legs once again, making you distantly wonder if your slick is staining his lovely dining room table. He gives you no time to ponder it though, pushing your hands off him to rub himself along your folds, letting your fluids cover his length instead, teasing you with the heat of his cock.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t tease,” you beg, trying to arch your hips to take him inside. You need him so badly, you worry you might fall apart if he doesn’t touch you or even if he did. A single hand comes to cradle your face gently, bidding you to look into his eyes. There is an adoration mixed within the lust, stealing your breath away just as he presses the head past your lips, slowly sliding himself into your wet sheathe. “My love, whoever could deny you?”

You feel so incredibly full, joined with him so intimately. He lets you adjust to his girth, chuckling when you wiggle your hips impatiently. “You feel amazing, my dear.” He praises, moving to stroke your hair as he pulls out to the tip, slowly plunging back inside. He repeats the slow pace, letting you feel the length of him as he drives himself inside you, his attention never leaving your face. The way he looks at you makes you feel as if you are the most beautiful thing he has laid eyes on, despite the opulence he had surrounded himself with. His thumb slides past your lips once more and you suck on it eagerly, or rather to the best of your ability as he finally picks a pace.

If he is bothered by your inability to continue your attentions on his thumb he doesn’t show it, clearly more pleased with his name falling from your lips with each thrust as he fills every crevice your body has to offer. His thrusts increase in pace, the sound of skin against skin becoming the only thing you can hear past your own moan and his quiet breaths. Taking a look at him you wonder what you must look like; the very picture of debauchery you were sure. You prayed that this wouldn’t be a small fling, unsure if you could ever go through life knowing just how good you could feel.

“Stay with me.”

You’re suddenly alert at those words, his hips not stopping their thrusting as he stares you down. His face is a bit more serious now, but still maintains that confident, superior air, as if he knows you won’t turn down whatever request he is about to make.

As if you will bow to his every whim.

“I can’t,” you whimper, whining as he slows down his thrusts.

“You want this. Want me. Why deny yourself?” He presses on, giving a single, hard thrust, pressing you down to lay you flat on the table, more cutlery crashing to the floor. “You don’t have to leave your boyfriend if that is what you fear.” His voice is hypnotic, somehow adding to the pleasure itself as he begins to fuck you. “Just know that I will see to your every need. Your every desire.” He rasps, a groan torn from his lips as his hands snap  to your hips to bring you down harder on his cock. Each stroke threatens to tear at your sanity, what little of it you feel you have left his hand reaches between your leg to rub on your clit and force an unexpected orgasm from you, your body clutching him tightly and shuddering around him but he doesn’t stop, only continues to thrust into your wet heat to the point of overstimulation.

“Hades…” you whine, breath coming fast as he lets you pull him close, chest to chest as your hands tangle themselves in his hair. His hips fuck at a brutal pace, fully giving over to his own pleasure and you fight to keep your focus on him, wanting to watch this beautiful, composed man fall apart inside you. You clutch his face between your hands, his eyes glazed over with desire as you sense he is nearing his end. “Come inside me.” You whisper, and it’s those very words that push him over the edge, Emet-Selch groaning your name softly as he releases deep inside you. His body shudders above your own as he holds you tight as his orgasm takes him under, his lips smashing into yours in a fierce kiss as you feel his cum reach deep inside. You whimper into his mouth as one of his hands finds your clit, rubbing insistently until you must part from the kiss to make room for his name as he brings you to orgasm once again.

The two of you catch your breath, chest’s heaving as you lie in the afterglow. His hands gently caress your body, running across your skin, feeling its softness, his lips pressing kisses as light as a butterfly’s wingbeats. Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him, sighing in contentment.

“Babe?”

Your eyes flutter open, finding the confused face of your boyfriend staring back at you. You turn to him slightly, letting him know you’re listening. 

“You going out?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe to your bathroom. Reaching for your lipstick, you apply it with grace, placing the tube back on the counter. “I am.” You answer simply, moving past him to head for your closet. Grabbing your heels, you move to sit on the bed to put them on. 

“Where to?” He asks, moving to stand nearby. Your hair is once again up in a ponytail, though it need not be. It’s just going to come down anyway.

Hades does love unwrapping his gifts.

“Company dinner.” You lie, pushing away his hand as you finally get your last heel on, grabbing your clutch off the bed. Pulling out your phone you check your messages, practically beaming at your phone. “I know you said you were heading out yourself. I’ve got a ride, so don’t worry about me.” Giving him a peck on the cheek, you give him a quick smile before strolling down the hallway, giggling at his dumbfounded look. “Catch you later!”

Stepping outside, you hurry down the stairs as best you can, making a mad dash for the luxury car outside. “I thought I asked you to not pick me up!” You hiss, quickly opening the passenger door and slipping inside. 

“But where’s the fun in that, my love?” Emet-Selch whispers, breath husky as he brings you to him for a kiss. “I would not be opposed from skipping dinner and going straight to dessert.” He teases and you shudder, looking at hunger in his eyes. Giving one last bite to your bottom lip he parts from you, putting the car in gear to slowly pull out from the parking lot. You give one look back at your apartment, before your attention is stolen by Emet-Selch who twines his fingers with yours.

Tumblr|Twitter|Commissions

[chierafied]

Prompt: "Humans will pack bond with anything." I had wanted to give an ichiruki prompt, but this fits jily better. Good luck and thanks in advance!

This fic is like a year late but hey, I got it done in the end.

For the longest time I was drawing a total blank on the prompt but then my campus library made a post last summer on their instagram about their robot vacuum. And well, it all started to come together from there. :D

Hope you enjoy the fluff!

Life Outside of the Library

James Potter wasn’t typically the type to frequent a library. 

Sure, his mother had taken him to one sometimes when he’d been a kid. He had good memories from libraries and liked them in general. In James’ opinion, they were an important service to have and it was nice they existed. 

But sitting in a library wasn’t his preferred way to spend his spare time – not when there were football practices to go to, friends to see, video games to conquer and endless Youtube videos to laugh at.

And even if he did enjoy reading the occasional book, he didn’t feel a need to surround himself with them.

Now, though, in his twenties, James Potter had become a regular at his university’s library and had gained a whole new appreciation for them.

He loved his friends, and had a blast living with them – but sharing a flat with three other blokes did not offer the kind of environment to be productive in. And productive was what he desperately needed to be, now that he was working on his thesis.

Though to be fair, even had he lived alone, James still likely would’ve got more work done at the library: his home offered too many comforts and distractions for him to resist.

Besides, whenever he hit a snag with his writing or had trouble finding a good source to cite, he could go and ask one of the librarians for help. 

Like miracle workers, they tracked down the information he’d need or located a whole bunch of great sources for him.

He wasn’t quite sure how they did it, but he silently suspected that some sort of magic was involved.

James visited the library at least three times a week. Some days he only stayed close to an hour in the morning. On some rarer occasions, he came in as the doors opened and stayed in until closing.

Of course, James being James, he was also on a first-name basis with everyone working at the library.

Including the robot vacuum that silently whirred about the floors in the mornings, doing its thing. James called it Robert.

He swung in early one Monday morning, refreshed after the weekend and ready to get some more progress made on his thesis. 

He didn’t head straight for his usual spot in the quiet back corner but stopped at the information desk.

The librarian on duty smiled fondly at him.

“Here again, eh?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Nora,” he replied, grinning. “How was your weekend? Does Thomas still have the flu?”

“The weekend went as well as could be expected,” Nora said. “Thomas is on the mend but he hasn’t gone back to school yet. He’s passed it off to his father though, so now I have another baby to nurse to health.”

James laughed. “Take care of yourself, too, and don’t get sick!”

“Thanks. Good luck with your thesis!”

James nodded his thanks and started toward his preferred spot.

In between the shelves, he came across Robert the robot vacuum, whirring about and keeping the carpets clean.

“Hullo, Robbie, mate,” James told it as he walked past.

He settled at his table and logged on to the desktop computer set there. Some students carried their laptops around, but James preferred not using his own laptop for the same reason he’d come to the library in the first place: to keep all distractions to a minimum.

It was working, though, since he had made a surprising amount of progress on his thesis.

Six weeks ago, he’d barely had an inkling of an idea. Now, he already had almost 15 pages written and his online survey was up and receiving responses. 

Today, he settled on refreshing his memory of the theory of his chosen research method. The theoretical and academic textbook wasn’t the most immersive book he’d ever read, but he lost the track of time nonetheless, scribbling down a couple of notes for himself on a scrap paper.

When his stomach started grumbling a few hours later, James typed up his notes, packed his things and left the library.

——————-

A week or two later, on a foggy Tuesday morning, James walked into the library. He hadn’t been at the library for over a week, as he’d gone home to visit his parents for the autumn break. 

He headed straight to the shelf holding reserved materials to pick up the books he’d requested.

He greeted the librarian – Susan – as he passed the information desk and started towards his back corner. 

Only something seemed off.

The library was oddly still.

He was nearly at his table when he realised what was different this morning – he hadn’t seen Robert anywhere.

He dropped his books on his regular table, then followed the soft thumps of books being handled. It was coming from the shelf over the next, where he found a young woman standing by a book cart and shelving books.

James didn’t recognise her, but she had a name tag pinned on and was obviously working, so she had to be staff.

Before James could speak up, she noticed him. She turned to him and met his eyes, flashing him a quick smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Uhhh,” James offered lamely because his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat and his brain had momentarily stalled. He’d forgotten why he’d sought her out in the first place. 

Then, it all came back to him in a rush. “Yeah. What’s up with Robbie?”

The librarian blinked.

“I’m sorry, who’s Robbie?”

“Robert. The robot vacuum,” James explained, feeling like a complete pillock.

Her green eyes sparked and the corner of her lips twitched suspiciously, but thankfully she didn’t laugh at him.  

“Ohh, sorry. I didn’t know the robot vacuum had a name,” she replied. “It’s out of commission for the time being, seems like there was some sort of a malfunction with the loading dock over the weekend but it’s being looked into.”

“Okay. Thanks. I was just wondering since I’m so used to seeing it around in the mornings.”

“You’re a regular, then?” she asked.

“Yeah, working on my thesis,” James said.

“All the best with that,” she said.

“Thanks. Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” James said, nodding at the book cart. “See you around.”

“Bye,” she replied, then returned to shelving.

James walked back to his table, his heart pounding in his chest and his face glowing with flustered warmth. 

He’d definitely made such a lame first impression with the new, fit librarian… but on the bright side, the only way from here was up.

——————-

The new, fit librarian’s name was Lily, and she wasn’t actually a librarian. Like James, she was a student at the university and in her final year. She was majoring in library and information science and was doing an internship at the campus library. 

They’d been chatting on and off whenever she managed to be on a shift when James showed up at the library.

Just little things; the kind of usual small-talk he had with any of the librarians working there. 

Except when he was chatting with Lily, his heart was always racing in his chest, and no matter how mundane the conversation he’d treasure every word and go over their discussions later in his mind, replaying them over and over again.

That certainly never happened with any of the other librarians.

Simply put, James was absolutely smitten.

He’d been a goner since the first time they’d met; when she’d stolen his breath with her bright smile. 

Even Peter had made an off-hand comment on how cheerful James seemed coming home from the library. 

Despite his feelings, however, James wasn’t sure yet if he should pursue Lily or not. 

He didn’t know if she was at all interested in him or if she was simply being friendly. He hadn’t really tried flirting with her, either. 

Because as much as he treasured each interaction with her and even though they were both students at the university and therefore on an equal ground… James was painfully aware that during every chat they had at the library, she was a member of the staff. 

Not only was she working, but for her being friendly towards the patrons was part of the job description.

That’s why James felt he was on shaky ground and wasn’t sure how he might broach the topic of meeting Lily outside the library – or if, indeed, he should broach the topic at all.

Feeling torn and conflicted, he stepped into a coffee shop near the campus, accompanied by the chime of the bell at the door.

He joined the queue and had dug out his phone to check on his notifications when a flash of familiar dark red in the periphery of his vision caught his attention. 

Lily was preoccupying his thoughts so thoroughly that, at first, James believed his brain had conjured her up and that he was so far gone that everything now reminded him of her.

But even as he stared, the sight didn’t waver or change. Instead, Lily turned, drink in hand, and noticed him.

The surprise in her eyes mirrored his own and she offered him a hesitant wave. 

James couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips. He waved back. His gaze followed her as she made her way to a table by the window.

Impatient, James queued up to the counter and made his order. 

As soon as he’d got his coffee, he made a beeline to Lily’s table. 

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless while a smile that was sure to be goofy tugged at his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” she replied, flashing him a smile in return as she indicated at the empty seat across the table.

A bounce in his step, James circled the table, set his drink down and claimed the seat. 

Their gazes met, and the corner of Lily’s lips twitched upwards. 

“So…” James drawled, “looks like there’s life outside of the library.”

“Maybe,” Lily replied, “though given how much time you spend there the comment applies to you too.”

“That’s fair,” James said.

His fingers drummed against his coffee mug. 

While he was glad that she’d responded to his teasing comment in kind, just sitting across from her, here and now, had agitation thrumming through his body.

If he wanted to act on his infatuation, he couldn’t have been served a better chance than this. 

“Oh, Robert the robot vacuum has made full recovery,” Lily said.

“Really? That’s great. Will be good to see the little guy around again.” James ruffled his hair to stop himself from fidgeting. “Does that sound too weird?”

“Nah.” Lily shrugged. “Having seen Robbie for myself now I can understand the appeal. And at the end of the day, it isn’t any weirder than me talking to my cat.”

“Well, cheers, that makes me feel a little better,” James said, flashing her a smile. “I was sure I had made a terrible first impression as this huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner.”

“You definitely did come off as a huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner,” Lily agreed. “Doesn’t mean it was a terrible first impression though. It was kind of sweet, actually.”

James perked up. Faint and frail wings of hope fluttered in his chest. 

He sipped his coffee, gathering his nerve.

Then, he took the plunge.

“You know it’s funny we ran into each other here, like this.” He met her eyes, managed a small crooked grin. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d want to grab a coffee with me for a while now.”

Lily’s eyebrow arched, and the look in her eyes turned appraising.

“Really? What’s been stopping you?”

“Well,” James started, cheeks flushing, “I wasn’t sure it was all proper, what with you being staff and me being a patron. I’ve heard too many horror stories about customers’ unsolicited attempts at flirting or mistaking friendliness as a sign of interest and I really didn’t want to be like one of those arses.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Lily’s lips. “The fact that you’re aware that people like that are arses proves you’ve no need to worry about being one,” she told him. “Where have you heard all these horror stories, anyway?”

“My cousin Dorcas. She works at a pub so she sees all kinds.”

“I bet.” Lily took a good long sip of her drink, then leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand. “You know, that’s not really something we need to worry about at the library. Our patrons don’t really flirt with us.”

“I don’t know,” James said, his tone teasing. “I’ve seen how that blond girl with the purple backpack looks at you.”

Lily laughed.

“She’s cute enough,” Lily admitted. “But I think I prefer a different type.”

There was a gleam in her eye that had James'  throat growing dry and the pit of his stomach trembling. 

“What’s your preferred type?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Lily looked at him, keeping him at the edge of his seat while she brought her mug to her lips and sipped.

“The sweet and dorky type that names a vacuum cleaner and worries so much about being an arse that they won’t even ask you out,” she replied at last, smiling.

“Well then,” James said, unable to keep the blinding bright smile from his face. “I happen to know someone who fits that description.”

“Maybe you could introduce him to me,” Lily said, grinning.

“I suppose I should,” James agreed.

He reached across the table and offered Lily his hand.

Playing along, she took it and gave it a warm, firm shake.

“Hi, I’m James Potter and I fancy you a lot.”

“Nice to meet you, James,” she replied, voice trembling from barely contained laughter. “I’m Lily Evans and I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me sometime.”

“I’d love to,” James answered, still holding her hand in his as their gazes locked.

Her green eyes were alight with laughter and more beautiful than James had ever seen. Her palm was soft and warm against his. Her smile was wide and a little smug and it still completely stole his breath.

James’ heart soared and even though he still barely knew her, even though the two of them were only in the very beginning of their journey together, he was suddenly certain of one thing: this was the woman he’d marry.

[wangtaeil]

wow. hello everyone! i cant believe i really get to say this, but i just hit 3,500 followers. w o w. i've been making ateez gifs for exactly 3 months now and in those 3 short months i have gained over 500 followers, bringing me to an amount i am totally undeserving of. i honestly have no idea how this happened but i am so grateful for each and every one of you i didnt know what i should do to celebrate this amazing milestone. i considered opening requests for gifs or moodboards, maybe even start taking requests for the amazing writing skills i've developed recently. that might still happen (and would probably be for mutuals only i'm afraid) but for now i want to just give a shout out to my amazing mutuals who make being here worth it. its gonna get loooong so its under the cut thank you all so much for this, i love you all

here we gooo....

@cryiingemoji if i said everything i want to say to you here, it would take up this entire post. luckily you already know it all because its been 700 years lol. speak to you soon, ily 💚

@sooncheolie i’ve said it a thousand times in the what, 3 years we’ve been friends? but you are one of my closest friends on here, and i’d like to think that if we knew each other in the real world we would be basically best friends. you’re amazing and i’m so glad we stumbled into each other’s lives back when we were just imhobi and jinjackson. you got me into seventeen and taught me all their names, now i just have to get you into ateez... ily 💚

@mauloveskpop miss mau, anyone that is lucky enough to call you a friend is truly blessed. we’ve known each other for years and i’ve loved every damn second of it. you’re amazing and so hard working, a real treasure. i’ve discovered a lot of groups through you and learned how to gif by watching you grow, ily 💚

@1oonar my daughter... you’ve been gone for over a month now but i still think about you every day. i hope you are well and i will be here waiting when you get back, ily 💚

@whiteconfession laura, honestly, i’d be lost without you. you’re an absolute riot to talk to, every time i see your name come up in my dm’s i know i’m about to lol in real life. i’m so proud of you for all your achievements, not that i ever had any doubts. and its not that long until sungyeol returns woo! ily 💚

@visualsan i dont know that i’d be writing all of this right now if it wasnt for you and your sister, i think its all down to you two that the amount of atinys that follow me are following me. i remember being really scared to talk to you at first because i’d admired your blog for a while and i actually freaked out a little when you followed me. i’m so glad we became friends, you’re so wonderful, ily 💚

@smol-joong like i said to bea, i wouldnt be able to write a 3.5k follower post if it hadnt been for you. you told people to follow me and then everything just blew up. you did that for me, i cannot thank you enough. you’re very special to me and i’d take a bullet for you (or take a buffet for you as my sister would say...). ily 💚

@prettyseonghwa wow, where do i start with you miss yasmin? you are an actual angel. i dont know what i did to deserve you but i’m so thankful for you. you’ve been there to talk me through some rough times and you handle everything with such maturity. you’re so thoughtful and caring, even when you’re struggling yourself. i wish i could do for you what you have done for me. ily 💚

@softmingis wonderful miss luna. you were one of the people i was most intimidated by when i first became part of atinyblr. no matter what you say, to me you are a big account and i was scared to approach you. but look at us now! you’re one of my favourite people here and i love talking to you. i’m so happy you came back, ily 💚

@doorootu res, i’m so happy to have met you. your finals are almost over and i’m so proud of you! soon you will be all over my dash again and i cannot wait! ily 💚

@omg-gyu i’ve missed you while you’ve been away taking your exams, i hope everything is going well for you. i was honoured to be the one you asked for advice when getting into ateez, i hope you’ve been enjoying this comeback, ily 💚

@honeyboysan jules, i admire you so much. your love of all things nature is so pure and wholesome and its a joy to see. you’re so thoughtful towards other people’s feelings and weird phobias. allowing myself and your followers to share your nb journey is inspiring, i wish you nothing but happiness, ily 💚

@cherryjoong honestly maggie, you’re some kind of chaotic good, you’re the human embodiment of your ateez crack moodboards, so much fun and i love interacting with you. also you and jules are so EFFIN cute i cannot handle it. ily 💚

@moonctzen you’re so much fun and you’re taeil biased so that automatically means you’re awesome. i know we dont interact that much but i thoroughly enjoy seeing you on my dash. ily 💚

@moonitaeil we dont interact much but your posts on my dash brighten my day. i’m glad we share a love of taeil, ily 💚

@127-mile emilie, you’re a very talented writer and you bring so much joy to so many people with your au’s. i hope you continue to write and grow for many many years, ily 💚

@softforyunho it says it right there in your url, you are the softest. so lovable and seeing you share your love for yunho is heartwarming. ily 💚

@jaehyunay you are hilarious, i love talking to you and seeing all of your lovely wallpapers that you make. keep up the good work! ily 💚

@meinyunho natali you’re so lovely. watching your adventures in gif making has been a pleasure. you’re doing so well and i hope you continue. you’re doing so well, i’m proud of you, ily 💚

@honeyjoongie elli, you’ve been gone for so long but its like you’re still here because of the amazing queue you set up. its so thoughtful and you’ve really made everyone so happy with the posts you’ve tagged them in. you even remembered who my stray kids bias is, you’re so powerful and you dont even realise it. everyone is so excited for you to come back, including me. i hope your exams went well, ily 💚

@missminji miss harleigh. you are another person i was quite intimidated by when i first got into the fandom, but looking back i have no idea why. you’re wonderful and totally deserve to see your bias yuto when you go to see pentagon. ily 💚

@wooyuong inna inna inna... you are the one i was the most intimidated by. literally everyone i know already knew you, even people not in atinyblr knew you and i once posted that i wanted to be friends with you and then immediately deleted the post because i was scared you’d see it. but it turns out you’re not scary, you’re infact very cute and adorable and lovable and i might adopt you. ily 💚

@choisansbitch we dont know each other very well, but maybe that will change one day. you are chaotic, but sometimes we all need a little chaos in our lives. you’re fun, i like it. ily 💚

@dearmingi you are someone i would like to get to know better because i dont think we know each other too well just yet. that being said, i do love seeing you on my dash. lets talk more, ily 💚

@sonqmingi definitely was intimidated by you at first and tbh still am a little and i dont know why. you’re awesome though and i’d love to get to know you more, ily 💚

@soulofatiny an angel in disguise. you are so wonderful and kind and caring and i wish there were more people like you in the world. it would be a much kinder place is there were. ily 💚

@woovoung​ another little bit of much needed chaos on my dash. we dont really know each other that well, but you’re definitely fun. ily 💚

@multidino​ sometimes i feel like i can actually hear your posts. you’re always there and always first to interact when i say i’m bored for which i’m always grateful. ily 💚

@jonghostation​ i was a little intimidated by you at first because even before i followed you you were always all over my dash interacting with everyone. i hope we can become friends, ily 💚

@celestial-yunho​ the last of the people i was most intimidated by. you have such a big presence within the fandom that i didnt think you’d even notice if i followed you. i’d love to get to know you more! ily 💚

@kqyvnho​ we’ve been mutuals for 2 whole days but i didnt want to leave you out! i hope we can become friends! ily 💚

so there we go! thank you all so much for everything 💚💚💚

[gasterghostadventures]

back for a bit!! just a couple things

(just a note, this post was queued friday night, haha)

i’m back for a bit now--what a crazy week its been, haha. (TL;DR at the bottom!)

just now responding and seeing a lot of these replies, and wow, this blog has grown a lot just in the couple days i’ve been gone!  i appreciate all the replies and comments on all the posts--i love hearing other people’s perspectives on this au, since i’m so used to just enjoying it myself.  i’m glad so many other people love it as well!!

that said, i was thinking about this a little bit, and i think from now on i’ll put links at the bottom of every post with actual content; one to zarla’s blog, one to the handplates index, and one to the post where ukagaster can be downloaded!  this blog started without me expecting any followers at all but seems to be gaining traction sorta quickly, and i wanna make sure everyone can locate and enjoy the content she creates!  this blog wouldn’t exist without it, after all ^^.

i’ll also be spreading out content just a liiiiittle bit more evenly--don’t wanna overwhelm anybody or any tags or anything!  i’ll try to keep the queue up to get a new post out every day maybe two new posts.

as i mentioned before, i’ve been loving the replies--it’s really fun to see other people’s perspective on things!  feel free to reply to anything if you have something to say about a post--other people’s input is really interesting to me, so you’ll never be bothering me or anything |D.  i’ll probably be replying to comments on the posts not too often throughout the week--mainly on the weekends.  but if i don’t respond right away, it probably just means i’m busy ( or i didn’t see it or something :/ )

also wanna remind everyone that the ask box is open as well, so feel free to request anything you’d like to see from the ghost, or just to stop by and say hi!  I likely won’t be able to get to requests right away, but i’ll keep them in mind and post something related to them sometime relatively soon if i can!  Just as a side note, I have anonymous asks turned on if that makes you more comfortable (comin’ from a fellow member of the Anxiety Gang(tm)!!)

TL;DR

I’ll be adding links to every post from now on to Zarla’s blog, the Handplates index, and to the post where you can get the ghost for yourself!

Content will be spread out more evenly--not necessarily less frequent, just more consistent! Goal is 1 post a day, maybe 2.

Feel free to reply to any posts/make any comments you want!!  If you reply on a post, I’ll almost definitely reply back, it just may take a few days depending on my schedule, haha.

The ask box is open, and anonymous asks are turned on! feel free to request something to see from the ghost, or just say hi!

Make sure you check out Zarla’s work if by some small chance you haven’t yet!  And if you aren’t following her yet, please do so!  Not that I’m biased or anything (^^), but all her work is all really quite amazing, haha.

Anyways, that’s all for now.  See you all later!! 

[edsbrak]

a thousand times (in your arms)

pairing: Steddie word count: 4k summary: “It’s been stressing him out a bit, and I know he feels bad about not being home as often,” Eddie continues, not sure why he’s even saying any of this. But he knows Richie wouldn’t offer any pity, just a willing ear to listen. “I just wish he wouldn't worry so much.”

“Show him that, then,” Richie says, and Eddie looks at him, not expecting to receive any kind of advice in return.

Or, Stan has been working longer shifts and Eddie just wants to be a supportive husband.

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(hey everyone! I’ve finally finished this fic, thank god, so now I can share this adorably sweet pairing with y’all! sorry in advance for mistakes, I’ll be back to correct them (hopefully) so for now, enjoy!) xx

Eddie shifts around a bit until he’s comfortable against the frame of the door, peering down at the lecture taking place with a small smile.

The class itself was a rather large one, at least twice as big as his own. It was an impressive feat, keeping the attention of all of these students sitting straight in their uncomfortable wooden seats, pens scribbling and fingers typing away.

Even after years of working together and watching each other teach hundreds of times, it still manages to light a fire of pride in Eddie’s chest as he looks down at his husband – the professor of this particular course – as he runs through the principles of financial accounting. Never before had Eddie thought anyone could keep him focused and interested in a topic like this, but as he watches Stan move about at the bottom of the room, poised movements and calculated speech, Eddie is sure he wouldn’t mind listening to this for the rest of his life.

There was only 10 minutes left until this class would be dismissed, so Eddie had decided to wait for Stan by his classroom before heading out to lunch together, all the while enjoying the view for all it has to offer. And Stan, never wanting to drag things out, recited the studies to be completed by next lesson before ending the class at exactly 12 on the dot. 

Students begin piling out of the room so Eddie steps out of the frame of the door, checking his emails on his phone in the hallway until it was safe to try and step back inside. Two girls walk past him before he can, and it’s hard to ignore the tail end of their conversation.

“God, I know Professor Uris is married, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy staring at him for the entire hour,” one gushes as she turns to her friend.

“That’s a fucking mood,” the other one agrees and lets out a dramatic groan.

Eddie watches them go and can’t do anything else but laugh under his breath. He descends the steps of the classroom before finally reaching the bottom, watching as Stan begins to shut down the power-point presentation he had set up minutes before.

“Hey handsome,” Eddie greets, unable to help himself.

Stan’s head snaps up and then a gentle smile appears, but he doesn’t leave the laptop yet until he’s done. “Were you spying on me again?”

The tone is playfully teasing, Eddie can tell. So he turns around and takes a seat at the front, hands clasped in front of him as he stares ahead. “Can you blame me? I think you’d be voted the ‘Hottest Professor’ on this campus if a poll ever takes place.”

Stan gives him a funny look as he finally closes the laptop with a ‘click’. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eddie says, dusting away some loose crumbs on the desk. “I just overheard some of your fans in the hallway.”

Stan raises an eyebrow that’s mostly obscured by the frame of his glasses. Eddie swears he’s never seen glasses look sexier on anyone. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well believe it, gorgeous,” Eddie smiles up at him and bats his eyelashes. “Now, dazzle me with your accounting charm. Woo me, oh great lecturer.”

“Didn’t you want to walk over to that Vietnamese place for lunch? The queue piles up quickly there. We should hurry.”

“You take the fun out of everything,” Eddie says with a pout.

Stan stares at him for a moment before walking over and leaning down so they’re now eye level. Eddie performs a kissing motion. Stan shakes his head slowly, gaze now hooded.

“You know what happens to students who don’t behave?” Stan asks, moving in until his lips are by Eddie’s ear. “They get punished.”

A pleasant shiver runs down his neck and along Eddie’s arms, and before he can retaliate, Stan is moving away and over to collect his messenger bag.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Eddie takes a few seconds to calm down the heat coursing through him before following after his husband, muttering “Tease,” under his breath.

*

“Man, if there was ever a ‘Hottest Professor’ vote taken on campus, I’d totally bag the crown,” Richie says the next day while he’s waiting for his coffee to brew. Eddie had only just mentioned in passing that he thinks Stan would win, so of course Richie had to share his opinion. “Plus, students love a professor who can joke around with them.”

“I guess graciousness wouldn’t make an appearance in your ruling, then,” Eddie says, making sure to get both chicken and lettuce when he stabs at the salad in front of him.

“I’d be more worried about the attention getting to his head,” Mike grins from over on the couches. “Students could probably just bat their eyelashes at him and he’d give them a passing grade.”

“Hey, no,” Richie objects, spilling some sugar on the counter as his hands flail about. “How dare you. I follow the proper guides to grading, just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, otherwise Beverly would probably have your ass fired,” Eddie says around a mouthful of food.

“Oh, she can fire my ass in more ways than one,” Richie winks, and Ben throws a stress ball at him from across the room.

“Gross,” Eddie mutters.

“Besides, you and Stan the Man blow each other’s chucks every other night, of course you’re biased,” Richie continues, sliding into the seat opposite Eddie as he mimes a blowjob.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I didn’t need a visual, thanks.”

“I’ll have to object to that, Rich,” Mike says. “Stan is a very attractive gentleman.”

“I think Richard here is just jealous I’m actually getting some every week,” Eddie says through a smirk, and Ben makes an ‘ooo’ sound.

“Now, now children,” Mike scolds, but there’s a smile playing at his lips as he shakes his head. “We’re all adults here, remember?”

“What have I missed now?” comes Stan’s voice as he steps into the staff lounge.

“Well, I’m glad you asked Stanny—” Richie starts.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” Stan repeats.

“Unfair,” Richie almost pouts. Sometimes Eddie really does wonder how he got a job as a professor. “Married couples should not work together. You guys get an advantage over the rest of us. Tag teamers.” He whispers the last part.

“You don’t have to be married to gang up on someone,” Ben interjects.

“Clearly,” Richie fakes offence.

Stan walks over to take the seat next to Eddie, pulling out an identical salad. He’d made it up for the both of them this morning – something about needing to use up the chicken before it went bad.

“Aw, look at that,” Richie nods and grins down at their food.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Richie wants to get married,” Stan muses, setting out his lunch until it’s neatly presented on the table. Eddie looks to Richie with a quirked brow.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love love,” Richie says, and they hear Ben chuckle from behind them. “But as you said before, you don’t need to be married to share something with someone, including salad.”

“I’ll share a salad with you, buddy,” Mike says to Richie sympathetically.

Richie reaches out a hand to him dramatically. “Bless your heart, Mikey, you’re my only hoe.”

Mike gives him some finger guns before Ben’s cutting in with a question to distract them. Eddie never quite knows how the lunch hour they share at work continuously manages to stay this manic, but it’s always a nice break in between class after class and numbly grading more papers than he can count sometimes.

Early on in their relationship, Eddie found out Stan has this unique ability to calm him down, to some degree. During days where he gets too stressed about work, Stan was always there with some words of advice, or to give him a massage with his skilled hands. Even just having his husband sitting next to him was enough for Eddie to slump down in his chair and rest his head on Stan’s shoulder.

Stan’s left hand reaches down to squeeze Eddie’s thigh gently. “Hey,” he murmurs into the side of Eddie’s face. “I have to work late again tonight. Sorry I’ll have miss dinner.”

Eddie turns his head to meet his eyes, offering up a smile. “That’s alright. I can heat some up for you when you get home?”

“Sounds good,” Stan says and kisses his temple.

“Hey, if Stan’s not going to join you, I’ll happily eat whatever food you make, Eds,” Richie says, obviously having eavesdropped. “It makes me sad, thinking about you eating alone.”

“Richie, you eat alone almost every night,” Stan deadpans.

“By choice,” Richie says.

“I know,” Ben calls over to them. “We should sign Rich up for The Bachelor.”

“Ugh, that biphobic garbage? No thanks,” Richie laughs.

“Come on Ben, you should know better,” Mike says.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben says and holds his hands up.

“Maybe I’ll make my own show,” Richie starts, standing up slowly as his eyes grow wide. “I’ll call it Dicked in Paradise. All of the contestants have to walk around in a banana costume – no fancy dress here. And instead of a ceremonial rose, you get a dildo.”

“That man has a PhD,” Stan whispers, as if a small part of him is dying. Eddie can’t help but laugh into his shoulder.

*

At the sound of rapping on the door, Eddie places the knife back down on the chopping board and curiously walks over to open it.

“Oh my God,” Eddie lets out a small laugh when he sees who it is. “You were serious when you said you were coming over to eat our food?”

“Serious as a heart attack, Spaghetti Man,” Richie says and sidesteps Eddie into his apartment, carrying a six-pack with him. Eddie is used to it at this point and closes the door after him. “So, what are we having?”

Together they spend the next hour drinking Richie’s beers as they slowly prepare all of the ingredients for a Thai green curry. Although, there was less preparation involved and more drinking, since any time Richie tried to help out with cutting up the vegetables Eddie would freak out, convinced Richie was going to hurt himself and get blood all over the counter.

“I’m not that incompetent with a knife you know,” Richie insists, though he lets Eddie take the knife away anyway and reaches for his drink again.

“And yet you’re over here stealing our dinner instead of making your own.”

“Touché,” Richie grins.

“How you and Bill manage survive by yourselves is beyond me,” Eddie says, sliding the vegetables into the large pan simmering away. “I’m glad you’re his neighbour or else I’m sure he wouldn’t remember to dress himself half the time.”

“Hey, don’t be knocking our swanky bachelor pads,” Richie says, and Eddie mouths ‘swanky’ with a shake of his head. “We’re totally competent people and perfectly happy the way things are. Oh—” Richie waves his hand at the food. “Can I take home a serve for Bill?”

“You’re both ridiculous.”

When the food is ready, Richie piles up a massive serve before moving out to the lounge room to eat. Typically, Eddie and Stan eat together at the table, so it’s always a bizarre feeling to change spots. But he settles down comfortably on the couch as Richie asks if they can have Seinfeld play on in the background.

“What’s Stan the Man doing anyway?” Richie asks around a mouthful of food.

Eddie plays with his rice as he answers, “Helping out Cindy with her overflow. I think they only have a week’s worth of paperwork left.”

“He’s a trooper, that one,” Richie says, attention briefly torn when the screen shows Kramer as he drops hundreds of nickels on the counter to pay for his food.

“It’s been stressing him out a bit, and I know he feels bad about not being home as often,” Eddie continues, not sure why he’s even saying any of this. But he knows Richie wouldn’t offer any pity, just a willing ear to listen. “I just wish he wouldn’t worry so much.”

“Show him that, then,” Richie says, and Eddie looks at him, not expecting to receive any kind of advice in return.

“How do you mean?”

“Just, like—” Richie starts, shifting around on the cushions and making a small noise. “Next time he’s home, do, like, fancy shit for him. Don’t tell him not to worry – prove that there’s no need for him too. Dress up nice or take him out for a night on the town or buy a new sex toy, whatever. The future is yours, my friend.”

“Thanks,” Eddie deadpans.

“Eds, I know he’s been missing you, too. Lord knows I hear it often enough,” Richie mumbles with a fond eye-roll.

Eddie feels his chest bloom with warmth, and decides to take Richie’s advice. He’ll treat Stan to a full day of delicacies and hopefully, if it all goes well, they can both forget about work for one night and spend it together instead.

*

 Eddie begins his plan by starting small.

For the remaining week where Stan will be working later most days, Eddie does things for his husband in ways that aren’t too extravagant, but enough to show he cares and that he supports him. Thanks to Eddie’s class being considerably smaller, and also having two sub teachers helping him with his students, he managed to wrap up the bulk of his work two weeks previous.

So Eddie uses his free time to continue cooking meals for them at home, testing out a few different recipes from a vegetarian cookbook Mike had gotten Stan for Christmas last year. Two of them had been great successes, and Stan promised to cook them again for them both one night.

Eddie goes out one evening to purchase some new bed sheets he’s had his eye on for a couple of months now. By the time he’s changed them over and Stan stumbles home, dead on his feet, Eddie drags him off to bed, tucking him underneath the covers and smiling at the surprised but pleased look Stan throws at him.

He even indulges Stan in the morning when Eddie feels his arousal press into his lower back, rutting against him ever so softly in the early light of the morning. During times like this at work, they tend to forget about pleasuring each other, simply being too busy. But Eddie can’t deny Stan this, missing it just as much, and goes down on him before they hop on over to share a quick shower.

In the six years they’ve been together, and married for two, Eddie has learned a lot about what it takes to make a commitment work. He knows being bitter towards Stan’s dedication to work would only end in them both being frustrated and upset, so he stays as understanding as he can. He’d been hesitant, in the beginning of their relationship, to go for what he really wanted. But Stan always proves to him, in his own way, how much he loves Eddie for who he is, patiently waiting for Eddie to come to terms with their developing coupling. They compliment each other in ways Eddie’s never experienced with another partner, and while they do have their arguments, Eddie’s never felt more confident in a relationship before.  

The journey was never stopping, and he knew he was ready to stick around until the end.

And finally, on the Saturday after Stan had officially completed his work, Eddie makes no move to wake them both up, instead taking the opportunity to doze, drifting in and out of sleep as he watches Stan softly lying next to him. It was as if a weight was lifted off both of them, and Eddie plans to utilise this freedom to its fullest.

Eventually, once he’s feeling more awake, he slips out of bed and over to the bathroom. He cleans himself up, sloshing around a decent amount of mouthwash before combing through his curls. When he walks back out, Stan has moved onto his back, hands clasped behind his head and eyes shut. Eddie sinks back onto the mattress and shimmies over to Stan, running a hand delicately over his chest.

“Morning,” Stan murmurs, curling an arm around Eddie to bring him in closer. He opens his eyes and smiles softly. “What’s that I hear? A whole day, uninterrupted, to spend with my husband? Surely not…”

Eddie smiles back, cupping both sides of Stan’s face and leaning down to kiss him, gentle and slow, before pulling back with a wet sound. “You better believe it.”

“We definitely don’t have any commitments today?” Stan checks. Eddie shakes his head, having previously made sure to keep this day open.

“To start, I thought we could make breakfast together,” Eddie suggests, now running his fingers through the curls behind Stan’s ears.

“Sure,” Stan says, caressing one of Eddie’s wrists. “I’m making my coffee Irish today. I think I need it.”

Eddie laughs quietly before leaning down to kiss him again.

*

“I think you might have a coffee addiction,” Stan muses, holding the door open as Eddie steps out of the bustling Starbucks.

“My love for coffee is perfectly average,” Eddie says, handing over one grande cup to Stan as they continue down the path. “Not my fault you asked for tea.”

Stan smiles before taking a light sip of his hot drink. Today is a beautiful spring day, and Eddie couldn’t be more glad for it. He’d spent last night preparing everything before Stan got home, checking the weather to make sure there wouldn’t be any light showers the next day.

He reaches out to twine their fingers together, and Stan squeezes back, swinging their hands between them slightly.

“So, where are you taking me?” Stan asks.

After their breakfast adventures that morning they had lazed about on the couch, doing the crossword together. Though Eddie spent most of his time kissing along Stan’s neck to distract him, and eventually it paid off when Stan got up to drag them both back to the bedroom. It had been hard to drag Stan into the shower and out of the apartment after that, but Eddie had promised it would be worth it.

“Well,” Eddie starts, side-eyeing him. “What do you think I have in my bag?”

Stan turns to look at it, as if just realising it’s there. “I have no idea. Tap shoes? Overdue library books? More whiskey so I can I make my tea Irish too?”

Eddie frowns at him funny. “I brought a picnic lunch for us.”

“Ah, so close,” Stan says, and Eddie bumps their hips together lightly.

They walk along through the city streets, basking in the feeling of not having the layer up anymore in the crisp winter air. The sun feels nice against Eddie’s skin, and as they’re waiting to cross at some lights he performs another checklist in his head to make sure he’s remembered everything. They make their way to the outer city limits where the botanical garden’s is located. There are couples and families everywhere, all enjoying the day for what it is, and Eddie pulls Stan around until they’re found a spot not yet overrun by people.

Eddie sets his backpack down and retrieves a blanket, laying it out messily until Stan ends up straightening it out. They settle down, partially shaded by the tree above, and Eddie carefully removes all of the foods he brought along with them.

“I won’t be needing dinner after this meal,” Stan laughs as he eyes the large spread before them.

“I wanted to be over prepared today,” Eddie says, somewhat bashfully. When he looks up, Stan is watching him closely, and without another word, leans over to kiss Eddie softly.

“Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re welcome, handsome.”

“Ah, I knew you just married me for my good looks,” Stan teases, resting on his elbow as he reaches out to grab one of the egg salad sandwiches Eddie made up.

“Yup,” Eddie says, taking the other sandwich half and biting into it. “You’re my trophy husband for sure.”

“For you baby, I’ll be anything,” Stan says and hums contently, and Eddie is still surprised when he feels his cheeks flush slightly.  

With his feet being exposed to the sun Eddie ends up slipping off his stuffy shoes after about 20 minutes, and Stan, cheekily acting as if it were botanical garden visiting protocol, does the same. The sky was mostly void of clouds, but there is a nice breeze blowing by that helped with some of the heat. At one point, a soccer ball landed near them and Eddie, never wanting to miss an opportunity, attempts to kick it back to the kids but ends up narrowly missing the pond featurette.

“If your aim was to get it as far away from the kids as possible then you did it, honey,” Stan teases when Eddie returns.

“Funny,” Eddie says and throws a single grape at him.

“Don’t waste grapes,” Stan whispers.

Eddie waggles his eyebrows and grabs an entire bunch, standing again and backing up a few steps, challenging. “I bet I can get ten in my mouth – in a row.”

“That’s childs play,” Stan says through squinted eyes, taking the bet. “The usual wager?”

“Bring it.”

When they were out of grapes and couldn’t possibly eat any more food, Eddie stops them both and suggests they catch up on their reading, eager to finish off a book he’s two thirds in.

“I didn’t bring my glasses, though,” Stan points out until Eddie grabs them from his bag along with Stan’s bookmarked George Shearing autobiography. “My, you sure do think of everything.”

Eddie smiles smugly before they both make themselves comfortable on the rug, with Stan’s head resting in Eddie’s lap so he can run his fingers through Stan’s hair. Eddie notices it’s getting to that almost-too-long stage, but figures another week or so won’t hurt him as he twirls a long curl around his finger.

It isn’t until later that Eddie finds he had fallen asleep, his own glasses askew on his face as he wakes up to Stan smiling behind his phone as he finishes snapping a picture of him.

“Ugh, I hate you,” Eddie grumbles.

“I think we should come here more often,” Stan says with a grin.

*

When they make it back to their apartment an hour later Eddie knows he should probably start putting all of the leftover food away and rinse out the containers, but it’s to no shock that his body is desperately crying out for a nice bubble bath and some red instead. But then, if he’s being even more honest, all he really wants is to head to the bedroom to clock in some much needed time to reacquaint himself with Stan’s hands and legs and chest and his everything.

“Thank you for that lovely Eddie-cation,” Stan murmurs into Eddie’s temple.

Eddie smiles, shifting one hand up and under Stan’s shirt as the other runs lightly over Stan’s collarbone. Stan’s hands have found their own way to Eddie’s hips as he draws their bodies together, foreheads bumping as Eddie whispers, “I won that bet, remember?”

“I remember,” Stan nods, now cupping Eddie’s face as he angles it, leaning down to seal their lips together.

Eddie makes a small noise, their tongues meeting languidly, indulging in letting Stan take the lead for one moment before he manages to tear himself away to suck in a deep breath. He backs up, fingers slipping into the gaps between Stan’s shirt buttons as they shuffle towards the bedroom.

“Today is about you, baby,” Eddie says, licking his lips. “I’m taking the lead, so you just sit back and enjoy the ride, okay?”

Stan grins, and the sound of clothes shedding begins.

*

Mind dizzy on endorphins and heartbeat loud in his ears, Eddie slips out of Stan before collapsing on the bed, loving the feeling of their new, cool sheets against his hot skin. Stan flops next to him, breathing in quick, little pants as they wait to calm down.

“So,” Eddie groans, rolling onto his side to face Stan properly. “Did you have a nice day?”

Stan laughs, a touch disbelieving. “It was amazing, yes. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie breathes, eyes slipping shut.

“Not sure what I did to deserve it, but… thank you,” Stan says, quieter.

Eddie peaks at him through one open eye. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, don’t think I haven’t noticed. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“With this kind of reward? Watch my motivation skyrocket,” Stan says.

Eddie throws him a well deserved eye-roll before his thoughts drift back to when they arrived home. “I think I want my dinner tonight to just be a bottle of red. What do you think?”

“I think you may be onto something there,” Stan says, and even though they really need to shower, Eddie makes time for one more long, lazy kiss shared between lovestruck smiles.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 31: Sentimental

Summary: A letter’s bucket list from 1943 is complete with a trip to the fair.

AN: This is the fair from Collins’ letter in Chapter 19.

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“Come on,” Genevieve dragged Jack by the hand towards the Ferris Wheel, “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

“I’m coming, my darling, slow down!” He laughed at her childish impatience.

Genevieve kept tugging him without restraint in her happiness. It was just as she had been in the museum only now neither of them was under the burden of their secret, her pneumonia or even her limp (as much). They ran faster, more careless, no fear of rejection from one another looming over their heads like a raincloud.

After getting minor whiplash on the Dodgems and taking pleasure in going on the Waltzers before they’d eaten, the Ferris Wheel seemed like a decent place to unwind.

The two were sat in the cart and the bar was laid over their laps with Genevieve’s cane as an added comfort. They received an odd look from the person in charge of the ride. A quick glance at the adolescents in the queue implied that Jack and Genevieve were not the target demographic for the Ferris Wheel. That didn’t stop them from grinning giddily as the Wheel started up. They whooped with every loop of the ride, arms raised to feel the air shift around them, make way for their traverse.

They reached the top; the brightly coloured lights and music muted and an island amidst the black horizon. The weather bit Genevieve’s nose and cheeks so she tucked her scarf over them, condensation flying from her warm breath.

“God, it’s cold,” Jack rubbed his hands then blew into them.

“Here,” Genevieve pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket, “Take this.”

“Ok,” Jack said slowly as he held up the left glove and Genevieve took the right one.

“What, do I put both my hands in it?”

“No, put it on your left hand,” Genevieve said in a “no-duh” tone. Once Jack did so, Genevieve took his bare hand, linking her fingers in his then rubbed the back of his hand with her gloved one.

“There,” She smiled, “Problem solved.”

Jack held up their linked hands and pressed a kiss on the back of hers, “You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you, I know,” Genevieve beamed, her legs sticking out over the edge of the cart – not rocking it, just feeling the cold wind cut past. Then she tilted her head against Jack’s shoulder, looking up at his wistful gaze surveying the horizon, “Do you miss flying?”

“Sometimes. I miss it more than the people shooting at me.”

“We can share that.”

Collins chuckled, his laughter no longer wheezing with his sickness. Their hands closed around each others, rubbing the bare skin to warm it up and rising into the air as the Big Wheel started up again. Cheering mixed with groaning now, the pair huddled up together to stay warm and were somewhat pleased when they got off.

Her words muffled in the scarf, Genevieve mused allowed, “You must’ve used all your wool coupons for this.”

“I refuse to discuss the expenses of your present,” Jack said, taking in the inky coloured material that matched the sky before dropping his voice to continue with a contradiction, “And it was not all of them.”

Nudging him gently, Genevieve looped her arm through his, “Let’s eat some ‘clouds’.”

Exchanging a few coins, reserving the last couple that they had for the next activity, Genevieve and Jack each bought a stick with the candy floss whirled around them. Genevieve got stuck in immediately, eating messily, whilst Collins plucked of portions to roll into bite size pieces. Their jaunty walk around the fair resumed.

“You have some stuff stuck to your cheeks,” Jack laughed at Genevieve through his sugary treat that melted on his tongue.

“You have something on your cheek too,” She pointed to his skin that was red with the cold. As Jack touched it to wipe away this alleged something, she touched her lips to his cheek and wiped the sugary remnants of her candy floss onto it. Jack flinched away with a giggle.

He was then distracted by the coconut shy at the very edge of the fair. Instantly he made a beeline towards it, ready to show off to his spouse. Genevieve followed him to stand next to the stall. As he juggled with his money, she leant her cane against the stall and munched on her candy floss.

He placed his balls on the counter and passed one to Genevieve in exchange for her candy floss, “Here, let me show you my technique.”

Jack passed hers and his candy floss to the stall vender, who accepted rather surprised to be more involved in these customers’ antics. But he was paid so it was alright.

Genevieve groaned in fake annoyance as Jack stood behind her. His hands found her waist to pivot it and her throwing hand. Then he took her through the motions and instructed her on how to aim and throw. Jack knew very well that Genevieve could knock all the coconuts off given the chance. But she was currently snorting away in embarrassed laughter as he pretended to guide her.

“There, now it’s your go,” He stepped aside, looking like a proud coach sending his protégée into their first competition.

Genevieve missed the first one. It wasn’t unnoticed by Jack that she rubbed her shoulder before going again but he didn’t step in, trusting Genevieve to know her limits. She hit the coconut with the second one and that one wobbled. The final one, she knocked it off the stand and it landed with a thump on the ground. The pair crowed with success, Genevieve taking a bow before she was awarded her candy floss and coconut.

The stall vender looked rather displeased when Jack paid for his turn and nailed the coconut in the centre, sending it toppling onto the ground on his first try. With the prizes, the pair skedaddled off the other way around.

“I can’t believe we’ve become that couple,” Genevieve mused aloud, her coconut resting in the crook of her arm, “See what relationship stuff we’ve been missing out on.”

Jack nodded in agreement, “Amazing what sentiment will do to you.”

Genevieve would’ve protested, simply because she liked this banter without consequence, but then her candy floss shrank away from her. It was melting with a single but masterfully aimed drop of rain.

“Caught in the rain again. This is becoming a tendency for us,” She remarked casually as Jack buttoned up his coat. She took his hand and the pair went to stand under a shelter to wait for the pre-April showers to pass. It wasn’t long. Mother Nature was sporadic in her rainfall this year.

The rain was lessened after thus the walk back was slow. Genevieve’s leg had begun to ache ever so slightly but, with her new physiotherapy timetable, it was easily manageable with a steady stride.

Ever the gentleman, Jack shared the last of his candy floss with Genevieve. That eased the pace a little more, with the conversation of attachment and it wasn’t long until they reached Jack’s flat.

“Drink?” He offered, hanging his coat up on the hook as Genevieve went to grab a towel for him.

“No thank you,” She called, “Would you mind if I used your bath a bit later?”

Jack minded a hell of a lot but he didn’t say anything.

“You could join me too, might get sick again and we don’t want that. Cora would kill me. By the way, how was she when you went to see her today?” Genevieve reappeared and immediately began to rub Collins’ hair dry. He smiled as she fuzzed it all up to the right, completing his windswept appearance.

“She was fine, and she wouldn’t kill you. She adores you.”

He didn’t miss the twitch of a smile from Genevieve. She was pleased that his family likes her. Finishing off his hair by brushing her hand to smooth it out, she flipped the towel over to wipe her face and pat her clothes down as she walked into the living room.

“Ginny?”

“Hmm?”

She turned and saw that Jack was holding out his cigarette tin to her.

“Could you open it please? Bloody thing gets stuck.”

Naturally, Genevieve accepted. There was a dull rattle inside when she attempted to pry the tin open. That confused her initially but then maybe he kept her dog tags in there with her old letters to him.

“Maybe it’s time you got a new one,” She mused through gritted teeth, the tin staying securely sealed.

Jack shrugged helplessly, “I’m too attached.”

“Now that’s sentimentalism,” Genevieve said smugly, trying a new technique of yanking the lid.

“Careful!” Jack said with an urgency that was a cause for concern. It wasn’t as if the letters would break open falling out. But still, Genevieve listened and began to wiggle at the lid, easing it open. It was like the man had fastened it with super glue. She managed to open it up but almost dropped it, causing a clatter and both her and Jack to grab the tin. Opening it slowly, she saw that her dog tags weren’t there.

A simple gold platinum band with a diamond connecting the two ends sat on top her letters.

Genevieve stared at it. She understood instantly what was happening but her body was still trying to catch up with the speed of her mind. She was unmoving, barely breathing, ready to answer the question Jack hadn’t asked yet.

Heart constricting in his chest at this response, Jack lifted the cigarette case from Genevieve’s loose grip. He struggled to keep his balance on wobbly knees but he managed to get down on one. His expression was drawn in a hopeful smile as he plucked the ring out. It took him a moment to remind himself to speak slowly and he was glad that he hadn’t planned anything too extravagant.

“I want to help you through your bad days and feel you near me whether I’m well or not. I think I’ve wanted to ask since the evacuation, which is too long coming. I should’ve listened to Farrier when he said ‘marry this woman right now’. So, Ginny…” He paused, an unbearable silence, and Genevieve was terrified that he might fall over, “Genevieve, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Genevieve said with quick conviction, glad that he only had a short speech or else she might have interrupted him.

Jack sprung off the floor with a squeak and threw his arms around Genevieve, the case snapping shut so that the ring wasn’t lost. There was no need for him to contain himself any longer. It coincided with Genevieve’s grasp on herself returning. He scooped up Genevieve, her arms locked about his neck, and spun her about his sitting room. Her feet nearly clipped several pieces of furniture and wall before she was placed back down. Neither had noticed in their frenzy of emotions.

“It was my gran’s; had to check today if my mum was alright with it,” Jack started losing his words, “Might have to resize it. I couldn’t wait.”

 “That’s ok,” Genevieve shook her head, grinning widely as Jack tried to reopen the tin to put the ring on her finger. He managed to do so without losing the ring and, with shaking hands, he slipped it on. It was almost a perfect fit.

“Is it like a competition then? The first in the family to get engaged gets the ring,” Genevieve said without looking away from it. Her hand pivoted slightly to see the diamond catch the light.

“No, but I’ve won anyway so it’s alright,” Jack joked before getting back to giddiness, “I’m getting married to you.”

“God I love you,” Genevieve said, breathless as she kissed him on both cheeks and then his lips with her arm slung over his shoulders. Her hands linked at the back, warming to the new addition on her left hand.

“I love you so much,” Jack mumbled back against her mouth, kissing her with his grin permanently fixed on his face.  

Before she could become overwhelmed again, Genevieve pulled back, “I know the perfect way to celebrate.”

Half an hour later, the pair was sat at opposite ends of the bath, bubbles reserved for special occasions filling the tub. Two coconuts sat in split halves with two spoons beside the fragments. Legs were tucked up to fit. Jack scooped out the meat of the coconut to eat his prize whilst Genevieve finished adjusting the strap of her bra for comfort’s sake. Wet undergarments were not the most accommodating.

But she was not content to stay on her side of the bath. Abandoning her coconut, she shifted onto her knees in front of him. She took one of his bottles and shook it to get the shampoo down the right end.

Jack got the message and placed his food aside. He shuffled forward; his legs crossed and pulled up to his chest as Genevieve rubbed the oil onto both palms. Both giggled as Jack hummed with the feeling of his hair being washed, his eyes closed and mouth drawn up in a smile. Still giddy, Genevieve smeared a little collective of bubbles on the tip of Jack’s nose for her benefit.

“Your turn.”

Genevieve offered to spin around which Jack was grateful for. Her hair became slick against her scalp as he rinsed it before washing. He thumbed over her scar, subtly lifting a layer of her hair to see it. It was barely visible under the soap suds and new hair growing around it.

With all hair washed and rinsed through into cleanliness, the pair settled into a cuddle. Genevieve remained in Jack’s chest, both sinking into the water, until the temperature dropped below their liking. Then came the next step in celebrations: Genevieve towel drying Jack’s hair into a frizz.

“Thank you for asking me,” She spoke when she was done, grinning and holding onto the final vowel.

Dipping his head down, Jack kissed her shoulder’s scar through her pyjamas, “You’re welcome. Thank you for taking me.”

She stayed in his lap, her right arm bent at the elbow to create a neck rest for Jack as he looked up at her. He beamed contented when Genevieve brushed back his thick (if slightly damp) hair with her free hand. When he kissed her again, she reciprocated with soft tenderness, with an intimacy he craved for the longest time and it was now a standard.

Genevieve was always more elated with Jack, after her worst and in her best. Now she’d get to feel like this every day.

Perma-tag: @tomgcsglasses, @lowdenglynnstyles, @kgcurtis30, @carneylowdenwhitehead, @scottishlowden and @theres-no-paradise

Jack tag: @adriennelenoir, @from-the-clouds, @lowdensnose and @johannalauraaa​

Complementary tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @lavidademarimar, @sweetsugarhoneyfics and @prettyboytgc

[sonoflayton]

Laws

DISCLAIMER

I do not claim to be or own Alfendi Layton or any of the face claims I have used for him.

SENSITIVE SUBJECTS

If you can't already tell, sensitive subjects are often discussed on this blog. Lots of traumatic events have occured in Alfendi's life, and they heavily affect who he is as a character. In addition, Alfendi works as an inspector for the Scotland Yard, typically solving locked-room murders, so the subject of death and murder is bound to come up. Al and Fendi also have their own mental health issues that they're sorting through, like Al's PTSD and Fendi's depression.

Because of this, this blog has a recommended age rating of 18+. Minors are welcome to follow, but please be aware of what you're getting into, as I will not be censoring anything for you (aside from tagging triggers).

PRIVACY

I am a PRIVATE blog, meaning that I only interact in character with my mutuals. A mutual is an account that follows and is followed by me. If I do not follow you, we are not ( yet ) mutuals. If we are not mutuals, please do not send me in character content, attempt to initiate threads, etc. The only exceptions to this rule are sideblogs that I follow that cannot follow me back ( y’know, ‘cause they’re sideblogs ).

SELECTIVITY

I am a SEMI-SELECTIVE blog, meaning that I can be picky about who I follow, but I will not dismiss any blog without giving their account a fair, solid look. If I decide not to follow you, please don't take it personally! It is a polite declination to roleplay.

UNFOLLOWING

IF YOU DON'T FOLLOW ME BACK AFTER TWO DAYS TO A WEEK, I WILL UNFOLLOW. This is in the interest of keeping my dash clean and limited to only those that I can interact with. If you follow me back after that time period, I will refollow you, so no worries. 

ACTIVITY

AT ANY GIVEN POINT IN TIME, I AM ONLY SEMI-ACTIVE AND HAVE LOW ACTIVITY. As much as I love writing and roleplaying, my real life comes first. I’m a full-time college student and it is possible for me to disappear for as long as a week without even a notice. ( Though I’ll try to at least give a heads up.

I am often SLOW TO REPLY. This isn't always because I am busy, but because I have ADHD and depression, which affects my motivation and ability to focus on my replies, unless the thread I'm replying to is my "new favorite thread". I'm sorry!

QUEUE

MY BLOG RUNS ON A QUEUE. My queue is set to post three times daily, at 10am, 12pm and 2pm PST. All threads will be queued. OOC posts and memes, non-starter asks, etc. are posted as they are conceived. If, for some reason, I have fallen behind in my drafts, I will load a couple of day’s worth of posts in my queue in order to allow me time to catch up.

THREAD TRACKER

I have one.

GUEST MUSES

Are you an Alfendi blog whose getting tired of the "OMG, it's me from another universe" plot? Do you want to know more about some of the characters that influenced my Alfendi? Look no further: my blog features guest muses for your interaction pleasure.

• Guest muses are not full muses. They are here to add depth to my Alfendi's story.

• Guest muses default to my own interpretation of Alfendi and his canon. What does this mean? If you send a guest muse an ask about Alfendi, they will default to my Alfendi and speak on him unless otherwise stated. During threads, especially ones where the multiverse is acknowledged, guest muses will default to my blog's canon. There can and will be exceptions to this, and those will only take place when discussed by the muns.

• For Claira, everything above is void. Claira is an OC, one that I'm proud of so far and excited to work with. If Claira meets an Alfendi that is not my own, her canon will change to fit that of the Alfendi she meets. She is here as a guest muse for the meantime, but if she gains traction, she will be given her own blog.

• In addition, if Alfendi is asked about or name drops a character who happens to be one of my guest muses, he is speaking about my guest muse unless otherwise specified. The only exception to this is if I have an exclusive sharing the same muse as one of my guest muses. If this is the case, the exclusive muse will take priority.

MAINS & EXCLUSIVES

Here's my mains & exclusives call, to help break the ice if you're interested in being mains or exclusives!

Poptart, what are mains & exclusives? I'm glad you asked.

Being exclusives means that you are the only version of your muse I will interact with, and I am the only Alfendi you will interact with. The benefits of being exclusives with me are:

• Reduced duplicate anxiety for both of us.

• When your muse is namedropped by Alfendi, Alfendi means your muse.

• When your muse is namedropped by someone else, Alfendi will react as though they meant your muse.

• Many opportunities for deeper character and relationship development.

• Surprise starters.

An exclusive relationship requires a lot of trust, obviously, so before becoming exclusives, we need to be OOC friends.

If you, an exclusive of mine, go inactive for a month or more without notice, you'll be bumped down to a main. Not because I don't love you, but simply because it isn't fair to others. I expect the same treatment. If I haven't started interacting with a new version of your muse when you return, I'll be happy to take you back as an exclusive.

Being mains means that you are the primary version of your muse I will interact with, and I am the primary Alfendi you will interact with. The benefits of being mains with me are:

• If I have an idea for a plot for our muses, I will come to you first before anyone else.

• Many opportunities for deeper character and relationship development.

• Surprise starters.

I would like to have at least a thread, preferably more, and I'd like to get to know you OOC before becoming mains.

I accept two mains per muse, but if you want in, talk to me. I might make an exception.

SHIPPING

I am a MULTISHIP BLOG. This means that every ship with my muses takes place in an alternate universe where each ship is canon, and as such, infidelity does not occur. Do not accuse my muse of cheating on yours with another muse that they are being shipped with. Infidelity only occurs when plotted with all involved parties.

REMINDERS

PLEASE DO NOT SPAM ME FOR REPLIES. I'm grateful for the occasional enthusiastic reminder, inquiry, or idea about our thread, but nothing too aggressive or constant, please. 

NSFW

REGARDING 18+ CONTENT: As of writing, I am 19 years old. My birthday is 09/29/2000. I am comfortable discussing sex occasionally, making racy jokes, etc. I am not comfortable writing smut, please do not proposition me to do so. I am also not comfortable discussing sex with or about muses or muns who are minors.

THE MUN IS AN IDIOT

Sometimes I make mistakes, so does everyone. I can guarantee that I never mean any malice, so if I have accidentally said something rude or offensive, please correct me. Sometimes you will know more than me about a given subject. I will always try to do my research, but if I ever say something incorrect, let me know!

TRIGGERS

I TAG TRIGGERS AS "#TRIGGER TW" (e.g. "#negativity tw"). Sometimes I forget to tag some common and unique triggers. Please let me know if I forget one! I will immediately go back and tag it.

BLACKLIST

Please tag naughty things with "#nsfw", "#nsfw tw", "#lemon", "#lemon tw", "#smut", "#smut tw", or something along those lines.

Also, please tag vague posts with "#vague" or "#vague tw".

Please don't use aesthetic tags to tag these sorts of posts.

DON'T TALK SHIT

In the same vein as the rule above, IF YOU PLAN ON TALKING SMACK ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK, BLOCK ME. IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME, SAY IT TO MY FACE OR DON’T SAY IT AT ALL. I’m an adult and I can take criticism like one. This is a massive no-no when it comes to interacting with me and will earn you an instablock.

FAN ART

IF I HAVE USED FAN ART, IT IS PROBABLY AN ACCIDENT. I try to only use fan art if and only if I know for a fact that the artist is comfortable with roleplayers doing so. If the artist has not publically stated their comfort with roleplayers using their art, andI have used their art, it is 100% an accident and I have likely confused their art for canon material. Please let me know if I have done so, and I will react accordingly.

MY ART

Being surrounded by all these artist friends lately has inspired me to practice my artwork more seriously. Please don't use any artwork that I post here for anything. I'm insecure about how my art looks, and usually the artwork that I post on this blog reflects my specific headcanons and things relating to Alfendi or the guest muses, so I'm not really comfortable with it being spread around.

That being said, if I draw you art as a gift, you are allowed to do whatever you want with it. Make icons? Promo graphics? Go for it, it's my gift to you. You don't even need to credit me. You are not, however, allowed to badger me into making free art for you. That's just not cool.

Here's a good rule of thumb: If you see artwork watermarked with my URL, please don't use it. If I send you art in DMs without a watermark, go wild!

COMMISSIONS

Please do not reach out to me in asking for free graphics, icons, promos, art, etc. This has happened multiple times. Yes, sometimes I do free art and graphics for friends, but this is never prompted by them---it is always because I am inspired, not because they solicited it.

As someone who is struggling to make ends meet, knowing that people are commissioned for this sort of thing, this makes me very uncomfortable. This is for a few reasons. One, if someone comes to me, requesting I make them a graphic for free and I do it, I would feel guilty, as though I was taking work from an artist who makes their living making such graphics. Two, it feels a little exploitative, because if I say no, I could be putting our relationship at risk. Three, because of how exploitative it is, I worry that someone may try to manipulate me into being their friend specifically to get free art and graphics from me.

I’m happy to do informal commissions and such for whatever you need. Pricing will be discussed on what we decide together sounds reasonable, but I’ll be flexible. I don’t expect to earn much, and money earned will be used to fund minor luxuries. If enough people commission me and I earn a better understanding of how commissions work, I’ll open up commissions formally.

CALLOUTS

I NO LONGER BOOST CALLOUT POSTS UNLESS THE CALLOUT IS PROVING BEYOND A SHADOW OF A DOUBT THAT THE BLOG IN QUESTION IS DANGEROUS (NOT TOXIC). I have simply made the personal decision to no longer boost callouts regarding someone’s behavior. For those who would like more information, please contact me privately with a polite inquiry.

DO NOT POLICE WHO I DECIDE TO INTERACT WITH

IF I INTERACT WITH SOMEONE, AND THEY MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL TAG THEIR URL FROM THEN ON. Or you can unfollow, that’s cool too. No hard feelings.

LIKING THREAD HABITS

I TRY TO LIKE THE MOST RECENT REPLY TO OUR THREAD WHEN I ADD IT TO MY DRAFTS. It's a notification for you to let you know that your thread made it into my drafts and I have not lost it.

FOLLOWER TRACKER

I USE A FOLLOWER TRACKER. It doesn't track your IP or location or anything, it just checks my follower list for changes. I only use it to ensure that I don't send any more in character content to you if you are no longer interested in interacting with me. I take no offense if you do decide to unfollow me, and I won't hunt you down and ask for an explanation or anything creepy like that.

ICONS

PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY ICONS. I spend a lot of time working on them. It makes me very sad. Instead, please consider asking me directly how I achieve the effect you like on my icons so you can make a cool psd of your own.

GODMODING

You control your character, I control mine, DON'T GODMOD, GODMODE, POWERPLAY, AUTOHIT, ETC. It's not cool. If it does happen, I'll assume it was an accident and ask you to change your reply.

PLEASE CUT YOUR POSTS.

If the thread is para or multipara, I’m alright with three replies on a single post: your reply, your partner’s reply, and then your next reply. If the thread is a one-liner or crack, I’m alright with more as long as you don’t go overboard. If you do more than I’m okay with, I may unfollow for the sake of having a clean dashboard that I can scroll through.

ASKS ON NEW POSTS

IF OUR THREAD BEGINS WITH AN ASK, PLEASE CONTINUE IT ON A NEW POST LINKING BACK TO THE ORIGINAL ASK. Please. It’s confusing and cluttered and looks really ugly.

REBLOG KARMA

PLEASE DON’T REBLOG ROLEPLAY MEMES FROM ME without sending one in beforehand. I mean, I’m not going to be angry or confront if you do, but I’m just going to be a little bit upset and hurt about it.

SPECIFY MUSE

I am not a mind reader, so PLEASE SPECIFY MUSE WHEN LIKING STARTER CALLS, SENDING MEMES, ETC. I always say something along the lines of “tell me who you want or I’ll pick for you”, but what I’m probably actually going to do is, depending on how comfortable I am with you, ask you directly which muse you wanted, or completely avoid you because I’m scared of messing up.

MUN VS. MUSE

I, THE MUN, AM NOT MY MUSE. MY MUSE IS NOT ME. Please don't confuse us, our behaviors, or our ideals.

MUSE AND FANDOM DISCOMFORT

I HAVE SOME MUSES AND FANDOMS THAT MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE. These include, but are not limited to:

My Little Pony muses.If you are a single muse blog, and you write an MLP muse, I am not likely to follow you. If you are a multimuse, however, and you write non-MLP muses, this alone will not deter me from following you. I merely have a personal distaste for MLP.

Dolph from Camp Camp. Hitler jokes are not funny, and shame on the team for thinking it’s okay to make an entire character who is one. Unless you are writing Dolph in a way that you are actively acknowledging the bad choices on the part of the creators and are developing him as a character in a way that moves him beyond his unfortunate schtick, I have no interest in writing with you or any other muses you may have.

Real-life people. I’m not really cool with roleplaying with people who roleplay as real-life people, such as YouTubers, historical figures or idols, especially those such as Jacksepticeye, who has expressly stated his discomfort publicly. I find it disrespectful and it makes me uncomfortable. Self-insert OCs are of a different variety, one that I’m okay with interacting with as long as typical RP etiquette is adhered to.

Religious and mythical figures and dieties. I'm not comfortable with muses who are from religious texts of any sort, because these figures are someone's god or messiahs, and to them, they are not works of fiction, and thus, portraying them is wildly inappropriate. If it isn't okay to portray Jesus Christ, why would it be okay to portray an obscure diety from Native American mythology? However, I am comfortable with interacting with OC or fictional characters who are deities, because they are creations of the imagination, not someone who is worshiped.

Genderbends. Genderbends, by their very existence, are transphobic. Here's a post that explains the issue beautifully. If you want to bend the gender of your muse, just make them trans, man.

UNWELCOME IDEALS

DO NOT INTERACT IF...

You are a pedophile, support pedophilia, or write smut with or about minors, or are a minor writing smut.

You support or write incest.

You write active discrimination in your threads. (Differing from mentioning and discussing discrimination as a part of your muse’s past.)

You write active sexual abuse or sexual violence in your threads. (Differing from mentioning and discussing sexual abuse and violence as a part of your muse’s past.) 

LISA & CHILD ABUSE

Child abuse is a topic that is frequently discussed on this blog, but is one that is always tagged and never written about explicitly. It only occurs implicitly with young Alfendi, and seldomly at that, and is sometimes talked about in threads.

I will never, ever, ever write Lisa. Ever. I am not comfortable writing her, not even for one of those 'ask my muse's parents' memes. I am not comfortable composing even a single line of dialogue for her. Not only is she abusive and gross, but attempting to write her would be triggering for me in a couple different ways.

If you want to terrorize Alfendi by sending an anon saying something as a Lisanon or Ghost!Lisa or whatever, go for it! Fuck him up! But, don't send literal active child abuse to my inbox, because that's disgusting.

UNFOLLOWING AND BLOCKING

It is extremely rare that I will unfollow or block someone. IF I HAVE UNFOLLOWED OR BLOCKED YOU, I HAVE A VALID REASON FOR DOING SO. I DO NOT OWE YOU AN EXPLANATION, SO PLEASE DO NOT INQUIRE.

If you decide to unfollow me, that is fair and I will not hold it against you. PLEASE SOFT BLOCK ME IF YOU CHOOSE TO DO SO.

BLOG PASSWORDS

I DON'T SEND IN BLOG PASSWORDS, EVEN THE 'LIKE-THE-POST' ONES. It makes me anxious. I promise that I have read your rules a minimum of thrice: once before following, once before beginning our first thread, and once before interacting. I often refer to other people's rules.

If you have read my rules, you are welcome to like this post to let me know! ( This is completely optional! )

MUN

Alias: POPTART Name: RED Birthdate: 09/29/2000 Pronouns: THEY/THEM Timezone: PST

hello! my name's poppy and i'm simultaneously a good lad and a chaotic entity. i have two cats named katrielle and flora. i really, really love this chaotic bastard, alfendi layton.

i'm in a relationship with @mragentofchaos.

CREDITS

Icons and PSD were made by me.

My main blog theme was made by ddkinzart on Tumblr.

The stars update tab was made by leiqhade on Tumblr.

The music player theme was made by nobroken on Tumblr.

The background for my blog was made by me, using these free bloodsplatter brushes.

The music player code used on my blog was made by fukuo on tumblr.

Alfendi sprites from the game are pulled and compiled by mysteryroomfiles.

Custom Alfendi sprites used in icons were made by mystery-room on Tumblr.

Some art used for icons was made by my friend p0p-r0x75 and is used with permission.

Some Alfendi icons were drawn for me by the lovely taiyodoroki as part of an art exchange and are used with permission.

Base icons for Alfendi's main face claim was made by professordipshit on Tumblr.

One of Alfendi's face claims is the Bartender from the manga "Le Théâtre de A", and the base icons were capped and made by me.

Base icons for one of Alfendi's mainverse face claims comes from dcfygraviity, boulevardofangstydreams, jefemetro, aspartha, and iconsbyafangirl, all on Tumblr.

Base icons for Alfendi's teen, young adult and child face claim were made by iconsbyafangirl [second link] [third link] [fourth link], sharesicons, iconmakingaddiction-blog, thatsharkguy, fuckyeahanimangaicons, and bishies-are-here, all on Tumblr.

Base icons for Alfendi's IRL face claim are made by rpicxns [second link], on tumblr.

Base icons for Alfendi's alternate IRL face claim are made by pripecias on Tumblr.

The 'faceless' rp icons used come from animanga-icon-dump on tumblr. I have since forgotten which icon packs I use.

My OOC faceclaim is Apollo Justice, and base icons for him were made by , nochordsofsteelnojustice, anythingapollo, and yumis-icons, all on tumblr. Fanart is used in some icons, and I assume due dilligence was done in asking the artists for permission before making base icons of their artwork. If your art is featured in these icons and your permission was not given, I will happily take them down and delete them from my computer upon request.

[horistans]

hello friends uwu it’s been some time!

Been filling up the queue every once in awhile and I’ve updated the blog’s theme! Please feel free to take a look at it! I am using a glenthemes theme.

I am still in the process of updating everything (such as adding announcements, properly making a change log, etc)

It’s quite an unceremonious return, but I can’t wait to share stuff with you all again!! 

I might be asking for feedback on this blog (specifically in regards to tagging) if that’s okay. If you have any suggestions for me, I’d love to hear them! The interface hasn’t seemed to change TOO much since I left, but with the new characters, I’m wondering if I should change the tags again...

If you’re interested, keep reading to get details on what I have done so far and what I’ve been up to during my hiatus!

On the desktop theme, I’m planning on keeping a similar format! With links on the side to where you can read GSNK, the taglist, and my fanfics. I intend on updating the announcements page for important dates (when gsnk ch are released on GanGan, when the most recent CMC chapter was released, character birthdays, etc). The News container will later be updated to contain blog changes (so, a change log) at some point.

I removed the submissions feature on this blog, since it was never used!

I’ve already updated the About page and was surprised to be reminded of the original intent of this blog! It won’t be happening anytime soon, but if we can host more events in the future, I think it would be very fun.

When I read the old About, I was reminded the original purpose of horisexual was actually to host fanfic competitions! Your love and engagement with my old fics made me really nostalgic, and a few on the GSNK discord convinced me to jump back into tumblr. I am glad that everyone is still so friendly and nice!

Re: the submissions feature (mentioned above), if we ever get to a point where we host a fanfic contest, I will likely be using the submissions as the way to submit.

(Speaking of events, will you be participating in GSNK Week? I’ve planned out what I want to draw already and I’m super excited~~)

I have also updated my Fanfics page using code from namjooneh but will continue to work on it so it fits horisexual better. I might have implemented this new format, but the filters don’t seem to work, so I’ve already found a backup that I just need to enter the fic information into.

You may also note that none of the long chapter fics are in there (except for one) because I’ve only decided to rewrite one of them (for now! We’ll see where that motivation goes, haha)

That being said, are there any ways you would like the fics to be filtered? I don’t believe the new format has a filter system, but it would be nice to know what information you would like me to add to the blurbs and previews!

As for an explanation for my hiatus:

I was receiving a lot of hate on my personal blog around mid-2016. A lot of the attacks were about information I overshared, which as a minor, I should have been more mindful of. I am ashamed of how I acted back then (refusing to simply ignore/block and instead kept responding && the information that I was freely giving out), but I’d like to think I’ve healed a lot since then. I have since went in, deleted all my posts on my personal blog from 2016, deleted the few remaining hate messages still in my inbox from that time, and am ready to start again.

What I’ve been up to:

In the past 4 years, I’ve been attending university within my state! Our GameDev program is apparently one of the best programs nationally, but no one seems to know that outside of our university (we were told to put it on our resume and bring it up in cover letters haha) so it’s a bit weird to talk about. I have made some games! This is a link to my portfolio if you want to know a little about them.

I’ve also started a ko-fi page! I used to be a dual major until recently, so I am taking an extra semester (plus this summer semester) to finish up my credits as I graduate. Graduating later than 4 years isn’t a big deal, but it’s very hard financially. Student loans are no longer willing to help support me, I will be a part-time student in the fall (little to no financial aid), and I’ve been barely been able to support myself as of late since my job assigned me on a project with a $2 pay cut from my regular rate.

I also got accepted into an internship program in Japan! As mentioned before, financing the rest of my tuition is hard enough, and now I need to be able to afford my plane ticket, the program fees and living expenses. I am currently studying Japanese for the N3 certification, but we’ll see how that goes (I’m going to stay hopeful!! I still have time!!)

If you want to know more about Ko-fi and the program I’m doing, I made a YT video a month ago. It also briefly explains why I find this internship so important to my professional development. If you have the time, resources, and would like to support me, I would greatly appreciate it! I even have a sticker club reward for monthly supporters, and a portion of those sales goes to Project COVID-19, a fundraising project by a few of my colleagues who are raising money to purchase PPE for health facilities nationwide (US). 

I would like to explain more, but covering the past 4 years is a long time (haha)... and you’re here for the GSNK content! I am sure there will be loads of more opportunities to talk about myself (apologies if I do so...) so I will end it here. 

Thank you for being a follower of horisexual for so long. And if you’re new here, welcome!

I am currently taking summer courses and working (remotely), so I do not know how active I will be, but I will definitely return to fill up the queue a few times a week- if not every day. I have a few asks from before I left/received during hiatus. You can still submit prompts to me via ask and I will try to get to them!

If you want to talk I am also on discord ( JamKats#9424) and twitter @/jamkataclysms (note my twitter is mostly art & games). I also have a ko-fi account where I post GSNK fanart sometimes! https://ko-fi.com/jamkats

I hope you have a great day! As a reward for reaching the end of this long post, here’s a recent redraw of one of the gsnk omakes! (from vol 10)

If you’re in the GSNK server, you’ve probably seen it already, so I guess it’s not that good of an award...The other (the first) redraw I did has been queued so it will go up sometime this week!

I spent all night studying, so I’ll probably go to sleep now <3 thank you again :)

[waitingfortherightpartner]

Things We Don’t Mean

Based on Anonymous Prompt: Reader is Tony's sister but Avengers have no idea and one day while Tony took Pepper to Paris for a weekend, the reader was on the mission and got hurt. She's in love with Steve but he was mat at her for taking a stupid risk and says something that Peggy wouldn't do this and the reader realises that Steve would never love her (but he;s in love with her too) so she doesn't want to see anyone and doesn't want to scary her brother, but the next day FRIDAY calls Tony and he and Steve have argument

A/N: Ahhhhh sorry I’m so terrible at writing consistently.  I just finished with school for the year though, so that should free up sometime.  I’m actually at the airport right now, heading overseas, so I don’t know what type of wifi access I’ll have or what type of time I’ll be able to use to write, but I will definitely write more when I get back (famous last words).  Depending on how productive I can be in these next few hours of my layover, I might be able to queue up some fics for upcoming weeks...?  Anyway, hope y’all like this one.

Tagging @pleasecallmecaptain​ @mattymattymerduck​ @writingbarnes​ @kissofvenom922​ @b-orderline​ @shamvictoria11​ @callingmrsbarnes​ @barnes-and-noble-girl​ @coley0823 @redstarstan @badassbaker @phoebe-21-99@marvelgoateecollection @palaiasaurus64 @melconnor2007

-

The bullet wound doesn’t hurt.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  When you shift or when you try to breathe or when you’re sitting still, the pain shoots through your chest like splinters of glass.

What hurts more is the pointed silence that hangs in the air between you and Steve.

The captain in question is perched gingerly on the chair next to your stretcher, staring straight ahead.  His eyes, normally a soft blue, are hard and flinty.  His jaw is locked, his body radiating tension.

Natasha walks into the med bay, her eyes softening when she sees you.  She walks over, gingerly peeling back the layers of bandages to replace them.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” she says quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” you reply.  “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.  How much longer?”

“Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes,” she answers.  She sits down next to you, her fingers brushing through your wet hair that clings to the damp skin of your head.  Wordlessly, she stands up again and returns with a cool, wet cloth, laying it across your forehead.

“That was reckless.”

You shift your head ever so slightly so that you can see Steve.  These are the first words he's spoken to you since he carried you back onto the Quinjet, and he still refuses to meet your eyes.

“I did what needed to be done,” you reply tersely.

“You disobeyed direct orders,” Steve replies and you can hear the anger rising in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say.  “But if I hadn’t shot that agent, you and Nat would be hurt, or worse.”

“We would have been fine,” Steve answers.  “You gave away your position and put yourself in danger.”

“What good would I have done if I had stayed put?” you bite back.  “You took me as backup and I had your back.  That’s all there is to it.”

“That is not all there is to it,” Steve retorts, standing up and whirling on you.  “You took a stupid risk and put the whole mission in jeopardy because you decided to play the hero.”

“That’s not what this was,” you say, your voice dangerously low.  “You know me and you know that’s not what this was about.  What would you have had me do instead?”

Steve looks away from you, his eyes fixing on something on the table.  You follow his gaze and your heart drops as you catch sight of the object of his focus.

A small, old-fashioned compass, with a picture of Peggy Carter affixed to the lid.

“I see,” you say, quietly so that only Nat can hear you.  You take a deep breath and shift back into your former position, eyes aimed upward at the ceiling.  After a few minutes, your vision starts to blur and you try not to let your voice catch in your throat as you open your mouth to speak.  “Nat, I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s getting a little hard to see.”

“What?” she asks, the alarm in her voice clear.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve turn around.  

“The black edges,” you say.  “There’s dancing spots.  It’s getting darker.”

“(Y/N), I need you to keep talking to me,” Nat says, grabbing your hand.  “What’s happening?”

“I can’t see,” you say, struggling to make sure each word is the one you want.  “Can I close my eyes?” 

“No,” she says firmly.  “No, you need to stay awake.  Tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?” you ask, suddenly conscious of the tightness in your chest and the stabbing pain that seems to increase with every labored breath you take.

“Anything,” she says.

“I’ve loved Steve since the moment I saw him,” you say, your mouth moving of its own accord.

“(Y/N),” Nat says, her tone warning but you muster the energy to shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you say.  “I don’t care.  It doesn’t matter because-”

A sudden wave of pain rips through your body and you stop mid-sentence, your breath hitching in your throat.  

“Call ahead and make sure they’re ready for us,” you hear Nat say.  

“He doesn’t know how,” you manage to say.  “Never learned the system.”  You hear Nat swear in Russian and she lets go of your hand.  

“Keep her awake!” she shouts and you hear her feet running away.  The darkness is starting to set in now, limiting your field of vision even further. You grit your teeth together and wrap your fingers around the edge of the stretched, hoping that the strain in your hand is enough to keep you from slipping unconscious.

Steve’s concerned face slides into your field of vision and you feel his fingers gingerly taking the place of the stretcher as he slips his hand into yours.  You fix your eyes on his blue ones, memorizing the specific patterns of the green flecks that mar his cerulean irises.  

It’s the last thing you see before you slip into darkness.

-

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., do you know what time it is in Paris?” 

“There’s a five-hour difference between the Central European Time Zone and the Eastern Time Zone, so it’s exactly 3:57 a.m. for you, boss.”

“Was that sass?  That sounded sassy.  I’m too tired to tell because it’s 4 a.m. here.”

“I’m aware of that boss, and I wouldn’t wake you if it wasn’t urgent.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s (Y/N).  She got hurt on the mission last night, took a bullet to the chest and had some severe blood loss.”

“Is she okay?  Is she going to make it?”

“She’s stable now.  But she’s refusing any visitors.”

“Call the airport and have them fire up the jet.  What happened?  Why won’t she let anyone in to see her?”

“For that, boss, I think you’d better talk to Captain Rogers.”

“Get him on a video call for me in 30 minutes.  Wheels up in 15.”

-

4:28 am.  Tony stares at the screen in anticipation, tapping his finger impatiently.  He jabs a few buttons and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice floods the cabin.

“Boss, Captain Rogers doesn’t want to speak with you,” she says and Tony rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a request,” Tony replies tersely.  “It’s an order.”

“Well, technically, he doesn’t work for you, so you can’t give him orders,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replies.  “Fortunately, I found you someone who would talk to you.”

Nat’s worried face floods the screen and Tony sighs in relief.

“Where’s Rogers?” he barks.  “I don’t have time for his bullshit.”

“Leave him alone,” Nat replies.  “He’s been sitting outside your sister’s room ever since we got back.  Hasn’t even changed out of his uniform or filed his mission report.”

“What happened?” Tony asks.

“Well, (Y/N) kind of told Steve that she loved him.”

-

You wake up to the sound of hushed arguing coming from outside your door.  You roll your eyes, immediately able to pick out the two voices that you hear.  Fumbling with the medical tablet attached to your bet, you press a button and the door slides open.

Steve and Tony freeze in place, Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Steve.

“You might have missed the memo, but I kind of got shot a little while ago,” you say drily.  “I’m trying to get some sleep, so if you guys could tone it down, that would be great.”

Both men start to speak, but you press the button again and the door slides shut again.  You take a few moments to bask in the petty glory of your moment before pressing the same button again.

The door slides open and Tony darts in again, pressing a button to close the door behind him.

“I was gonna let you in anyways, stupid,” you say weakly, smiling as Tony steps toward you, pressing his lips against your temple.

“Thank god you’re alright,” he says and you grab his hand, squeezing it.

“I was never in any real danger,” you reply.  “It’s just a flesh wound.”  That forces Tony to crack a smile, but you see the ways his lips barely tremble, the unsteadiness of his hands.

“That’s not what Cap said,” he replies and you roll your eyes.

“Well, Cap has a flair for the dramatics, as you well know,” you toss back.  “He got his start doing USO tours and fake-punching Adolf Hitler in the face.”  Tony laughs again, and you begin to see the tension seeping out of his frame.

“Glad to see the bullet didn’t damage your sense of humor,” he says.  “But I’m serious.”

“Ask Nat,” you insist.  “I was just doing my job.”

“I know you were,” Tony says, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair off of your face.  

“Good,” you say.  “Did you tell Steve he should apologize for being a poophead?”

“No, I didn’t,” Tony says.  “Because this is not kindergarten.  Tell him yourself.”

“Okay,” you say.  You press the button and the door slides open.  You half expect Steve to be gone, but he’s standing outside, eyes fixed on the ground.  His gaze flies up to meet you and you almost don’t have the heart to say anything.  “Tony said that I should tell you to apologize for being a poophead.”

You press the button and the door flies closed again.  You grin up at Tony, who’s shaking his head as he tries not to chuckle.

“I see we’ve graduated to middle school level hijinks,” Tony says.

“Has he been there this whole time?” you ask and Tony nods.  “I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”  Your brother nods again.  “Can I take a nap before I talk to him?”  Tony shrugs.  “Are you done talking to me?”

At this, Tony grins, leaning down to plant another kiss on your forehead.

“I just think you probably have some things you have to get off your chest,” Tony says.  “Steve sure does.  Poor guy tried to start an impromptu therapy session with me the moment I arrived.”

“Don’t go too far?” you ask and Tony scoffs.

“You really think I would leave?” he says and you shake your head.

“I just need you close by to knock some sense into him if need be,” you say.  “Normally, I’d do it myself, but I’m temporarily out of commission.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says.  He walks to the door and presses the button, waiting as the door slides open.  He grips Steve by the shoulder, clapping him on the back before walking off down the hallway.  

Steve looks at you, hesitant.  You nod, and he steps into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

“How are you feeling?” he says, his voice gravelly from disuse.  

“I’ve been better,” you reply.  “You?”

“I’m not the one with a bullet in my chest,” he says.

“Me neither,” you toss back.  “I’m pretty sure the surgeons pulled it out.”

“(Y/N),” he starts and you sigh.

“Are you really here for lecture 2.0?” you say.  “Because that’s not why I let you in.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve says.  “I’m sorry for overreacting.  You’re an incredibly capable agent and I trust your judgement.  If you say that taking that bullet was the only way to get the mission done, I believe you.”

“Thank you,” you say.  “That means a lot, actually.”

“However-”

“Of course there’s a however.”

“However,” Steve continues, and you catch the ghost of a smile on his face.  “The reason I flew of the handle is that you scared the living shit out of me.”

“Language!”  Tony’s voice floods the room, making you jump an inch up off the bed.  “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Mind your own business!” you shout, not really meaning it.  “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off as the door behind him opens, one of the nurses entering the room.

“I need to change the dressing on your stitches,” he says.  “And I’m sorry, uh, Captain America, but you need to leave.  She needs sleep.”

“Give me two minutes?” Steve pleads, and you can’t help but think that if you were the nurse, you’d give him all the damn time in the world.

“You have until I’m done,” the nurse says and Steve nods.

“Well,” he says, pausing as he stares off into space.  “I had a long speech prepared.”

"Give me the hits,” you say.  “Bullet points.”

“Um, point one,” he stammers.  “Nat said that you possibly interpreted me looking at the picture of Peggy as some sort of comparison or judgement between the two of you.  Not true.”

“Okay,” you say, not sure where he’s headed.

“Point two,” he continues.  “I kind of just look at the compass when I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay,” you say again.

“And three,” he says, taking a deep breath.  “I love you.”

It feels like time stops, potentially because your nurse freezes halfway through rewrapping the gauze covering your wound.

“You do?” is the only thing you can manage to get your mouth to say.

“Yeah,” Steve says, a small grin sliding into place on his lips.

“Alright, I hate to break this up, but time’s up,” your nurse says and you have to fight the urge not to groan out loud.  

“Can he just-”

“Nope,” the nurse says, entirely unsympathetic.  “I’ve got strict orders to get you some rest.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says.  “Good night, (Y/N).”  He smiles at you and backs out of the room, leaving you to try and process what just happened.  The nurse says goodnight, closing the door behind him.

Five seconds later, the ceiling grate pops open with a bang.  You jump and reach for the scissors lying on the table next to you, wielding them like a weapon.  

You breathe a sigh of relief as you see Steve, rather than a Hydra agent, slide down into the room.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, setting the scissors down.

“You didn’t think I would just leave after that, did you?” Steve says, a lopsided smile gracing his lips that makes you feel lightheaded.  

“I mean, yeah, I kind of did,” you reply.  “I figured you were more of by-the-book, rules guy.”

“I used to fight people twice my size in alleyways,” Steve tosses back and you smirk.

“I think you mean you used to get beat up by people twice your size in alleyways,” you grin and Steve shakes his head.

“Can I kiss you now?” Steve asks.

“Yes please,” you say and he leans down, pressing his lips against yours.  Your lips move in answer as you finally do what you’ve dreamed about for months.  

You jump apart at the sound of the door sliding open, only to see none other than your nurse, eyes glued to a tablet.

“Your vitals are reading with an elevated heart rate, are you-”  He looks up and sees Steve, whose hand is still threaded through your hair.  “Oh.”

[schwii]

Let's get nerdy.

I know. I said I was starting a writing practice and promptly fell off that wagon. TBH, i should have looked at my upcoming calendar and realized that I was going to be doing too much running around traveling to actually hold myself to a new habit, but lesson learned!

When not driving all over the northeast coast, I’ve been tucking into series after series of anime on Crunchyroll, and I have a lot of random thoughts about them all. Let’s dive in! (Spoilers ahead for shows listed in tags. Proceed at your own risk.)

Boruto: Naruto Next Generations I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it here, but I’ve been a huge fan of Naruto for the past decade, so obviously I feel compelled to watch the new series following his son, Boruto. TBH, the show has been pretty damn boring so far. It’s not terrible, but it’s slow moving and often feels super filler-y (I mean, it IS all filler so far, but sometimes it has its moments). BUT! A glimmer of hope arrived at the end of the last episode: SASUKE. And the new closing credits sequence featuring the Uchiha family and all their drama from the Naruto Gaiden manga had me drowning in my OTP feels. Next week’s preview looks like more filler, but so did last week’s and I was pleasantly surprised by the return of my favorite Uchiha. So I’m holding onto some hope and looking forward to finally seeing some canon arcs, especially one that focuses on my favorite characters. Made me wonder if Studio Pierrot is aware that July is SasuSaku month; fuel the fanfic flames! I’m terrible at embedded video, but here’s the YouTube link for the new ending if you’re so inclined to watch it: https://youtu.be/G918NjiiIss

Free! Iwatobi Swim Club This is a short series of only two seasons with about 14 episodes each, but I devoured it. I’m never going to rank it among my must watch recommendation list, but it did what I usually am looking for an anime to do which is be earnest and sincere. The characters are oh so pretty (and constantly taking their clothes off to go swimming!) and the relationships between them are dynamic and engaging. The animation itself is not my favorite style but there are some great moments, especially in the swimming sequences. The sense of humor the show employs is at once endearing and genuine. I think the series ended where it should have; while I’m curious about the futures of the characters, I’m happy with the arc that played out and was glad to find another sports anime to enjoy (Yuri on Ice! was my first, and that’s a high bar to clear!).

Shokugeki no Soma I first watched this series about a month or so ago and it has quickly become my go-to show. It is simultaneously ridiculous and touching, which is one of my fave combinations, and I can’t wait for season 3 this coming fall. HOWEVER, I have discovered a new wrinkle in my otherwise pure enjoyment of the exploits of Yukihira Soma: watching a show about cooking and eating incredible delicious food is absolute torture when you’re trying to make nutrition changes irl. So, sadly, I have to relegate the trials and tribulations of the students of Totsuki to bedtime only viewing until I adjust to my new eating habits. I also am itching to start a new series, Restaurant to Another World, but have a feeling it will cause similar strife for me so I’m letting it wait.

Not that I don’t have plenty of shows in my queue to watch! I just haven’t decided what my new jam will be yet. I tried Iazetta the Last Witch and you’d think a WWII alternative history would totally suck me in, but as it turns out, not so much. There are several immediate runners up though, so I’ll have more series to blather on about soon enough.

Hope whoever is reading this enjoyed my rambling thoughts on the things I’ve been watching, and if not please keep it to your damn self. 🙃