#to passing someone else's work as his own!!!

[emiko-matsui]

Okay, I just need to get something out of the way when it comes to the Kipperlilly conversation nobody's brought up yet, which I think is insane. Almost all of The Bad Kids would be more powerful if they didn't have their tragedy porn tragic backstories.

First of all, this doesn't apply to Fig and Gorgug because if Fig wasn't Gorthalax's child she would be a lot like Kipperlilly and not the ruler of hell. I wouldn't say Gorgug has a tragic backstory, he's got a pretty normal growing up experience with ups and downs.

Let's start with her #1 nemesis, Riz Gukgak. She's so jealous that his dad was murdered and that gives him an advantage in the adventuring life. To be crude, no, it doesn't. What would give Riz an advantage in the adventuring life would be living with someone who has a direct contact to all the government's inner workings and conspiracies. Now that would be an advantage. That gives you connections and clues that no one else can get. This is not what happened. What happened was eating cereal with water for breakfast, what happened was not getting an opportunity at college, what happened was a 9 year old who stopped sleeping, what happened was not your secret agent dad giving you an advantage in the school conspiracy because he's dead. Otherwise he fucking would've.

And now Kipperlilly's new #1 nemesis, Kristen Applebees. She was ostracised from her religion for her sexuality, she achieved sainthood, and raised a dead god back to life. None of this would've happened if she hadn't been raised in The Harvestmen. No, it wouldn't, but what would have happened if Kristen had been straight? Disgusting thought, yes, I know, but let's talk about it. A Kristen who never left Helio behind would have so many more fucking advantages than the one with Cassandra has. If she had followed her birthright she would be the only chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods. Sol is the biggest god in Spyre and Helio is his son. Helio does not have a chosen one anymore because Kristen left. It's not a title that's just given out, it could only have been Kristen. You know what's an advantage? Being the chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods, being a god's spoken favourite, and deified by all of that god's followers. Now that would be an unfair advantage. You know what's not an advantage? Being homeless at 14 and being at the mercy of your ex-girlfriend's uncle for housing, dying and having absolutely no one there for you so you're only option to survive is to trust your own abilities enough to raise yourself from the dead, and failing school because of biased teachers.

And what of Adaine Abernant? The Elven Oracle? Her tragedy porn tragic backstory is surviving an abusive home. Now I just have to imagine that Adaine would have it a lot easier than most students, an incredible amount of unfair advantages, if her old money parents paid for every wizard whim she wanted, kept her diplomatic immunity so she could do literally anything she wanted without consequences, and gave her a direct contact into the heart of the Fallinell government. Now that is what I would call an insane amount of unfair advantage. I would be furious at this rich kid who's never had to work for anything myself. This is not even close to the case. She's barely passing classes because she can't afford the material you're required, she goes to the guidance counsellor for panic attacks, and she's being hunted by her home government. I'd say that's about every single thing in her life working against her having it easy.

Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He's complicated since he is very privileged already. He gets 5000 gold a month just for existing. He's the captain of the Owlbears because he killed the previous one. He lives alone in a mansion. Yeah, that's pretty privileged. His parents are also so severely fucked up that if they hadn't been filthy rich they would've been absolutely horrible for him. If he had parents who unconditionally supported him and stayed with him through everything, then we could talk about perhaps the most powerful person in Elmville. In Solace possibly. The most feared pirate in history who single-handedly dismantled a monarchy and fights against armies on his own is at your beck and call, does whatever you ask him to, and loves you more than anything. The greatest swordswoman in the world, that bested the most feared pirate in the world, the daughter of one of the most influential elven families and immortal will do anything you ask her, loves you to bits, and would cheat any rules for you. To have that would just be insane. You can argue that Fabian already has unfair advantages because of his social status and inheritance. This is true, but this is also true within his own adventuring party. Now his parents aren't helping him with anything and are determined that he reach his legendary status on his own. Otherwise talk about a fucking advantage.

All this to say is that if Kipperlilly got all of The Bad Kids tragedy porn like she wanted she wouldn't have been better, but she would've made them better. There is an adventuring party out there in the multiverse that has a secret agent at their disposal, the only chosen one of a Sol religion, Bill Seacaster and Hallariel Lomenelda unprompted in their corner, and a seer with unending resources and diplomatic immunity. These would've been people you start a platform about adventuring not being fair for everyone because of. The people you went against was a homeless kid, a kid with an anxiety disorder, a trust fund kid, and someone with PTSD.

I've seen your posts about Kipperlilly being wrong for her validation, but right in the fact that The Bad Kids have been given larger plots and mysteries because of their families and circumstances and I don’t want to fucking see another one. When you make that I want you to think about the adventuring party they would've been without their backstories. The insanely powerful and privileged adventuring party that almost happened. Their life got made worse, not easier because their life could have been so fucking easy. Kipperlilly can take all the tragedy porn she wants and then maybe realise that that's not what makes the adventurer. That the reason she's mad at The Bad Kids is the only reason she can even tangentially compete with them.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

a waste of a beautiful dress - n. hischier

summary: an unhappy valentine's day date doesn't always end up with you watching lord of the rings alone with a glass of wine...at least, not when a certain captain can help it

warnings: talks of sex/bad date, mention of alcohol consumption, descriptions of the above facial injury, swearing, cutesy 2.1k thing

a/n: this is a short imagine-thing i wrote on valentine's day that i kind of forgot about (i was gonna write more but i just couldn't think of what to do, so if the ending's weird, that's why!) and i didn't want to not publish this for you guys, so...enjoy!

“Is everything okay?”

You blinked, the elevator coming back to focus around you, the walls distorting the reflection of someone that, rather against your will, you’d found growing increasingly familiar with each week. The bottle of wine in your grasp felt suddenly heavier under his careful scrutiny, and you felt your fist tighten around it, almost protectively.

You could only imagine what you looked like: nice clothes – maybe a little too  nice for an evening stroll or a walk around the block, and a tarnished, almost numb expression on your face, even despite the conflicted tornado swirling inside your mind. There was no doubt he’d deciphered your distracted look and the dejection written so plainly on your face. Yet, though you knew what he saw, you refused to feel pity for yourself.

You inhaled, plastering a tight smile on your face as you looked towards him, his beloved beanie on his head and a backpack on his shoulders. His head was dipped a little, a slight furrow between his brows, ever telling of his caring tendencies, and you suddenly felt a little better, even despite the previous events.

“I’m fine.” You tried, slyly moving the bottle further out of his sight. It didn’t work: his eyes seemed to catch the slight motion before meeting yours, a look of disbelief on his face, “You?” You asked, desperate to turn his attention away from you.

Nico Hischier wasn’t someone you’d have found yourself chatting to casually mere months ago, at least not past the usual pleasantries. Though, it seemed the mutual friends and the many parties had oiled that creaking joint somewhere along the way, and – hesitantly – you were friends to some degree. So much so that every so often the two of you may find yourselves in the other’s apartment with a mug of coffee or a glass of wine in hand with something playing on the TV.

Of course, no one else knew about that.

He sighed, leaning back against the mirror opposite you. There was a cut under his eye you hadn’t seen immediately, but when he leant back the light seemed to catch the green skin and the scratch. He seemed to notice your concerned wince before you could point it out, his hand flying up to lightly press underneath it, “It’s fine, I just caught a puck yesterday.”

Before he could say anything else, and you knew he would because he started to frown again, you interrupted, a slight laugh of mirth passing your lips, “No big deal.”

He froze a little, but still a smile replaced the apprehension as he shook his head, "Better my cheek than my teeth.” 

“That’s true.” You grinned in agreement, attention immediately turning to the opening doors as they dinged, your floor appearing before you.

“After you.” Nico gestured, following closely behind as you both wandered to the end of the hall, your eyes glued to the patterned tiles beneath your feet, before a thought suddenly struck you, and with some urgency.

“Do you have Arnica?” You turned to Nico, your hand hovering under your own eye when he blinked in confusion, shaking his head, “For your eye? It helps with pain and bruising.”

“Uh…”

“Unless you want to keep your battle scar?” You teased lightly, unzipping your bag to pull out your keys, only to notice his still-close presence by your shoulder, even despite being outside your door.

You looked up, only to be met with a sheepish smile, one that you knew meant you’d caught him, but he shrugged, “The Arnica seems sensible.”

“Sensible?” You pushed your key through the door, turning the lock.

“It’s not much of a battle scar when a rubber disc wins.” He rationalised, walking through your doorway when you held it open for him and immediately gravitating towards the cat bed towards the far end of your apartment.

By the time you’d locked the door, shed your coat and placed your bag and the wine on the counter, he’d returned, still in his coat, beanie and backpack with a fond look on his face, your cat snuggled in his arms with no complaints of the attention except a rumbling, contented purr.

His eyes seemed to drop to your dress, and widen a little, and you knew there was absolutely no dodging his questions, not when he seemed to grow a little wary and dart his gaze to the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Did you have any Valentine’s plans today?” he asked lightly, briefly turning his attention back to the cat in his arms, most likely to give you a moment to steel yourself.

You hesitated, adjusting the straps on your dress. Nico was lovely, you knew that; he’d never once said or done anything to make you feel uncomfortable, but there was something more serious and vulnerable as to what you were about to say – lying wasn’t really in the cards, mostly because you knew he knew whatever had happened already hadn’t particularly ended well.

He’d caught you on the verge of tears in an elevator by yourself, clutching a bottle of wine, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t do that on Valentine’s day unless something had gone wrong.

“I did.” You breathed, quickly wiping down the counter surface and avoiding looking at him, trying to fight the embarrassment clawing its way up your throat, threatening to spill colour onto your cheeks.

You had nothing to be embarrassed about whatsoever.

He said nothing, just watched you carefully, keeping his distance. If you didn’t want to talk about it, you knew he wouldn’t even press the subject.

“I had a date earlier–” out of the corner of your eye, you saw his gaze cut to the clock on the wall: half-past six. “It didn’t go well.”

He nodded, treading carefully with his words, “How come?”

“He made some comments that I couldn’t really ignore, and when I asked him about it, y’know, to just clarify some things, he kicked off, I corrected him, he sulked, and then left halfway through when I went to the toilet.” You said in one breath, feeling your skin prickle with the reminder of the entire ordeal, scrubbing at a spot on the counter – sometimes grease just didn't budge.

There was the dull thud of paws against your floor, and you looked up to see Nico standing at the opposite side of the counter, an unreadable expression on his face. His brows were pulled together, but there was no telltale crease; his mouth was parted, but in a way that suggested he was a bit more hesitant at finding out what you had to say than a mortified scowl.

“What did he say?” His tone of voice was unwavering, but the slight edge to it sent your heart pounding a little harder nonetheless.

He had a sister, he was probably thinking of all the worst possible scenarios.

You felt your voice get caught in your throat, and you found yourself wishing you’d never even been this honest with him in the first place, because you felt…embarrassed, almost, to admit it fully, “He made a ‘my place or yours after this’ comment and I told him I didn’t want to sleep with him, so he left the first chance he got.” You said quietly, still making yourself busy with tidying the kitchen.

You inhaled deeply, spinning on your heel and fiddling with some of the utensils before you could gain the courage to even look in his direction. You didn’t want to see him pity you.

Except, when you did look up, you saw none of the pity you’d been expecting. In fact, his mouth was pressed firmly shut, and when he caught you looking at him, he – very insistently – muttered, “Well, he’s a fucking dick.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch up in some hint of a smile, “Thanks.”

Then, almost like it did in the elevator, the light seemed to catch the shiner under his eye, reminding you of the very reason he’d walked through your threshold in the first place, and you began to wander through the hallway, “I’ll go get the Arnica.”

He nodded in response, shucking his coat and draping it across the back of one of the stools, before bending down to stroke the cat nuzzling at his shins. You rounded the corner into your bathroom, rifling through the cupboard for the tube of cream, before making your way back into the living area, the tube outstretched in your hand.

He took it from you gently, leaning his elbows across the countertop as he read the information on the back of it silently.

“What about you?” You asked, and he looked up, “Any Valentine’s Day plans?”

He blinked, sighing, “I laid in bed for an hour longer than usual.” He said simply, “Then I went to a late morning skate, came home, watched some TV, went to the gym, and now I’m here. So, no, not really.” He inhaled, and you felt yourself grow a little uneasy when he started poking the swelling under his eye, looking into his phone to apply the cream, “You got any more plans?”

Your eyes darted to the bottle of wine, “I was gonna drink wine and watch Lord of the Rings.”

He breathed a startled laugh, “Sounds like a good plan.”

“It is.” You agreed, pausing to consider something, before taking a breath, “Do you wanna join me?”

It wasn’t something you’d never done with each other before; in fact, the two of you seemed to get along better without a cacophony of people interrupting (though that wasn’t much of a surprise), however there was something more delicate and meaningful in the knowledge of the day: Valentine’s Day was undoubtedly something that was weighing on both your minds. It was impossible not to – the posts on social media, the love hearts plastered in shop windows and the flowers everywhere didn’t let you forget it.

It just felt different, somehow.

Nico’s fingers faltered under his eye, and he looked up, brown eyes a little wider than usual, with his mouth parted in surprise. Evidently, he’d been thinking along similar lines to you, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about romance and love and whatnot: it was also just another day.

He blinked, eyes searching your face for regret in asking, or for some sign that he should turn down your offer, no matter how tantalising it was.

“It’s not gonna drink itself.” You joked lamely, watching as he slowly nodded, ducking his head down to mask the smile you knew was now on his face.

“Are you sure?” He mumbled, placing his phone on the counter and screwing the top back onto the cream. His eye was now shining a little, but it gave you inexplicable comfort to know that it was at least taken care of temporarily.

Even looking at it seemed to send a dull ache thrumming across your cheekbone.

“I’m sure.” 

Then: “Did you eat on that date?” He asked, raising a brow.

“No.”

He frowned, but showed nothing to say he was particularly shocked by that answer, and stood up from the stool very quickly – quick enough to startled the cat, and quick enough to have to catch the stool from falling over in his haste, “Do you maybe want to get something to eat, first? I know a good place a couple of blocks away.”

You stuttered, not entirely expecting such a spontaneous proposal, “Sure, I just—I should change first, though.”

His eyes dragged down your figure, and for the first time ever, you found yourself trying to regain control of the sudden blush that threatened to stain your cheeks, before he tutted, met your eyes, smiled and shook his head, dimples as clear as they’d ever been. There was something bright in his eye, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume there was some mischief lingering there – as though he knew exactly what you were refraining from doing under his gaze.

“Personally,” he started off slowly, “I think it’d be a waste of a beautiful dress.”

You sucked the inside of your cheek, looking down at your dress. It was beautiful, though arguably it had already been wasted on the day considering the hellish date experience, but maybe eating out with Nico would change that? 

“In that case…” You trailed off, grabbing your coat and slipping your shoes back on, “But–” You whirled around, Nico’s hand going suspiciously fast to cover his mouth, though the crinkles by his eyes certainly told you everything you needed to know, and arched an accusing brow in his direction, “I’m changing when we get back.”

“Fine by me.” He held up his hands in surrender, mouth pressed tightly together to prevent himself from laughing, and you rolled your eyes at his innocent act, but said nothing.

[nyrasproblm]

Ignorance

part 1/?

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warning: angst, rejection, mention of the Apocalypse (don't tell me), mention of deaths.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. Your tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: your house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

"I really like you."

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If you give me a chance to–"

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

"Right. I'm sorry." you turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

[thestarkinternship]

10 Minutes

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: Bucky is a little desperate for some alone time during one of Stark's parties, and ten minutes is all he needs.

Word Count: 2.2k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: Profanity, drinking, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), slight exhibitionism (bathroom at a party), MINORS DNI!

A/N: I kinda took a break from writing because I had a lot of unfinished fics, but I'm slowly starting to get back into it. And thank you for 300 followers on here! I can't believe there's that many people of you who actually like my writing :)

Masterlist

-

“That’s gotta be what, your sixth drink?” You giggled, watching as Bucky polished off another glass, “don’t you wanna slow it down a little?”

With a smirk, he set the empty crystal on the countertop. “Worried I’ll have too much and do something to embarrass you, sweetheart?”

“You could never embarrass me, James,” you rolled your eyes, “and you also can’t get drunk.”

“S’not gonna stop me from trying,” he grinned, “now come here..”

Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you into his side before you could give an answer. Not that you minded – you didn’t need an excuse to be as close to him as possible. You nestled your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the heavy aftershave that he wore. It was your favourite scent. The musk from it mixed with the spice of the whiskey on his breath as it fanned across your cheeks. It was intoxication in the best way possible, superseding the several glasses of liquor that you’d consumed yourself.

“There is something else, if you think you can handle it.”

In your own little bubble, it was easy to forget that the two of you weren’t alone. Breaking your gaze away from Bucky, you saw one of your teammates making his way over to you with a delicately engraved bottle in his large hand.

“Hi Thor,” you smiled politely, “what is that?”

He held the bottle up proudly. “Asgardian liquor, the finest brewed there. It puts everything here on Midgard to shame.”

“I bet.” You chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” Bucky grinned, stepping away from you momentarily to join Thor and some of the others in a round.

You folded your arms across your chest as you shook your head. The super soldier serum might stop his body from reacting to alcohol in the typical way, but it did have a particular effect on Bucky. You couldn’t help but notice how he always seemed to get that little bit more handsy with you. Maybe it was a placebo effect, or maybe that was just an excuse to keep you close to his wandering hands.

Either way, barely twenty minutes had passed before your observation was proven true.

Your shoulder leaned against the back wall as you watched Steve and Tony play pool when Bucky joined you.

“Where’ve you been?” he murmured, “I was looking for you.”

His metal hand drifted up your side, tracing the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath to graze your hip. The metal raised goosebumps on your warm skin, and you shivered further back into his arms.

“Bucky, stop… what if someone sees?” You whispered.

Bucky didn’t ease up, rubbing soft circles on your hip as he drew you in closer. “It’s okay, nobody’s looking at us.”

You glanced around. The loud music masked your hushed whispers, and the addition of Thor’s Asgardian liquor had worked wonders on the team of superheroes. With all of their defences down, no one had noticed the way the pair of you had sidled off to the side.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” You whispered, reaching for his hand and stopping it in its tracks.

“Let’s get out of here, just for a little bit,” he leaned in, pressing his lips to your jaw. The gentle ghost of his breathy murmurs in your ear sent your heart racing, “ten minutes, that’s all I need.”

“Are you really suggesting that we hook up in the middle of the party?” Your head tilted in a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Why not?” Bucky pouted. His lips looked so damn kissable when he did that. The thought of giving in, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth in a frantic need to satisfy the urge that you were starting to feel right now was starting to not seem like such a bad idea.

“Because…” Your voice trailed off in search of a compelling reason. Even the slightly hint of doubt would signal a dead giveaway to Bucky that you were more than willing to give in. And the worst part of it was the stupid grin on his face that told you he knew this too.

“Because?” He taunted, his smirk growing wider.

“Because…” The agitation in your voice grew as you struggled.

Bucky chuckled darkly, letting his right hand meet his other at your waist. He turned you slightly, until your back was against his chest. Grip tightening, he pulled your hips back into his. Pressed flush against him, you became all too aware of the way his tight, muscular body felt against yours. And that wasn’t the only thing.

“Bucky, are you-“

“Painfully.” He whispered, leaving another soft kiss just below your ear. Your head fell back to rest against his shoulder. Lips parting, a quiet whimper escaped from them. Bucky  tucked a curl behind your ear to lean in better, “What was that that I just heard, hm? You can resist all you like, doll. But your body’s betraying you.”

He was right of course, but you bit your bottom lip anyway in an attempt to prevent yourself from letting another sound slip. The more you tried to hide your growing desires, the more Bucky persisted. His hand slid down your hip to the hem of your skirt. He played with the material, gently grazing his fingers across the back of your thigh that was now exposed to him. Instinctively, your legs clenched as he dared to venture higher.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “Bite your lip all you want. But what are you gonna do when you start to soak through your underwear and all over that pretty outfit of yours?”

Your face burned red as your gaze immediately fell downwards. Searching the front of your dress as discreetly as you could, your shoulders relaxed when you found that you hadn’t. But your reaction alone was enough to let Bucky know that you considered it a real possibility.

“Did I have you worried there for a second?” he mocked, “You know I’m right. Come on… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Yes ma’am.” He smirked, gripping your hand and pulling you out of the room.

It was a wonder that you made it to the bathroom at all. His hands were everywhere. Running through your hair, on your waist, cupping your cheek. But yours were the same, only pulling away just long enough to fumble with the bathroom door. It pushed open, and you both crashed through.

With a hand on his chest, you pushed him back to lean on the door. His eyes widened in at your sudden control, but who was he to stop you? Ripping the hand towel down off the rail by the sink, he dropped it to the floor to cushion you as you sank to your knees in front of him. You toyed with the zipper of his jeans, slowly pulling them and his boxers down in one as you pressed soft kisses to each inch of his bare skin that you exposed.

Bucky let out a tormented groan from the back of his throat as your tongue teased up to the head of his cock. He looked down at you and nearly buckled at the sight. Your hand gripping his thigh, hair messy and lipstick smudged. He watched your wet lips twist into a soft smirk that was so close to wrapping around him.

“When you said painfully, I had no idea this is what I’d done to you.” You cooed, innocently sliding your palm up and down his length.

Bucky hissed at the sensation and reached out to tilt your face up to look at him. His fingers were firm on your cheeks. “We’re down to nine minutes. You gonna keep talking with that sweet mouth, doll, or do you want to put it to good use?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. His tip grazed the back of your throat in one smooth motion. But you didn’t let it rest. You moved your head back and forth, letting your tongue trace over every vein. Bucky’s hand slid up from your jaw to cup your cheek, pulling you further around him as he met your movements with shallow thrusts. His view of you faded as his eyes squeezed shut, revelling in the overwhelming pleasure you were bringing him. The two of you might’ve set a time limit on this brief rendezvous but fuck he could let you go on like this forever.

Head falling back against the door with a soft thud, he growled. The animalistic sound ripped through his gritted teeth as he tugged your head back and off him. Pre cum lingered on your lips as you licked them clean.

Reaching for your hands he helped you to your feet and wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He walked you backwards until your bumped into the sink. Reaching for your thighs, he lifted you up to rest on the countertop. Your skirt slipped and bunched up around your waist as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He leaned in, nudging himself between your legs. Gentle whines slipped out from your trembling lips as he brushed over your wetness.

“Bucky…” You begged softly.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured, sliding your underwear over to one side, “seven minutes.”

Bucky pushed his hips forward to meet yours, burying himself completely in you. His head dropped to the crook of your shoulder and his lips met your neck. Your arms curled around his broad back, scrunching up the material of his shirt as you clung desperately to him. Soft grunts from him reverberated up into your ear as he pulled out of you only to get sucked right back in by your tight cunt. With one hand on your hip and the other on the edge of the sink, he kept you in position to take it all. Every stroke inside of you had you clenching down around him. His knuckles turned white as his fingertips pressed harder into your skin with each sharp thrust.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you with all our friends in the next room,” he muttered between delicate nips at the skin just below your ear, “and you had the nerve to act like you didn’t want this just as much as I did.”

Your hands moved up through his hair and down to the sides of his face as you leaned in, lips met his in a needy fashion. The kiss that followed was all-consuming, swallowing any quiet moans that might give the pair of you away. But shallow breaths slipped out here and there as Bucky rolled his tongue over yours in passionate frenzy.

He pulled on your hip until your body slipped closer to the edge of the sink, and you let out a small gasp. As Bucky’s lips parted from yours, he smirked at the fucked-out haze that glazed over your eyes as his cock rutted up deeper inside of you. As he quickened the twitch of his hips, your thighs tightened around his waist.

“Keep that up, and I won’t be able to pull out, doll.” He grunted softly.

Your brows furrowed as your head leaned back in a wave of pleasure. You weren’t listening to a damn word he was saying right now. Bucky’s hand left your hip briefly to tilt your head back to him.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up and fuck it back into you hard enough that it doesn’t leak out for everyone to see?”

Too out of it to verbally respond, your thighs gave him a light squeeze and answered for you. Bucky’s hand let go of your face and reaffirmed its position on your hip as he then set a ruthless pace. Your head slipped forwards to rest on his shoulder. Burying your face in the crook of his collarbone, your moans vibrated against his throat, driving him crazy. You let your body go limp in his hands as he worked to bring you both a release that the pair of you desperately craved.

Two more thrusts was all it took to bring you both over that delicious edge. His metal hand nearly snapped a porcelain chunk out of the counter with how hard he was gripping it when he came. But you were only the same, with your thighs shaking and breathing heavy. You fluttered around him with every beat of your heart, squeezing every drop of come out of his cock that he had to give you. He lazily rocked his hips a couple more times, coating every inch inside of you.

Bucky’s hands released your body from his tight grip as he gently brushed strand of messy hair out of your face, but he kept himself seated.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t worth it.” He breathed.

Your pink cheeks pinched into a soft smile. “Maybe it was.”

“Maybe, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, not hesitating to lean into your neck.

“What are you doing?” You giggled as you felt his gentle kisses.

“What? I’ve still got one minute left.” He grinned playfully, trailing kisses up your cheek now as well.

“Bucky.” You whined, feeling his cock teasingly plunge deeper inside of you. Your sensitive body could barely handle any more.

“Fine,” he smirked, and slowly eased himself out of you, “but when this party’s over, I’m done holding back.”

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

 For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.”  You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

 You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

 It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.  

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

[spooky-pop]

Hey found your blog and your punk rock broppy au. Got to say love what I see so far and what to know more about it like. What movie does this au take place?

When rock branch and poppy meet again after all these years apart what was their impression on each other?

Was it love at first sight ? If not who fell for who first?

Is creek in this au and did poppy have a crush on him like in the canon? What’s branch thoughts about his siblings? Is branch fully loyal to the rock tribe including twt barb plan?

Does branch get jelly of creek or hickory when their around poppy like he did in canon? That’s all I got for now.

Thank you so much!! I also really appreciate the questions and am so excited to answer them since I've been working more on this AU behind the scenes. There are a lot of details and plot points I just have not figured out yet, so there's a chance some things could still be changed, cut out or just tweaked a tad. I don't mind sharing more about this AU since the comics are already in progress haha

Excuse the text wall, haha!

-This takes place around the Trolls 1 timeline, then maybe a little into Trolls 2. The Bergens are still a danger and Branch still accompanies Poppy to save the Snack Pack. Instead of him finding the will to sing again in Trolls 1, he works on facing his past and traumas with Poppy to finally find his happiness.

-When Branch left pop village he was probably around the age of 9 or 10, he and Poppy definitely had some kind of a bond as children but as years passed, they both tried to focus on their own lives by trying to move on and forget about what they lost/left behind. They re-unite in their 20s, and since this AU follows RomCom tropes, they have a similar vibe to Trolls 1 Broppy. She wants to know more about him, and he is very secretive about it all and keeps his distance. There's a lot of banter between them. Very much begins like they dislike eachother but time will fix that :)

-It was not love at first sight for them, but Branch was the one who fell first, and the hardest. He tried to keep that hidden behind his tough exterior though, because he CERTAINLY didn't want to show that he had fallen for the princess of pop, exactly what he swore he wouldn't do since he was done with pop village. Loving her meant he would definitely have to revisit his past he tried running from, which scared him. But he finds comfort in Poppy that he was not provided in many years.

-Creek is in this AU (not much), and he and Poppy are good friends who do flirt a little, she does have a crush on him. Branch absolutely hates him, and of course, becomes a jealous that someone else is fond of the Princess.

-In this AU, Brozone was still a thing and they still broke up and went different ways. They just never contacted Branch again. Branch is very fueled by his anger and resentment, because essentially, they did abandon him and still never returned when he needed his family. (His brothers COULD return in the future, but at this point in my AU, their whereabouts are unknown)

-When Branch left Pop Village, he sort of became a wanderer until he happened upon the Rock tribe. Nobody really took him in, he just made himself at home and they accepted him. He purposely kept his distance from some trolls and focused on himself. Sort of living his life on autopilot. He is still a pop troll at heart, he wouldn't have felt that Barb's plan was right either. The Rock tribe does have heavy influence on him in his personality and his appearance, but inside he is still the Branch that came from Pop.

-And again, yeah! He absolutely gets jealous still, it's a big part of his character haha.

There is so much lore and other stuff I've planned and thought out, also a lot of points I excluded because I don't want to reveal them yet. But I can't wait to make some mini comics sowing som of these scenes :)

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2

Dustin visits the next day, sitting next to Wayne with the same book he’s had for the past few days. Turning to the page that was dog-eared, reading. Voices and all. Just like Eddie does when he’s practicing for one of those campaigns. Claiming that it’s better to get it down with someone else’s words so he can improvise. So he doesn’t have to memorize some script and can be in the moment. Let his mind do the workings along with the players. 

It’s one of the many parts of Eddie that Wayne sees in this kid. The dramatics, the drive. The snobbiness about certain things that don’t really matter to the rest of the world. But it matters to them, so it matters to the people who care about them too. 

If Eddie were awake, he might yell at the kid for turning the corner of a page instead of using a bookmark. Even though all the books he gets are second-hand and already torn and bent in all sorts of ways. But it’s about keeping the art pristine. The author put their heart and soul into this work, it’s not meant to be sullied. Wayne saw Eddie bend the corner of a page a million times over though, he just likes making a big stink about nothing. Just to get a rise out of people, make them laugh. Wayne can imagine that Eddie liked to make Dustin laugh a lot. 

“Have the doctors said anything new?” Dustin asks after finishing the chapter. 

Wayne shakes his head. “Same old, same old. Don’t worry about it too much though, he wouldn’t want you to.”

“He wouldn’t want a lot of the things that happened over the past week. So he’ll have to deal with it.” After a pause, he asks, “How are you doing?”

That makes Wayne laugh. “You don’t have to go worryin’ about me either. You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re just a man waiting for your kid to wake up. The same way I’m waiting for my friend to wake up. At the end of the day, we’re all still people. That sometimes need a break. So, how are you doing?”

It’s scary how much Wayne sees Eddie in this kid. “It’s hard comin’ here to hear the same thing every day.” That’s all Wayne’s willing to say to a kid. 

Hard is definitely a word most people would use to describe his situation. Difficult, disheartening. Maybe even hopeless. But there’s still some hope in this old heart that keeps Wayne coming back day in and day out. Keeps him moving while only getting a few hours of sleep a day. Cause as soon as the night comes around, it’s right back to the plant. Making the money to pay for the care his boy needs to keep living. To pay for the roof over his own head enough so he’ll live to see it happen. 

Truth is, Wayne’s dying here. From the fatigue. From the endless waiting. From the slowly draining pool of hope. Nothing seems to change. Nothing gets better. Six days in a medically induced coma with no hopes of ever waking up. Wayne’s not dumb enough to think that the chances increase the more days pass without him showing any signs of improvement. 

Part of him says that this is the state Eddie will be in for the rest of his life. Wonders if it’s worth all of this just to keep him alive. If he’s really suffering in there and would be better off resting forever. But then the heart monitor keeps beeping and his brain is still active. Wayne’s boy is still in there, he’ll come back soon. 

“Yeah, I bet that’s hard. I still have hope though, I was there when he came in. He looks a lot better now.”

There’s a knock on the door that keeps Wayne from responding. It’s the Harrington boy, in normal clothes this time. Discharged. 

“Sorry to interrupt but your mom said it’s time to go home.”

Dustin dramatically rolls his eyes. “Which one, my actual mother or you?”

“Your actual mother, but I happen to agree with her. Come on, you got school in the morning.” Harrington crosses his arms, looking like he’s ready to start a standoff. 

But instead of fighting Dustin stands. “Have a good night Mr. Munson. I’ll still try to visit as much as I can even though school’s starting back up again.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll try.”

Harrington ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks out the doorway. Standing there for a beat before turning back to Wayne. “We’ve never officially met, I’m Steve.”

Steve holds out his hand, waiting for Wayne to shake it. Wayne debates whether that’s a good idea or not. Apparently, it takes too long as Steve returns his hand to his side. 

“I wanted to apologize for the scene I made the other day, you didn’t deserve that. I was just so shocked that they actually cuffed him to the bed. Still have him cuffed to the bed.” Steve looks at Eddie with a guilt that Wayne doesn’t understand. Like he’s the reason Eddie’s strapped to the bed. 

Wayne continues to say nothing, not quite sure what would be appropriate. Tell him that it’s ok, that it didn’t bother him. Or thank him for believing that Wayne knew was true. That his boy was innocent. 

There was more to this story than he knew. Something to do with the kid being there and the rich boy standing in the doorway looking like this is all his fault. When Wayne knows the same scars mark Steve just as much as they do Eddie. Steve made sure that everyone knew that. Using it as proof that Steve was there, and that Eddie was innocent. 

Steve was ready to offer himself up as a witness for a man that the town hates. Wayne should be grateful for that, but it doesn’t seem right. They were part of different worlds. Different status, interests. It didn’t make sense for them to be in the same place at all. Yet here they are supposedly having gone through the same vicious attack. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Steve continues when Wayne stays silent. “I’m more than happy to help out. Eddie was kind of a new friend and I hate seeing him like this as much as you do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Wayne snaps. He hates charity, especially from this kid. For some reason he doesn’t really understand why. 

Steve is taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but you did. I know my boy and I know how my boy thinks about people like you. So don’t go ‘round gaining sympathy points from the real people who are suffering.”

“I, I wasn’t,” Steve stammers. “I would never.”

“Steve,” Dustin yells. “Get your ass moving, we’re your ride too.”

Steve sighs. “Coming, Jesus. I’m sorry for offending you. I won’t bother you again.”

Wayne shakes his head when Steve leaves, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe he wasn’t harsh enough. He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure about a lot of things anymore.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs,

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 772: A jersey never seen before!!

Pag 1

1: Those two are accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaaagh

Ooooogh

3: Just now it was the second stage “shironeri”

4: Are you surprised, San-na? Obviously, once we get before the finish line, I'll pull out the sixth stage

5: “Golden yellow”!!

Pag 2 / 3

Who will win the title of fastest!?

The black horse Kiji Kyuui!!

Sohoku's Team SS who's aiming to be Japan's number one!!

Or Hakone Academy's Doubashi!!

Pag 4

2: Woah.... what incredible speed! Those two competing for the lead

You're right

Huh!?

3: It's Hakogaku VS Sohoku, you know, those two have the exact same cards – it's exciting

Of course Sohoku's Kaburagi is fired up for his revenge

Incredible, it's the same as last year

4: Oi, they're still coming!!

Ah?

They're chasing!!

Huh

5: They're chasing!?

What incredible energy!!

The one running in the front is from Sohoku, but there's someone else behind....

That jersey....

Pag 5

1: It's a jersey I've never seen before!! Who's that!!

Pag 6

1: It's not Hakogaku, and it's not Kyufushi either

I've never seen them before, is it their first time participating this year!?

2: On his shoulder

3: it says “Gunma”

4: Yon

Gunma!?

5: Yon

Pag 7

1: Yon

3: He's coming up right behind me!!

4: But I won't let this guy go!!

I thought my part was over, but there's still work left to do!!

5: It's a simple thing

Pag 8

1: I just have to stop his legs from 30seconds to one minute!!

2: If I do that, then those two will have passed the sprint line!!

As long as the race is completely over!!

3: I'll make Issa have his revenge!!

4: This is the guy who that day

5: When we were practicing on Minegayama

6: Fell from the sky

Pag 9

1: On a mountain bike

2: The MTB two-times in a row champion!! Gunma Ryosei's Kiji Kyuui!!

Yon

Pag 10

1: And of course he's riding a road bike today!!

2: Road bikes are nice, you know

They're light, they react quickly, there's less loss of mechanical transmission

3: The thing that's most different from mountain bikes is that the road surface isn't uneven but flat

4: Alright, he's clinging to me!!

From now on it's a race! I'll gain time!! I'll stop him!!

5: And, you know, whenever you want

Freely

Pag 12

1: You can accelerate at your own timing!! Yon!!

Ugh!!

2: He got me!!

What was that just now!! He definitely turned his body like he was going right!!

3: I reacted thinking he was going to attack from the right

4: A “feint”!!

5: And from a slanted stance like that he moved straight forward?

6: The left side was narrow, there was nothing but the ditch cover

Pag 13

1: And this guy jumped forward no matter the situation!!

Dammit!!

Pag 14

1: Immediately after clinging to me from the back!!

2: When road bikes cyclists, after a solo run, approach someone from behind

3: they always take shelter from the wind behind them

4: To rest their legs!! At least for 10-30 seconds

5: That guy did it for less than 3 seconds!!

Higaruaaa

6: Dammit, so there's guys who can have their legs recover in just 3 seconds!?

Pag 15

2: This time I'll cling to him!!

Pag 16

1: Three seconds are enough, aren't they?

3: Mountain bike is a sport where you have to continuously produce high output of energy on your own

4: In comparison, in road race, where you can rest behind someone and use them to get ahead, you only need to put out power for a split seconds

5: Really

6: Road racing is full of excitement and learning! It's really....

Pag 17

1: Fun!! Yon!!

2: He accelerated in the curve!!

Pag 18

2: He's controlling the bike's frame tilting it just at the right angle to not let the pedals....

3: hitting the road!!

4: The “tires”!!

I heard that in MTB the control of the tires is essential!!

Is he applying that to road racing!? Dammit!!

5: But!!

6: I wasn't in the SS team for nothing!!

7: I can do something like that too

Pag 19

2: Ruwa-

3: The pedal hit the road!!

Pag 20

3: Ugh!!

Number 5 lost his balance!

He's losing speed

Ugh!! I'll make Issa have his revenge.....

4: I heard a loud noise, are you okay?

6: Huh

Pag 21

1: Stay safe

2: …. he worried about me.... and then left.... taking his time... so that's... Kiji Kyuui!!

4: Hahaha, San-na!!

Pag 22

1: This is the third stage!!

“Pale yellow”!!

2: You're fast..... aren't you strong?

Really, Orange

3: Honestly, when I first heard two of you were coming up, I was disappointed

“This year too, huh”, I thought

4: But turns out it's an equal one-on-one race!!

Pag 23

1: This is the best, Orange!!

You're the most serious guy!!

Let's do it!! A full throttle battle!!

2: I'll take you on!! But I told you earlier!! You don't know my “golden yellow”, you'll lose!!

3: There are 2km left until the finish line!!

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 9: The Party at the End of the World

It's an early update today because I'm on a train (and might not have time later)! In this one Mike makes some bad decisions, the party goes to a party, and- oh! Someone gets murdered.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

The morning of the carnival feels chaotic and unstructured compared to the week and then some they’d spent on the road. Hop forgoes their training, and instead he and Mrs. Byers head into town bright and early to find whatever empty rooms might be still available to rent for the night – the one and only time they will do so on this journey because they need somewhere safe to store their things while they attend the festivities. Will and Dustin head out with them to get everyone costumes; it’s a masquerade after all.

They plan to rendezvous at the southern gate at lunch time, which gives the rest of them plenty of time to take down camp and do whatever else they please. Now that he has free time Mike isn’t sure what to do with it, though. He tries going back to sleep after the others leave for town, but finds the day too light already and his internal clock disturbed enough that he can’t. Lucas practices with his own sword after breakfast, so for a moment Mike joins in. But he’s not in the mood for sparing, and without Hop there he doesn’t feel compelled to, so when they’re done going through fighting stances and Mike’s arms begin to feel heavy he calls it a day. Lucas doesn’t protest, just quietly continues on his own.

Mike does what he can to help Max and Jonathan take down the tents, then wanders around aimlessly. He ends up slipping between the trees and away from camp, searching for the small creek they had passed on their way there yesterday. After three days of non-stop running through the woods trying to make it in time the clear water is a welcome sight: Mike has reached the point where he is turning into his mother in regards to his personal hygiene. Dry sweat clings to his shirt and his skin, his hair hangs heavy with grease, and there’s no way the sharp, unpleasant smell that had begun to hang over their camp isn’t what his sister had called teen boy stink. Sure, the rest of them had slacked as much as him, but since they have some time off Mike might as well try to get rid of some of the discomfort – the old fashioned way, since Prestidigitation is not a Paladin spell.

The creek isn’t particularly deep, which makes washing his hair difficult, but Mike kneels at the edge of the water, tries not to flinch at how cold it is, and gives it his best. Lathering up his skin is easy, even though the water makes him shiver, but trying to get the soap to foam in his hair is more difficult. Mike gives up when some of the suds run into his eyes, quickly washing off and drying himself with his undershirt. Then he soaks the shirt and tries to scrub out the worst of the sweat. He doubts he’s really successful, but the soap they’d bought in Loch Nora has a fresh, lemon-y tang to it that at least makes his nose feel better.

He only realizes his mistake when he sits, with a bare chest and a wet shirt, in the chilly early spring air. The day is clear and the sun shines onto his little spot in the woods, warming him, but the goosebumps that had broken out while he washed up don’t retreat. He hangs the undershirt over a low bough to dry and pulls on his tunic for some warmth, then sits down against a tree to wait. He hopes the shirt will be at least mostly dry by the time he has to head back to his friends, but he fears it won’t be.

For a long moment the woods, now no longer interrupted by his splashing, settle into a quiet hum around him. Mike feels himself nod off, then jerks awake when the bushes on the other side of the creek part to reveal a deer. It looks like the proverbial deer in the headlights when it spots him sitting a few feet away from the water. For a second the two of them look at each other and when Mike remains still and seated, the animal carefully approaches the creek. Mike hopes the water has washed away his dirt and soap so that drinking from the creek wont make the deer sick, but the animal seems to be happy enough to lap at the small stream, so he guesses it can’t taste too off.

He and the animal share a peaceful moment – and then the underbrush rustles, again, and it shoots off, startled.

A thin, red cloaked figure steps into the little clearing with Mike, one hand raised as if she wants to plead with the deer to stay. But the animal is already gone.

El pulls down her hood. “Sorry.”

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my posts about this fic, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @generalstorecashier @snixx @camel-casing @bylersbear01 @turningsoft @casatoan @maru-chu @mid13s @goldentrunks @bunnybylerfangirl @willbyersenthusiast @letterstomichelangelo @drowninginideas @fluffyfangirl @artsyna @absolutelynotyouidiot @bymarara @unknowmiau @are-you-reddie @elherself134 @longtallglasses @kennahjune @easilyentertained99 @bylerschapter @eli-being-silly @bylerina

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 2: Waylaid

Series:  All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 827

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: sexual innuendo, infidelity

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable.

Every morning started with a protein shake, followed by a five-mile run. He worked out regularly in the gym with the rest of his unit, but on his days off he could be found poolside.

Swimming was good cardio and a nice way to change up his workout routine.

He pulled himself out of the water and headed for his towel.

“Looking good there, Walker.”

He froze, towel in one hand, water still dripping from his body. He’d know that voice anywhere. Struggling for composure, he forced his body to move. He toweled off quickly as he turned toward her. “Hey, Brooks. What are you doing out here in the middle of a workday?”

“Relaxing. I decided I needed a little me time, so I took it.”

His eyebrow arched as he tried to figure out why she was giving him a pass for the use of her maiden name. She usually reminded him promptly and imperiously that her name was Rys now.

As if he could forget that detail.

She held up a glass of iced tea with an inviting smile. “Want some?”

Shivers cascaded down his spine at the teasing lilt in her tone. His mouth went dry as he fought against every instinct that he had not to let his eyes wander over her body. He cleared his throat and glanced away before nodding. “Sure.”

“Well, come on then, sit.” She patted the outdoor chaise lounge next to her.

He sat down gingerly as he checked her out surreptitiously from his peripheral vision.

She was still just as beautiful as she had been all those years ago when he’d walked into that bar in New York. He had made his play for her during the engagement tour.

She had fucked him on a pool table and then gotten engaged to his best friend without so much as a conversation in between.

Riley gave him a scintillating smile as she handed him his own glass. Iced tea was a drink she had brought to the palace with her from America. Not that he was any stranger to it, being half Texan.

All of which begged the question, why did she have two glasses? He glanced around the pool area but saw no one else present. Was she waiting for someone? But if so, why offer the second glass to him?

Pushing his nerves, and his questions aside, he reached for the glass, his fingers brushing against hers, sending an electric jolt sparking through him. He dropped his eyes away from her as he muttered a barely audible, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she purred. “And what do I get in exchange?”

His head snapped up, his eyes frantically searching her face for clues about this new development.

Was she flirting with him?

The thought sent a thrill of excitement racing through him, chased by a wave of pure terror.

His feelings for her had never changed, but her feelings had always been, and remained, a complete mystery to him.

She was never rude to him. She was always polite. Quite often friendly. But never flirty. Not since that night in Paris.

Had that night meant anything to her? Or did she view it as a meaningless fling? He didn’t know, and he’d never asked.

His heart was pounding in his chest like a jackrabbit on Red Bull as he sat the untouched glass on the table next to him and then leaned toward her. “What do you want?”

She leaned forward as well, closing what little distance was left between them. Her head tipped back to peer up at him with a sparkle in her eyes that he had seen once before. His gaze dipped to her lips as her tongue darted out to moisten them, then darted back to her eyes as she whispered, “What if I said…. you?”

 A million questions exploded through his brain. He knew he should ask why, or at least why now. It would be prudent to inquire what exactly she meant by him. His body? His heart? For an hour? Forever?

So many questions tumbled through him, but none of them found their way to the tip of his tongue.

The heat in her eyes gave the most immediate answers he needed. She wanted him, physically, right now.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable and perhaps the most predictable thing about him was his loyalty to Liam Rys. Which made his next move almost unthinkable, but the deepest desire of his heart was being dangled in front of him and he was taking it.

He was afraid any undue conversation might kill the unexpected opportunity that had just inexplicably opened up in front of him. Pushing his emotions deep down inside, something he was an expert at, he returned her seductive smile with one of his own as he stood and offered her his hand. “I’d say, what are we waiting for?”

[the-lark-ascending69]

I didnt love S3 but Steve peaked there. Robin became the final puzzle piece he needed to complete his development - thanks to the actors because the duffers clearly didn't know what to do with him. Steve spent the last three seasons chasing after a girl who would never be his soulmate, and when he accepted that, he tried to find someone else to love instead. He tried flirting with any girl whose attention he could hold for over 60 seconds, except for Robin - setting her apart already, though for the wrong reasons initially. She was originally meant to be Nancy's replacement as Steve's arm candy, it seems, but making her a lesbian at the last moment is really what saves S3 for me, not only because she's my baby, my favorite character and I adore her with my whole heart, but also because... the improvised straightbait turned out to work incredibly well at the time to cement the conclusion of Steve's arc - he was a piece of shit and lost Nancy to someone who was better for her (say what you want about Jonathan, but that's clearly the idea the writers had with him, regardless of the effectiveness of the execution). Steve couldn't get Nancy back, and really, he shouldn't be focusing on romance at all because that's just not what he needs to grow as a person. The people who truly challenge him, push him to be better and motivate him to grow are his platonic bonds - Dustin and Robin. He couldn't "fix" everything with Nancy (meaning that he couldn't go back to before everything changed, as if he hadn't messed up). Nancy may appreciate the change but she won't go back to him. Steve doesn't need to change for love - he needs to change for himself, in order to be a better person, period. And Nancy has no reason to stay and watch him grow, she has her own matters to attend to, and she doesn't have enough space in her life for Steve. So Steve finds new people, somewhere else, away from Nancy, and he grows thanks to them.

Robin being not only just his friend but also being completely and eternally unavailable to him works perfectly here. The audience believed, alongside Steve (and the Duffers lmfao) that what Steve needed was romantic love, but Robin proves him wrong. He gets over his ex-girlfriend and finds a sister instead.

And then Season 4 ruins that, for no reason and to no one's benefit. Steve regresses. The growth is undone, for the purpose of keeping Nancy in that eternal love triangle loop that seemed to have been solved two seasons ago. It's sad and disappointing and I'm hoping they don't revisit that in S5.

What I would've done instead would've been to let Steve finish his arc in S3. S4 Steve has a flat arc now. He learned all he had to learn. He's fine. Now, he's here to teach others what he's learned, and I think it would be very interesting if the person who learned from him the most turned out to be Nancy. Steve basically just discovered the power of friendship, and deep emotional connections and trust and how closeness to others makes you stronger. Gives you a purpose. He learned to love and care for others and now that's his strength. Have him tell her about how much he cares about Robin and Dustin. Show him bonding more with Lucas and Max. Contrast him with Nancy, who is isolated, who just lost another friend after leaving him alone, and is desperately trying to protect Max from Vecna. Maybe she's hesitant to become friends with Robin, or to rely on her and Steve to share the burden, or trust the kids to take care of themselves on some capacity. Nancy has become more and more isolated as Steve grows closee to other people.

Then Steve sacrifices himself in S5 to save either Robin or Dustin or both of them idk I think that would be the best conclusion to his arc. Passing on the torch to one of them. Maybe Robin becomes the new babysitter and protector. Maybe Dustin becomes the new hot boy at Hawkins High idk but I think an ending of this sort would fit. He doesn't even need to actually die, if he somehow survives it still works, just having a sacrifice scene (not played for laughs) would be a perfect way to conclude his growth and move on to inspire others to grow like others have done for him.

[bang-me-bangtan-style]

THE BANGTAN LIST | 02

01 • 02 •

Paring: Reader x Min Yoongi x BTS

Genre: NSFW! Smut, Angst,self destruction!Reader || Stripper!Reader,Unrequited love!Reader,Roomates!BTS

Summary: That one story where you work as a stripper, meet Min Yoongi, fuck him, and cant forget him- but he cant remember you- so you fuck his friends to fuck the pain away.

Disclaimer: This story contains acts of sex,domestic violence!foul language, and self destructive motives. This may be triggering to some, please read at your own risk!

It's been exactly 3 months since you last saw Min Yoongi. Every night was the same. You would wait for him as if he promised to come back.

Every time you got on stage you hoped you would see him sitting in the crowd again. But every night he was absent. He was nowhere to be found. You were searching for no reason. Exhausting yourself over it, obsessing over it, for no reason.

Did you even have reason?

He was a client and you needed to understand that you couldn't have no attachment to him- but for some reason you found yourself attached to someone who fucked you for pay.

Typical.

Maybe, it was best that you wouldn't see him again. You were in way too deep. A one-night stand, from a man, that fucked you so good you just couldn't forget. What had this man even done to you to make you feel so obligated to have emotional attachment to him? Why were you so drawn to him?

Who was Min yoongi? And what had he done to you?

Was this what they called love at first sight? Was that electrical current you felt towards him a connection? Could he feel it too? He had to feel it too right?

You, day by day, kept racking your brain. It causing moments that you went out of your mind and entered space as you spaced out.

You know that feeling when you want something? That feeling after you get it and it just doesn't hit the spot? Unsatisfying? That's what you felt every time you thought about min yoongi. You weren't satisfied. You didn't get enough of him.

No, you hadn't forgot his name. And no, you haven't forgot his face, and you definitely haven't forgot his sex.

You found yourself every night fucking yourself thinking about him. You played all the scenes of your encounter in your head over and over. Especially up until the very last moment when he came and said he loved you. Even though it was all for pretend, the thought of that always seemed to get you going over the edge and Cumming, it was all the very thought of him that sent you.

Y/n," a voice had said but you hadn't even heard him.

Yoongi filled your thoughts. You were way strung out on coke. You were in another world right now.Nobody could tell you nothing.

You cocked your head to the side as his intoxicated face was in front of yours. Lust was evident in his eyes and you felt the invisible pull toward him. That feeling you got every time washing over you.

Hallucinating, seeing yoongi again was the epiphany of self destruction. It always had you so emotional after.

Yoongi smirked-

"Y/N!" You woke up out of your trance, yoongi disappearing like smoke.

You looked up from the couch you were sitting on waiting for your next vip client. Cesar had talked you into doing them again so here you were getting fucked to get paid again. But you wish none of them were fucking you. Only yoongi.

Your blood ran cold at the sight of GD. Aka Kwon Jinyong.

Your blood ran cold.

No, you thought.

"Is there a reason why you aren't answering my texts back?!" he strides over- you siting on the couch smoking a joint.

Your eyes became wide as he got closer.

You dropped the joint on the couch and scrambled to pick it up before it burnt a hole in the leather,It dropping to the floor.

"Fuck," you hissed as you tried to pick it up from the floor. it landed next to your platforms. So, you decided to step on it with them, your relaxation time ruined by the monster in front of you.

You literally have ignored him for three months. You didn't realize the time passing as your mind was somewhere else.

"I've been busy," you said not looking at him- not really wanting to. No, not after that last event with him.

GD was In all black looking like the gang-leader he was-is. He was glaring down at you you feeling the anger radiating of him.

"You were busy?" he spat, "I highly doubt that," he said glaring down at you.

You finally looked up at him meeting his angry form, "I was actually," you said pushing it further.

"Hmm," he scoffed throwing his head to the side. He looked back at you, "I don't believe that for one second."

"Well believe whatever you want to, -actually could you like leave?- I have a client in ten minutes he could be here any minute now." You said wanting to end this conversation short not wanting anything to do with him. Ever. Again.

He just stared at you you looking back at him.

Maybe it was the coke but you had clearly forgotten the capabilities of this man. Your mind seemed to have tucked it away somewhere. The true definition of losing your marbles.

He pulled his hand back and smacked the fuck out of you. GD smacking the marbles back in place. "NEVER! I MEAN NEVER! TALK TO ME AGAIN LIKE THAT!" You held your face your body thrown to the side from the sudden impact. "Look at me when im speaking to you!"

Still holding your face you looked up at him tears springing your eyes. Your body shaking in fear.and this was why you stayed away from him. This wasn't the first time.

GD watched you. His eyes looking for any sign of disobedience in you. He closed his eyes and inhaled, then slowly exhaled. "I've told you this baby, I told you not to make me mad. You know how I get," he said finally opening his eyes again staring down at your broken form.

And so broken you were.

You looked down not wanting to show the tears that were about to spill over your face.

"Please don't ever try to order me out again. I go.when I go."He spat.

You looked back up shaking. Tears finally slipping over your tear ducks and out onto your cheeks. You let go of your face and tried to regulate your breathing as you were on the verge of having a panic attack. You rested your hands between your thighs and clasped them tight trying to hold on a little while longer.

"you understand?" he said becoming annoyed with you again almost smacking you but he turned around and tried to calm himself.

You flinched waiting for the impact that never came. GD turned back around. His phone rang before he could Finnish your conversation.

You tried to hold yourself together biting the inside of your cheek.

"Okay," he hung up the phone, "I have some things to attend to,- but we will continue this conversation."

You nodded your head and he left. As he strolled to the door, -he ran into someone shoulder checking them, not looking back.

You hadn't noticed this. You looked down trying to gather yourself before your client came.

You tried to move but you felt paralyzed. You kept looking around franticly trying to stop the tears from coming. You had to be professional and presentable.

You finally breaking out of your trance you leaned over to the table knocking everything down as you scrambled for tissue paper. You grabbed it and wiped your eyes. It spreading your mascara. You looked at the tissue and realized this.

"Fuck," you cried breaking down. You tried to wipe your eyes, in the midst of doing that you spotted a figure at the corner of your eye and you whipped your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat.

Yoongi stood there at the base of the door watching you curiously. He was intoxicated. You could tell in his face. He had his soju in his hand and he looked just like he did 3 months ago when you had last seen him.

Finally. Finally, he had came back.

Only you didn't want to see him.no not after what just happened. You didn't want him to see you in a broken form. You didn't want him to see that side of you. You shouldn't have cared what he saw when he looked at you. You were supposed to be only a fuck for him.

But you did.

Of course, you did.

You quickly got up shutting your emotions off and getting into character. But Yoongi could see right through you. You couldn't fool him, he wasn't stupid. Plus the smeared mascara under your eyes said otherwise.

Shit had just went down, plus the way that guy left your room,- left Yoongi wondering more than he should have.

"Are you my 12 o'clock," you said. Your voice had a slight shake in it.

He didn't say anything, making you anxious. He studied you. Looking at you. Knowing something was off about you.

You stared back at him. Your façade slowly melting off. But still you tried to hold yourself down.

"Are you alright?" yoongi questioned finally, ignoring your question, answering your question with a question - and taking a drink of his soju. You were surprised by his question, and it had completely thrown you off Shaking you completely out of character. The façade rapidly melting off.

He stared intently at you waiting for you to answer, you having no way to change the subject. You were completely naked in front of him. You had nothing to hide under.

So what now?

"Yeah," you said lying, taking the easy way out. With nothing else more to say other than that. You couldn't tell him. So you lied. Even though he could see right through you as if you were made of glass, you tried to utterly get him to believe you were fine. You even were trying to convince yourself.

You didn't want to talk about it. It was nothing. To you it was nothing. nothing compared to the agony you've been feeling for the last three months. GD hitting you didn't even compare To the restless nights and longing to be in his presence.

So, the last thing you wanted to talk about was another man. You wanted to focus only on him.

"i think that's not factual." he said taking another drink. You didn't have anything to say so you stood there dumbfounded. As he stared at you. But when you didn't reply back, "yes I am your twelve o'clock but i don't think we should do anything. you clearly seem shaken up about something..." he looked out into the hallway from where GD had left.

"NO! no! I'm fine I promise!" you said coming closer to him. Yoongi stared at you, you hoped you didn't sound too desperate.

You were now standing directly in front of him. Your platforms making you slightly tower over him.

he reached out to touch your face," he ran a thumb over the skin." he hit you didn't he?"

You panicked!

You Somehow forgetting about it , the pain of your cheek coming back. You forgetting this, as you were trying to convince him otherwise. him making you forget life itself.

Your face had developed a bluish tint to where a bruise had started to form.

Your mind raced as his hand rested on your face. You leaned into it closing your eyes. You feeling some sort of warmth from it.

Yoongi dropped his hand to his side. "I may come back again," he said not sounding for sure or not. Making promises wasn't his thing.

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You. Couldn't. Wait. Another. Three. Months. No, this was now or never. This wasn't about to end on a worse note than you already had started.

You both stared at each other. An electric current connecting you to him. "don't go you started to cry." you were breaking the rules. You were being desperate. Now not caring at all.

Now it was his turn to lose his façade His eyes widening in shock.

"I mean im okay you don't-" but you couldn't explain your reasoning. This was the first time seeing him in three months he couldn't just go like that. Not when you anticipated his return so eagerly.

Still he didn't say anything, he just watched you, waiting to see what else might come out your mouth. You hesitated but eventually "just help me forget," you said talking about him smacking you."pretend to love me this time.... even if its just for tonight." you said repeating his words from three months ago.

You waited for his reaction but he just stared at you. Your face heated up knowing you would be rejected. You were way out of place asking for such a request knowing he was the one paying you not the other way around.

Moments went by, silence engulfed you both. You both never broke eye contact. He took another drink of his soju his eyes fixated solely on you. He stepped over the threshold, your heart beating fast at the anticipation of what was happening. Coming straight towards you never breaking your eye contact

He backed you towards the couch and he put the soju down on the table all while still staring at you. He laid you down on the couch and he began kissing your body. He got up and closed the door and locked it an you watched him.

You squeezed your legs shut as your beautiful body waited for him on the couch. You were throbbing for him and it was too much to take.

He came back and opened your thighs making you whine.

Your stomach had butterflies in them and every time he touched you, you would shutter in its wake.

He got on top of you and kissed your neck leaving fresh new love bites on them. You whined when he did this. You grabbed him around his neck and kissed him there. You earned a groan from him and it excited you. You decided that you would step out of place and do everything to him you wanted just in case you never seen him again.

You grabbed his face and crashed your lips to his. He was surprised but he responded. He lost control as the kiss deepened and your heart nearly stoped.

He broke the kiss and kissed your collar bone, kissing you above your breast and so on, till he got to your woman hood. He slid your panties to your lingerie set to the side and took your clit in his mouth.

You whined. He was also stepping out of place. You were there to please him. Not him to please you. You weren't supposed to receive oral sex from your client, you were there to do it for him.

He shoved to finger in you and you lost it. You coming undone right beneath him. He sucked your clit and fingered you trying to get you off. Nothing but your cries filled the room.

When you came you nearly screamed. He held your hands from trying to push him away but you were so sensitive you couldn't take it. But then he made you cum again, -and you were sure your body would lose its soul. Your toes curling at the feeling he was giving you.

Yoongi hovered over you and pulled your boobs out of the baby doll. Kneading then softly making you twitch with every touch. Your whole body sensitive from his touch, it knowing what he was capable of,- making you cum. You came so hard for him.

He stood up and pulled his pants down to his thighs all while watching you and grabbed a condom off the table. He rolled it on and then hovered over you. He lined up with your entrance and then shoved into you.

You cried out. So sensitive already it feeling so intense as he fucked you.

He came down onto you, you grabbed him close. " I love you,” he whispered. And there it went, your soul left your body. He left kisses on your neck and surprisingly initiated the kiss. You responding quickly. He broke the kiss and watched as he fucked you, your eyes closed and whining beneath him.

He like you like that.

Yoongi pulled you up so you could sit on his lap and grabbed you by your waist and bouncing you up and down off him. You cried out and your tits bounced with the rhythm. You were so sexy to him it was dangerous. He could fall for a girl like you, but he wouldn't allow it.

Yoongi told you that he loved you again, and you whined when he fucked you harder. You finally told him you loved him back and he groaned when it left your lips, - him crashing his lips to yours again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck again and you humped the shit out of him. Yoongi entangled his arms from you and grabbed your face as you guys kissed. It being a little too intimate. You putting all your feelings into it and him?

You didn't know.

"You love me?" he said after he broke the kiss?

You shook your head yes

"Tell me."

"I love you," you breathed, igniting his intense orgasm.

He stiffened inside of you emptying his frustrations into you.

You came with him and that third strike took you out. You screamed his name this time and collapsed on his chest. With your head on his shoulder grabbing him tightly. And you just stayed like that. you clinging to him and crying.

He rubbed your back and you stayed like that. Just listening to each other's breathing. You didn't want this to end. You didn't want to NOT see him anymore.

You needed this person in your life.there was just something about him. You needed him. You craved him. Longed for him.

Yoongi had became such an important part of your life and you didn't ask for it just happened.

You never experienced love before but the feeling you had when you were with him showed you otherwise.

Tears slightly ran down your face, you not wanting to face the reality that was and is Yoongi.

He was your client nothing more but you just didn't want to accept it.

He kissed your neck softly and you whined at the contact. He was still inside of you but he had started to soften.

You didn't want to move so you waited for him to. He didn't.

Yoongi didn't want to leave either. He felt weird around you and he didn't know why. He didn't like to think about it. He didn't want to figure it out. He was afraid of the outcome.

He contemplated even coming back in the first place and this was what he was afraid of. He was afraid of you. You scared him. You could unlock things he kept away. You seemed to break through to him penetrating through the intoxication he used as a mask.

No girl has ever done that and you scared him.

So when you never seen him again it broke you.

you were right you never saw him again.

Yoongi never came back.

And he was never going to.

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

"Yagami Light as a youtuber would probably plagiarise" WRONG Yagami Light is insanely intelligent and looks down on literally every single other human person, he would rather stab himself in the eye than using the works of someone else - someone who can't be anything but beneath him. Pre-Death Note youtuber!Light would make long-ass videos about Everything Wrong With Society with completely unhinged takes about how xyz small innocuous thing is responsible for gang violence with numbers* to back it up.

"Light would plagiarise" get the fuck out of here.

*numbers which he completely twists to his own bias - without even knowing it because he thinks way too highly of himself

[starswallowingsea]

the fact i got infected with shu/madara brainrot over a joke i made to a friend on discord and now im being forced to make my own content

[apollo-zero-one]

Listening to stories of people who survived situations like being trapped in collapsed buildings and it kinda sounds like the human response to being trapped in a bad situation is to just keep going back to sleep until death comes. Thinking about depressive avoidant sleeping. Brain doesn't know you aren't trapped under rubble it can't see out of his bone prison brain just knows everything is bad and everything hurts and we can't handle this stress we need to divert all power to life support, night night.