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bergandysam · 10 months

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Kim Seokjin Fic Recs

‼️18+ minors DNI, if you choose to anyways, PLEASE be careful. try to heed our warnings, we have them for a reason‼️

More Recs Here

he’s insanely good looking your honour

[not in any particular order] [if any users would like me to remove their post from this list please let me know and i will do so immediately!]

thank you daddy @ktheist 19k

sugar daddy!seokjin, WHEEWWW, small angst, hella smut tho LOLL, 9 YEAR AGE GAP!, they’re both horny fucks,

fast lane @yminie 20.6k

racer!seokjin, enemies2lovers, angst, smut !!!!!short depictions of car accidents!!!!!, jin is a PLAYA, reader really hates his guts LOLL

cherry topper @kth1 17.6k

friends2lovers, longtime pining, college!au, reader works at his family’s candy shop :)) fluff, angst, SMUT, reader is dense as hell LOLL

every year @another-army-spot 15.6k

childhood bff2L, chef!seokjin, a yearly new year’s eve party!!, hard fluff, smutty angst, they both grew up hella rich.

final sleigh @floralseokjin 23.3k

coworkers, e2l, reader very much hates seokjin LOLLL, forced proximity fanfic 🤭🤭 smut, fluff(?), angst in Y/N is petty LMAO, it’s christmas!

stuck with you @taleasnewastime 29.6k

strangers2lovers, reader is grumpy :(, they’re stuck in a city they don’t want to be in, Jin is a raining ball of sunshine, angst, smut, fluff, angst. happy ending :)

MENTIONS OF DEATH!

small tuna fish @floralseokjin 17.1k

college!au, jin is a GOOD nice guy, he’s so jinny, FLUFF x10000, smut too LOL, jin is a cutie, he’s inexperienced, there’s a charity car wash too 🤪

warm this winter @jamaisjoons 51.6k

s2l, this was so cute, jk is such a dumbass, but it’s okay seokjin is here to save the day. fluff, angst, SMUT. it just smacks u in the fuckin face.

lost and found @taleasnewastime 21.2k

s2l, seokjin owns a silly lil shop cuz he’s a silly lil guy, reader was cheated on, fluff, angst, they’re so cute. jimin is there too! oneshot.

you guys don’t understand how fucking much i love this story. i’ve re-read it more times than i can count. i think about this Jin once a week

made up love song @floralseokjin series

dilf!seokjin, teacher!reader, arin is saur cute, angsty :(, but fluffy!!! n very smutty, lots of fluff with arin, seokjins ex >:(

turn back time @raplinesmoon 13.3k

seokjin accidentally fast forwards time, smut, angsty fluff, reader is a doctor, JIN POPS A SEMI 💀💀💀💀

sit. stay. @daechwitatamic 14k

dog owners!!!, they live in the same building, jin just wants to help MC, miscommunication :(, fluff, angst, smut, more fluff. literally. cuz dogs. i love this jinnie sooo much

the ikea test @yoon-bug 9.1k

they’re dating, hoseok was right 💀, reader gets upset with seokjin, jin saves the day!!, and then screws the HELL out of MC, so.. smut, fluff too :)

last november @kithtaehyung 24.7k 😭😭

god. exes2l, angst and um oh more angst, smut, all ends well, they’re on a holiday trip with tha gang.

ryen NEVER misses. masterpiece after masterpiece.

the platonic collection @joheunsaram mini series

FWB2L, MC is kinda… she’s kinda dense LOL, seokjin is a cutie, smut, fluff

off limits @floralseokjin series

brothers best friend!seokjin, they’re hiding :(, FWB2L, angst angst angst, yoongi gets puNCHED, smut, readers brother is overprotective, lil fluff

don’t go baking my heart @candlewaxandp0lar0ids 14.7k

i don’t think u understand i love this seokjin. JK is a cutie, S2L, jinnie owns a bakery and is the master of puns, kinda angsty, fluff, they’re also IDIOTS. lil smut

cupids on holiday @persphonesorchid 17k

cupid!seokjin, fluff, angst :(, smut, E2L?? ily jin. but i HATE U. but ily.

all i don’t want for christmas is you @minisugakoobies 23.7k

coworkers AU!, E2L, crack, fluff, smut, jin has a big… ego.. y’all. Y/N pisses me the hell off, but they’re SO CUTE 😭

glazed and dazed @floralseokjin 30.3k

um. PORNSTAR SEOKJIN. thank you that’s all, jk, seokjin ☹️, obviously smut, but they’re fluffy n cute i promise.

the devil wears armani @floralseokjin 65k series

WHEW this one is a doozy, devil!jin, jimin is there too, very much smut smut smut, angsty, fluffy, seokjin has a soft spot.

like i said at the end of my last fic rec post, if any of you have recommendations for me, please send them through!! my inbox is OPEN and i am always looking for more things to read!!! 🫶🫶

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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My Future in You | 2.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, requited love but they’re idiots your honour

…

Bradley wanders through the house, whistling as he goes. It’s maybe a little too quiet, but he’s not complaining. At first, he assumes that you’ve gone to the store or to the park — then he remembers why he’s home early today. It’s Thursday. Lamaze. After you had made such a big deal about the two of you going, there’s no a chance in hell that you would’ve forgotten that it was today.

Dropping his bag to the ground, he rolls his shoulders back and stretches his arms over his head. Spending all day in that stuffy-ass classroom, in this heat, was torture. He’s still trying to wake himself up after that boring day.

His whistling stops as he continues through the apartment, trailing his fingertips along the wall. He glances into the kitchen — no sign. Following forwards, he next checks the baby’s room.

“Hey, Seresin! — You home?”

You scowl at the way he chooses to address you. One hand rested on your swollen stomach, your eyes darken, features stormy as he rounds the corner into the nursery.

“Hi.” He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, leaning against the doorframe, chewing on a piece of gum. He looks handsome, standing there in his flightsuit with a neat, white t-shirt on under it.

“Bradshaw.” You answer him begrudgingly, hoping he takes offence to it as much as you do. Six weeks away from bringing his child into the world and he still calls you by your surname.

His grin falters as he lifts his arm and checks his watch. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? — That class starts in like forty minutes.”

“Yes.” You reply, continuing to fold the muslins on the ground like that is all part of the plan. His brows scrunch softly — you’re never late and you definitely weren’t this chilled out about the class last night.

“So…?” He prompts you. Your face creases with irritation, calmly folding the cloths, avoiding his gaze.His face drops in realisation, breaking into a delighted grin. “You can’t get up.”

“Yes, I can. I just don’t want to.” You bite back instantly. His grin widens.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars if you stand up right now.” Digging his hand into his pocket, he goes for his wallet, amusement dripping from that shit-eating grin on his face. Your hand balls into a koala printed linen cloth as you lift your gaze and glare at him.

“Why would I want twenty dollars from you?”

You would think that he would know better than to taunt a woman as pregnant as you are, but he continues anyway, his laugh practically a giggle as he urges you on. “I’ll go down on you the second we get home. Stand up.”

You hiss in annoyance, balling the cloth in your hand and launching it at his head. “Get out of my face, I swear to god — you make me want to hit you with things.”

He doubles over laughing, knowing that you just proved his point. Clutching a hand over his chest, he drops to his knees in front of you, cheeks red and flushed with delight. Your scowl twitches. Still laughing, he leans in closer across your criss-crossed legs. “Baby, that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” You frown at him, lips practically pouted. Bradley grins, darting forwards to peck your pouted lips softly. He slips his hands into yours and stands back up, pulling you with him. You groan in complaint and breathe out hard, immediately dropping his hands and resting them against the small of your back.

“You sore?” Bradley asks, brows scrunching softly. You huff, brushing past him calmly and heading for the bathroom.

“Always.”

“Wanna shower together? — Save some time?”

“I don’t think it would save any time.” You reply, walking ahead of him. You leave the bathroom door open behind you anyway. As annoying as he is, you can’t pretend that he doesn’t look especially handsome in his flightsuit.

Now at the end of his second week, he has eased into the adjustment of flight school with more ease than he had your pregnancy. Like he was born to do it.

Bradley hears the water start to run and ducks into the bathroom, glancing down to find your shorts and tank top already discarded on the tile floor.

“Are you coming or what?” Your voice comes from behind the shower curtain.

He grins again. Making quick work of his flightsuit and kicking his boots off, he tugs his way out of the rest of his clothes. Stepping into the shower behind you, he presses his lips to the curve of your neck. He exhales slowly as he gives his arms a gentle squeeze around your middle.

“How was work today?” You rest your head against his shoulder as he smooths his palm over your stomach and then wraps his arms around your middle. He hugs himself closer to you, humming in quiet contentment.

“Was alright,” He tells you softly, turning his face into the curve of your neck and kissing your skin softly. “How was your day?”

“Slow,” You answer him, reaching forwards to grab your body wash. “This kid has me moving like a sloth, and my hips are killing me.”

His hands slide lower on your middle and you almost open your mouth to scold him. He hooks his hands under the bottom of your stomach and braces some of the weight of it under his palms. “Couple more weeks, baby.”

You close your eyes, lingering on the feeling of his chest against your back and the borderline weightless feeling that rushes through you without the added weight in your middle.

He turns his face into the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly at the damp skin. As much as you try to keep your mind level, you find yourself pressing back into him.

“We can’t be late for our first class.” You remind him quietly. He strokes your hair back away from your neck, free hand curling around your hip.

“How ‘bout I just get you off?” He asks, pressing his chest firmer against your back. Your brows furrow slightly, wondering when that happened. When this development had occurred. A few months ago, you’re certain that he never would have offered this. Maybe you just didn’t know him that well back then. Or maybe he didn’t like you that much.

“Baby?” He reminds you to answer him. You whine softly at the realisation that you’re standing there like an idiot, frozen with anticipation.

“We really don’t have time.” You’re just as disappointed to say it as he is to hear it. His hands slide along your front and cup your swollen breasts cautiously, pressing his lips to your neck.

He hums quietly and presses himself against your ass, letting you feel that he’s half-hard. Your hand rests against the bathroom tile, head leaned back against his shoulder. Shitty, first-home kind of bathroom tile. You hope that you’ll remember this. Young, dumb and about to miss your first lamaze class for a quickie against some shitty, first-home kind of bathroom tile.

It turns out that the teacher is running late because of a flat tire — not that you were that late to begin with, Bradley’s already insisting that he knows the fastest ways around town.

He grabs the door and swings it open, balancing your bag on his shoulder and the yoga mat under his arm as he gestures for you to go first. White t-shirt, black gym shorts, still wet curls tucked under a white and green Philadelphia Eagles cap.

He has complimented your sundress six times since you put it on. You can’t pretend that it doesn’t inflate your ego to have him fawning over you. That you don’t love looking in the mirror and smoothing a hand over your ever-growing stomach, delighted with everything that your body has done for you so far.

“So, those are, like, flowers on it? — Roses?” His eyes are on your ass as you walk into the studio, two steps ahead of him. The door swings shut behind the two of you, air conditioning chilling your warm skin. You glance back at him and shrug.

“I thought they were birds.” As you turn back, you notice that a few couples have turned around to look at you.

There are maybe twelve couples in the class. You’re the last to arrive. You’re the youngest by maybe a decade. Your partner almost trips over you because he’s too busy trying to figure out if the pattern stretched over your ass is birds or roses to notice that you’ve stopped walking.

“There’s space here.” He doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, as quietly confident as always, leaning over your shoulder to peck your cheek and then set up.

Silently, you’re reminded of the cruelest thing that you have said to Bradley. That you don’t want your son to be anything like him. Laying in the hospital, sobbing, terrified of raising someone that could be half as brash and thoughtless as their father.

You watch him now, setting your bag down and rolling out the mat, wordlessly taking your hand and helping you sit. He is completely unaware of the looks that you just received. Maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he just didn’t care. Thoughtless — no. His thoughts are in the right place, his focus is entirely on you and him.

“You’re right, they’re birds.” Bradley decides as he sits down behind you, bracketing your thighs with his and resting his chin against your shoulder. You rest your hands against his knees, squeezing softly. He smooths his hands over the material. “Did you want to get dinner after this?”

His heart beats steadily against your back, the warmth of his cheek resting against the curve of your neck. You trail your fingers in a circle over each of his knees.

“Like a date?”

His brows scrunch. In fact, he almost scoffs. “If you want to call it that.”

Your touch slows, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek softly. You shrug your shoulders and rest your hands in your lap, “Yeah, if you’re hungry.”

Things with Bradley are complicated. Nothing about the seven months that you have known him has been simple. But, living with him has introduced a whole new influx of challenges. You sleep in his bed, you fuck in his shower — and in most areas of the apartment, for that matter — and you are having a baby together. All signs point towards monogamy.

But, you aren’t going to be the idiot that assumes and gets their heart stepped on.

You decided a few nights ago that you were going to stop sleeping with him until your relationship was defined. You had then woken up to him spooning you; your pregnancy hormones made quick work of dismantling the pact that you had made with yourself.

It says something about you, doesn’t it? — That you’ll carry his child but you won’t put your foot down and ask what you are to him. Truthfully, both answers to that question seem a little bit terrifying. You’re his girlfriend, or you aren’t.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” You’re snapped from your daydream by the stock-image looking couple situated to your left. A smiling blonde woman and her dark-haired husband, looking at you like they’re being paid to be this friendly. “I’m Mark, this is my wife Zara.”

Interesting name for a stock-image woman. You remind yourself that being mean on the inside won’t make you look any friendlier on the outside and force a quick smile. Bradley listens politely as you introduce the two of you to this new couple.

It occurs to him in that moment, that he’s probably going to have to have parent friends. Grown-ups whose shitty kids he has to pretend to like, or carpool places. Maybe he should get into golf or something.

You don’t ask them what they do for work, but Mr. Stock-Image decides to tell you anyway. “I’m in cardiology, my wife’s in a law firm.” Dr. Stock-Image.

He gestures between the two of them and they beam over at you, his hand stretching down to cover her bump. “This is our first, we wanted to wait until the right moment to start trying.”

Bradley exhales an obnoxious sound from behind you and claps a hand down onto your shoulder. Breathing out slowly, you close your eyes and wait for what you know is coming next. “Man, I hate to think of what we could’ve done if we had been trying.”

Smoothing your hand along his knee, you catch hold of a couple of leg hairs and pinch. He places his hand on top of yours and moves it back into your lap.

“So, um, how did you guys meet?” Dr. Stock-Image tries to revive the flow of conversation, that perpetually friendly look coating his features. His wife hasn’t said anything yet, she just keeps on smiling like something from the Stepford Wives.

“Funny story, actually.” Bradley beams. Your eyes widen as you move for a quick intercept before he has a chance to say what he’s going to say. There are supposed to be three more classes after this, you can’t take him making things awkward on the first day.

“Just through college.”

Mark nods calmly. Finally, his beaming wife chips in, “So, have you been together long?”

You almost wince. You’re certain that the couple notices. Exhaling slowly, keeping your smile tight-lipped and polite, you shake your head. You won’t make a fool of yourself by saying maybe three weeks — as long as you’ve been in Pensacola, and you definitely won’t let Bradley have to correct you later on. “We aren’t together.”

He doesn’t say anything. Through the hour long class, you’re left wondering if it’s because he agrees or if it’s because you have annoyed him. Sitting on the hood of the bronco, finishing off some fries in front of the beach, he confirms that it’s the latter.

“Did you mean what you said in that class?”

You wrap your lips around your straw and sip at your sprite, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as your body will allow. Pensacola’s not your favourite place, you already know that you won’t be here for longer than you have to be, but it does have some pretty sunsets. You’re grateful for that. It gives you something to look at other than him.

“I didn’t want to assume anything, especially in front of strangers.” You aren’t looking for an argument, or a broken heart. Your approach is tender-footed, cautious. It makes Bradley’s heart sink to realize that you feel that way. He glances across at you and then looks back towards the beach.

“I assumed.” He admits, leaning back on his palms. You turn your head to look at him. He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Before, Bradley knows that he would have been mad about this. Embarrassed. He’s still a little embarrassed. But he understands your caution.

Things have been rocky between the two of you. Not so much since you got here. Bradley has adored these past three weeks. He was sitting in a pre-flight lecture the other day and thinking about how shitty it would be, coming home to that empty apartment. Maybe going out to bars on weekends and trying to score girls, living off of ready meals because cooking for one just isn’t worth it.

Instead, he gets to come home to you, and laugh at you for being so pregnant that you get stuck on the ground. To watch movies with you in the evenings, or for you to tell him about the book you’re reading because you know that he doesn’t have the attention span to finish it himself, so he doesn’t mind the spoilers.

His favourite part is those late talks with you. When the baby is keeping you awake, and he’s almost asleep already, but you’re just talking. Asking him questions to keep him with you, letting him smooth his hands over your skin. He loves the things that you come up with just to keep him awake.

“Would you… want us to be together?” Bradley asks gently.

You close your eyes. You had been hoping that this decision wouldn’t fall down to you, because you’re half-certain that somewhere along the way, you’ve fallen in love with him. It dawned on you two days ago. He got home early from work and cooked for you — it had surprised you.

You had always thought that he was the kind of guy that would burn toast. He admitted that he probably only knows two recipes, but it had surprised you. The grin on his face when you had admitted that it was good, it sparked butterflies in your stomach that you had thought were just rumours.

“I mean, do you?”

“Yeah.” Bradley’s answer is maybe a second too quick, but not urgent. You’ve got a feeling that if you told him no, he would still do his best to accept your answer.

“So, I’d be your girlfriend?” You turn your head towards him and raise your eyebrows. He adjusts the brim of his cap to protect his eyes from the sun, casting a shadow over their honeyed hue, then nods his head. Your lips quirk softly. You lean into him. “I think I could put up with that.”

Bradley smiles across at you, all golden skin and golden eyes — annoyingly handsome in this oranged tint. He flattens his palm against the hood and leans across to kiss you. Soft, slow, and he pulls back to look at the sky again. There is a moment’s silence between the two of you.

“Lamaze was boring as fuck, by the way,” He decides finally, grabbing his soda from beside you. “You didn’t tell me that it was just going to be an hour of breathing for dummies.”

Lips quirking, you sip at your sprite again. He’s right. It kind of was for dummies, and all of the information in there was available on youtube anyway. You didn’t want to go back anyway.

“There are parenting classes there on Tuesdays, do you think we should just go to those instead?”

Bradley gives a quick shrug of those broad shoulders and dips his fries into his ketchup. “What does that teach?”

“Um, diapers, swaddling, bathing them — nursing and stuff, I’m not sure.” You list off as much as your brain will allow you to recall at this point in your pregnancy. There’s more, but there is no point trying to search your brain for that information now.

“What’s swaddling?”

…

Tags:

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader

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firefirefruit · 6 months

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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Two

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Two: All Goop and No Blades

Frankly, it’s not going well.

I mean, are you surprised? You thought it was a fantastic idea to not only humiliate a marimo’s honour, but to also liquefy his weaponry into runny snot. Right now, the remnants of what used to be legendary blades trail past between you and the Bull-Head’s feet, almost looking like it’s spilling giddily away with a newfound sense of freedom.

But are you disappointed in yourself? Mmmm, no, not really.

Gramps is doing that for you, anyway, with the completely horrified expression he’s overcome with. You can almost hear his imploring voice flooding out of his eyes – “Why, Raya…Why?” – as you now stand moronically in front of the two men.

There’s an astounded silence within the workshop as you awkwardly just…stand there.

Well, you didn’t really plan this far ahead, did you?

Slowly, Bull-Head cranks his head away from the liquid snot that’s now kissing his boots, and slowly, but surely, he manages to face you. Sharp shadows creep upon his face like drawn-out blades, glinting at you as a bid of their welcome -- or are they trying to wish you goodbye?

By instinct, your palms flare up just like when one jump-starts an engine, with flame and smoke and light brimming all the way up to your elbows. You suppose you should greet him back – it’s only polite to do so, really.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” Bull-boy hisses.

“That’s my government name! How did you know?” You chirp with a sweet smile plastered on your lips.

With a snarl, he claws clumsily at the side of his hip, before realising that, indeed, his swords are no longer swords. In fact, they’re hardening together like gloop on the floor.

He stands there idiotically not knowing what to do. Until…

Until he starts smirking stupidly at you.

“Fine. You wanna play? I’ll play,” he says as he steps past your baffled demeanour towards your other workbench, swiping a half-finished sword you were previously pouring your heart into. He tilts his head to the side, giving you a malicious grin before he starts charging again.

“Marimo!” Gramps tries to intervene, but it seems that bull-head’s too quick.

And he wrecks everything. Your work. Your prized possessions. The old letters you kept in remembrance of someone deeply special to you. Your first katana you ever forged at the age of eight that made Gramps jump out from his stool and obnoxiously cheer at your awesome skills, but then start yelling at you because an eight-year-old isn’t allowed to make, yet alone handle, sharp blades! Your collection of ancient artefacts, now spewed on the ground like humiliating waste. Your tools. Your tools.

It all happens within a flash; one second, he’s grinning at your precious half-made blade in his palm, and in the next, half of the workshop is completely in shambles. You look around, your fingers curling into a fist, trying to contain your dangerously consuming pain.

Managing to hold in a breath, you’re faced with gramps as surprised as you are. Because, oddly enough, none of gramps’ belongings were scathed, all perfectly untouched in their usual scattered spots.

Why did he – no, how did he manage to…?

That doesn’t matter. Because, evidently, he fucked with yours. And maybe you deserved what you got, sure…but…

“Fuck you!” You scream in torment, running towards the scraps of letters that gather on the floor. They’re her letters, her handwriting, the last physical thing you have of her, that lay within your palms. Torn in half. Now tainted by the hands of a complete stranger.

Suddenly, two novel voices emerge from the background; one with femininity and assertion, it exclaims with fury directed at the bull-head. You don’t turn around and look, no. Forcing down your emotions back in your little mental box, you stare intricately at the letters torn very perfectly in half. It looks restorable, but…

“Zoro?” A young, tentative voice questions.

“Zoro? What the fuck did you do!?” The female voice yells out. You hear a thick and heavy thwack following on after, making the bull-head yelp out.

“She started it first!”

“What the fuck, Zoro? Who are they?” She asks, her teeth gritting hard.

Silence. An awkward shuffling of feet.

“I…don’t know.”

“What!?” The two voices yell synchronously.

“Look, I forgot to ask,” Bull-head says – in your opinion, a bit too calmly.

You hear Gramps’ guffaws echo behind you, quite obviously enjoying this theatrical performance he’s been gifted with.

“I’m Tenguyama Hitetsu. That’s my granddaughter, Raya, in the corner there. We’re swordsmiths.”

“I’m so sorry, did he do this?” The apologetic tone in the girl’s voice seems genuine, at least.

“No, this was well-deserved,” he responds, making your chest slightly twinge. Gramps isn’t wrong, but it still hurts.

“I’m more impressed with your skills, young marimo,” Gramps continues with a slightly interested lilt to his tone. Hearing him praising another person, let alone him, made your heart sting and your teeth grind, seeing how little you, his granddaughter, receive affirmations from him.

Bull-head mutters something in response that you can’t properly hear, but it makes Gramps guffaw loudly and shake his head dismissively.

“Is she okay?” The high-pitched voice asks while you hear two pairs of footsteps and… hooves…start nearing your position.

What do they want?

A bright orange head comes into your view as she silently kneels by your side.

“Hey, I’m Nami. This is Chopper…”

The small animal hiding behind her peeps an antler out and waves with his little hoof. You don’t respond; instead, you silently nod while beginning to clean the mess that was made.

Suddenly, you see two hands and two hooves start to join yours, dusting off your possessions without a single word.

“I don’t know what happened here but I’m really sorry - Zoro’s difficult to deal with. Me, Chopper and the rest should know.”

You shake your head solemnly. “I hate to say this, but my old man's right. I started all of this.”

“Still, he’s an arrogant marimo. I don’t blame you for whatever you did. Wish I saw it in person, actually,” Nami says, offering a smile.

You smile back at her a little, looking at the ceiling. You hold in a breath, preparing yourself a little, before letting it out. “I may or may not have melted his swords.”

Nami and Chopper stare at you, flabbergasted, with their mouths hanging wide open.

You bite your lip, looking away. “I know, it was stupid.”

In a sudden, Nami starts boisterously cackling. You slightly jump at the sound, surprised at the sudden change in reaction. You stare at the orange-haired girl laughing who has a hand on her stomach - Chopper is also giggling behind her, staring at the hardened metal on the floor as evidence.

“Oh my God, now I really wish I was there to see it.”

You let out a laugh in response to that, quite astounded and slightly alarmed by their carefree reactions; at one moment, you really thought you were gonna get your ass beat by his friends, and that would’ve been totally fair. While the three of you stand up, you manage to carefully fold the letters in half and place them in your pocket.

“So...yeah. That’s why our workshop…doesn’t look like a workshop right now,” you say, gesturing towards the half-destructed field of metal and bronzework.

Chopper finally pops out of Nami’s shadow, a slight blush dusting on top of his nose.

“We can help restore it! Our shipwright, Franky – he’s great at fixing things. I mean, you’re a craftsman too, though, so I guess you don’t need the help, but…” Chopper mutters, looking away.

You shake your head at him and smile. You really appreciate their kindness – for what you’ve done, it seems like you should be experiencing worse than this.

“We would really appreciate the help, thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

And then, in that very minute, a long string of rubber flings past everyone’s vision like a rocket on drugs as it stretches across the entire length of your studio, and you swear you can hear this beige coloured thing emit a war cry at the same time.

“Luffy, stop! You'll make things worse!” Chopper yells out, staring at the blur of rubber whizzing around like a deflating balloon.

“What the…” You whisper, placing a hand to your forehead. What the hell is going on today? Are you sure you aren’t dreaming right now? Are you on drugs?

“That’s our captain,” Nami nudges her shoulder with yours, intuitively guessing what you were thinking. “And yeah, this really is happening right now.”

Then, as the fleshy string of rubber starts to lose more and more air, you manage to see a slight shape of a human take place in the rubbery mass as it lands on two feet. And boy, it’s a shape of an excited guy who’s dancing around the studio, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Yo, Zoro! This was where you were? We got Chopper to sniff you out. Did you get lost? Where are we?” The boy says, grinning widely.

He turns to stare at the workshop, surprised with what he got himself into - and then at Gramps, surprised with the stranger standing there.

“Hey Pops, who are you? Woah, cool swords! Did you make these?” He rushes to the weapons displayed behind Gramps’ head, clawing for the one with the red hilt. Surprisingly, it’s the Bull-head who grabs the boy’s collar, but this only makes you grit your teeth harder. Fucking marimo.

“Pipe down, Luffy. He’s a swordsmith,” He grunts, using all his strength to anchor the straw-hat in place.

Suddenly, the boy roots his feet to the spot as he gapes at your Gramps.

“Cool! Are you any good?”

“I only do it as a hobby,” Gramps dismisses and waves his hand at him.

“Actually, he’s one of the best swordsmiths you’ll ever meet,” you interject stubbornly. It pisses you off whenever Gramps has to be modest about his work; in reality, he’s more than good, and not many people are able give him the recognition he deserves.

Luffy and the others turn to you, surprised with your comment. Their captain grins at you widely and cocks his head.

“Who are you?”

“Jeez, Luffy, can’t you be a bit more polite?” Nami hisses. Obliviously, Luffy only blinks in response.

“I’m Raya,” You answer. “He’s my gramps.”

“Cool! So can I ask your Gramps to be part of my crew?”

You freeze, absolutely stunned by such a question. A workshop...without Gramps? Having to relocate by yourself every three months? Can you even do that?

“What?” You stutter.

“Luffy!” Nami, Chopper and Bull-Head all yell out, making the boy blink innocently.

“What? I asked politely.”

Gramps suddenly bellows in laughter, shaking his head at the entirety of the situation. Even he can’t grasp onto what’s happening, especially when melted swords and half broken workshops and flying rubber are all involved.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer!”

“What? Why?” Luffy pouts.

“I’m too old, boy…my arm and legs don’t work like they used to…” Gramps slides his eyes to your direction, slyly curling his lips into a smile. “But I can give you a better offer…”

Your heart pauses, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. No way in hell is he going to say what you think he’s going to say. Absolutely not. You would refuse, anyway. The whole prospect of it is ridiculous.

The innocent, oblivious boy sets off the trigger with one simple question.

“And what’s that, pops?”

Shaking your head vigorously at Gramps, staring at him with desperation in your eyes, Gramps' smile merely grows bigger. With his eyes locked on you and a hand gesturing to your direction, he loudly says,

“You can have my apprentice, instead.”

Dread enters your whole body, plunging you into disbelief, making you want to disappear from this very moment.

67 notes · View notes

delcakoo · 2 years

Note

no but a dual palace with the yang and nishimura families, where Riki and Jungwon aren’t too keen on honouring and sharing the throne. however, they will honour and share reader as their town bestie WITHOUT hesitation. I picture the trio similarly to your prince!jungwon imagine, their interactions would be seen as controversial because cross-class friendships aren’t really a thing. plus the next kings just so happened to confide in someone who’s from the lowest class. I want to add more, but my thoughts are all over and I’d prefer if you would add your ideas 😭 and how you picture this trio (a lil headcanon), IF you are comfortable.

oof the tags didnt work on this one so i hope u see it still anon :(

mini part 2

ANON OMF PLS BE ONE OF MY ANONS PLSPLSPLSJDNDBJD ur so creative i love this?!? ofc i will add some of my thoughts >:D it kinda ended with 800+ words and a poly relationship so if you didnt want that just ignore the end jehdjdb 😭 tysm for the fun request ily <33

despite being a mere baker smack in the middle of town with your parents, you just happened to be best friends with the two young princes of your home

it all started when your family were assigned baking a 5 layer cake for jungwon’s 18th birthday

and as a thank you, your family was invited to join the party despite being lower class

giving you the chance to hang out with the two princes, who ended up getting along with you more than well :D

neither jungwon or niki had plans to share their crown or find any friends beside each other but !!

you guys truly became peas in a pod

your days usually went like this:

wake up, have breakfast and head downstairs to start rolling dough n’ make pastries with your parents

then at 9 on the dot, the shop opens and customers start flooding in :’)

if you were lucky, niki or jungwon would sneak out and come visit you even though it was deFinitelY forbidden for princes to be wandering around the town without at least a bodyguard 🧌

but once you were finally off your shift, you often went to spend the day with the boys anyway

the guards at the palaces entrance definitely know and love you by now

“hi y/n!” the guard you’ve come to know as taehyung waves cheerfully

“hi tae! have you seen won or niki?”

inwardly he was just shocked at how casually you addressed the princes

the boy ponders for a moment, “i think they’re playing soccer in the back garden? not sure.”

they were definitely playing soccer

and forced YOU to be their referee while they have a ridiculous 1v1 🧍

“y/n! did you see that? he literally puLLEd my shirt! that’s not allowed right?” niki barks

meanwhile you were just picking weeds out of the ground

“huh? oh uh..yeah! yellow card jungwon!!”

“what!? no fair! niki literally shoved me to the ground earlier!”

“yeah, well thats ‘cause i’m her favorite, idiot.”

jungwon gasps in disbelief, “now that’s just a lie.”

both of them look at you in desperation for an answer, only to see you off in your own world on the grass

so much for being their referee

“fine, whoever scores the next goal is y/ns favorite!”

sigh

they were menaces but YOUR menaces <3

contrary to the palace guards, both jungwon and niki’s parents have been on the verge of banning you from seeing their sons on multiple occasions, claiming you were a ‘bad influence’

if only they knew 90% of the pranks the three of you pulled were mr nishimura’s ideas 🤨🤨

however you weren’t really phased since a lot of the maids around the castle also frowned upon seeing you with their princes

you’d be absolutely rACING around the castle on niki’s back, won running next to you guys while a poor woman that you’d pranked chased the three of you down 😞

another thing

as the three of you got closer, the boys became extremely protective over you

there was a pretty town boy that had recently moved nearby, and he started visiting the bakery more and more after he was introduced to you by your mother

your poor parents just wanted you to have a friend that wasn’t literal royalty 💀

but this did NOT please either of your best friends

it made you wonder if they saw you as more than friends, considering the way they’d handled the situation:

“oh yeah, and you might won’t believe it, but i think i’m actually making a real friend besides you guys!”

the speed in which they looked at each other like: 😃😨😧😱😐😐😐

“—like no offence, you’re both my best friends still, but it’s kinda hard when—“

“who? who is this friend?” niki interrupts

jungwon looked much more calm, but he was definitely sending you a glare even harsher than the younger prince

“his name’s jake, he’s a bit taller than jungwon, brown hai—“

one of them sprung up from his seat dramatically

the other nearly fainted in jealousy at the words ‘taller than jungwon’ ☹️

“does he know i’m 6’2?” niki demands

jungwon is fidgeting like a toddler, “jake..” he mutters with a pout, “what a lame name!”

“wh— you guys haven’t even met him! why’re you being so mean?!”

you were a little oblivious

literally the day after that it just so happENEd that jungwon and niki strolled into your bakery just as jake had a few minutes ago

for some reason the two idiots are wearing their CROWNS ???

poor jake is just 🧍 as they walk over to give you a hug

which also gives you the chance to ask them what the hell they’re doing

“we’re asserting dominance y/n,” niki explains

jungwon facepalms but still nods in agreement when you look his way

jake tries his best to offer a smile “so.. who’re you guys?”

“they’re the princes of the yang and nishimura family!” you announce to him proudly

“yeah, her boyfriend,” niki wraps his arm around your shoulder, eyes squinted in intimidation

“boyfriends!” jungwon corrects quickly

jake was never seen in your bakery again 💔

this was supposed to be soft hours for 1.8k followers but jshjdnc guys send more fantasy aus like this its so fun

425 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 1 month

Text

Don't Blame Me Ch 3

Joe Velasco x reader warnings: language, cigarettes, alcohol, sexually charged situations, something lowkey shifty kinda going on but that comes with the territory of the au lol. interested to see if y'all pick up on a few things or not lol

“Hey!” Grace managed to catch you waiting for the light to change, “you headed to the subway?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a smile, “you usually head South, where’re you off to?”

“Figured I’d finally cash in on that free spin class, it’s for two, you wanna come?”

“I think I’d rather die.” You laughed back, pulling one from her too, “you know bikes aren’t my thing. Let me know when you go back to that boxing class though.” Your attention redirected to your phone when it buzzed, pulling it from your pocket and you couldn’t help the smile on your cheeks as you read the message and swiftly typed one back.

“You know, you’ve been texting non stop today.” She pointed out, a slight excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, so?” Pocketing the phone you dug out a smoke, looking up at her as you lit it.

“And you’ve been pretty distracted.”

“You psycho analyzing me now?” You asked with a laugh and she rolled her eyes as the light changed and the two of you started to cross the street.

“You’ve been staring at your phone with a lovesick smile like some school girl with a crush.” She said dryly, “you didn’t take him back did you?”

“What!? Grace, c’mon, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Okay, okay. I just figured I should do my duty as best friend and remind you that he’s a complete pile of shit and you’re better off without him and if you ever even think about taking him back I’ll kill you both myself.”

“I thank you for that honour, but there’s no need to worry. I made a big enough mistake trusting him and accepting the apology in the first place. I should’ve known better than to believe the ‘it was only one time’ excuse.”

“Good.” She smiled, “so what mystery man have you been texting all day then?”

“What? I have not—” You fell flat, letting out a sigh in defeat, “I met a guy.”

“So you downloaded Tinder like I told you to?”

“No.” You laughed, “I’ve heard enough horror stories from you that I know that’s a bad idea.”

“Okay fine. So where’d you meet Mr. Rebound?”

“At a bar, and I’m not so sure he’s just a rebound.”

“Mm, so the sex is that good, hey?” She grinned and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I… wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t slept with him yet?”

“We’ve really only been on one date.”

“Fuck dating, you’re on the rebound and met a guy in a bar, the next play is taking him home to fuck that night.”

“Grace…” you warned, “it’s not like that. Jose’s a really sweet guy, super charming, incredibly attractive, I dunno, there’s something different about him.”

“Don’t most men want you to think that at the beginning?”

“Most men would’ve insisted on an alcohol fueled first date so they could get me in bed, not take me for pancakes and drive me home safely wishing sweet dreams.”

“Huh. You really have found wonder boy.” She snagged your cigarette to steal a puff, “please tell me you’ve at least kissed him.”

“Yes, and before you ask, twenty five outta ten. Absolutely no complaints whatsoever.”

“Let’s hope that correlates to the bedroom then.” She smirked and you smacked her arm, stealing the smoke back.

“You shouldn’t be smoking before a spin class, your lungs are gonna burn.”

“They’re gonna burn anyways.” She protested, grabbing it back, “besides, you can’t take it on the subway and I’ve got two blocks to kill.”

“Fine.” You surrendered, stepping off to the side before you leant in and the two of you kissed each other’s cheeks, “I’ll see ya.”

“I expect a full report on lover boy asap.”

“Copy that.” You gave her a mock salute before disappearing down the subway stairs and making your separate ways.

The Punch Bowl was only a few stops away and you figured it wouldn’t hurt to swing by for a drink after another long day. Considering it was a Tuesday evening you didn’t expect the bar to be that busy, and you were correct, a few regulars scattered throughout the room and a couple of college kids playing pool. You wandered up to a free seat near the corner of the bar and just as you were about to slip out of your coat to place it over the stool, you noticed Jose coming out from the back, joining the other bartender behind the bar. He glanced up and the moment he saw you a bright smile burst over his face while he beelined towards you.

“Hey hermosa.” He greeted, stepping up and leaning over the bar to pull you to him, greeting you with a deep kiss, his hand cupping your cheek. The very public affection made your cheeks heat and earned some cat calls from a couple of the regulars but you still kissed him back like no one was watching. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Likewise.” You replied with a small laugh as you settled in your seat, “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

“Among other things.” He shot you a devilish grin, sliding a beer toward you as he turned to the other bartender, “yo! Chilly!” The other man walked over, glancing between the two of you, “this is my girl.”

“Hey.” Chilly nodded, extending his hand out for a first bump.

“Hi.” You smiled softly, still feeling the heat in your cheeks as you tapped his knuckles with yours.

“You get her whatever she wants, alright? Even if I’m not around.” Joe looked from Chilly to you, “on the house.” He winked and you laughed.

“Glad I can finally put a face to the name Jose won’t stop yapping about.” Chilly teased and it was Joe’s turn to blush, smacking him gently.

“Yeah, why don’t you get back to work?”

“Someone has to, considering you’re not gonna get anything done ‘til she leaves.” He turned to you with a hand raised, “no offence.”

“None taken.” You laughed, smiling as you turned back to Jose, “you’ve been talking about me?”

“How could I not? Can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” He leant up against the bar, “how was your day? You eat? I could grab ya a burger, chicken tenders or something?”

“Chicken tenders sound great.” You replied with a smile and he shot you a dazzling grin before popping off to the computer to ring it in and returning to his perch against the bar. “Alright, food’s covered, now, did you have a good day?”

“Tedious.” You replied with a laugh.

“You know, you never told me what it is you do.”

“I’ve been thinking about taking some time off, having a ‘hot girl summer’ as they call it.” You both chuckled, “but I’m an editor to help make ends meet.”

“Yeah? Cool. Video, audio, photography?”

“Written word.” You replied, taking a swig of your beer, “can be a bit daunting or annoying at times, but it works.”

“Sounds alright. Guess you can work wherever you want then too?”

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, “I like the freedom.”

“So tell me more about this ‘hot girl summer’.” He grinned, his hand sliding across the bar top to take yours, gently playing with your fingers, “you think it might have some time for a pretty boy?”

“Oh, you’ve been crowned with the title of wonder boy now.”

Joe laughed, the grin staying on his face, “oh yeah? By who?”

“Grace, one of my friends.”

“So you’re out there talkin’ about me too then?” He teased and you felt your cheeks heat.

“Kinda hard not to when you’re so great.”

Smiling, Joe leant across the bar again, kissing you gently and you couldn’t help but relax at the touch, “I think I like pretty boy better.”

“Me too.” You laughed, “and to answer your question, yes. There is plenty of time for you during hot girl summer, after all what’s a hot girl without her pretty boy by her side?”

“You callin’ me your man now?” He grinned.

“You are, aren’t you?” You raised a teasing brow and he laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“You got it querida.”

“How long have you worked here?” You asked after another sip of beer.

“Since I got here.” He shrugged, “started out washing dishes or overnight cleaning, moved up to bus boy, kept climbing.”

“You always bartend?”

“Been a mix of that and workin’ the door, but Chilly and I run the place now.”

“You own?”

“Naw, Hector’s the owner, but he’s a chill guy, he’s from Jaurez himself, knows what it’s like. Helped get us out, get us set up with the gig here. He basically never stops in anymore unless it’s to have a drink, he trusts us.”

“Sounds like a good boss.”

“He is.” A bell chimed a couple of times from somewhere in the back and Joe pushed off the bar, “that’s probably your food, gimmie a sec.”

He disappeared for a couple of minutes, returning later with a steaming basket of chicken fingers and fries, an extra side of gravy in his hands that he slid across the bar to you.

“These smell amazing.”

“I dunno what they put in them but they’re the best I’ve ever had.” He commented, snagging a fry and dunking it in the gravy before eating it. “You have plans this weekend?”

“Not really.” You ate a couple of fries, “I’m picking up a couple of finals papers over at NYU on Thursday but I’ve got three weeks ‘til they need them back.”

“Why not do it electronically? Save you the trip?”

“I make ‘em pay me with cash, that way everything’s under the table and the IRS can’t get me for it.”

“Smart girl.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I’m scamming the system?” You raised a brow.

“Fuck the system.” He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “why do you think we only accept cash here?”

“Fair point.” You laughed, happily accepting another kiss before turning back to your food, “you have plans this weekend?”

“Gotta check in here a couple of times but I wanna take you out.”

“What’ve you got in mind?”

“Something fun, wanna show you off, make everyone else jealous.” He beamed and you felt a warmth bloom through your chest at his words.

“Oh yeah? Casual or fancy?”

“Oh casual.” He laughed, “what? You think I’m one of those Park Avenue boys?”

“Not at all.” You smiled, “that’s what I like about you.”

“Good.” He grinned, “cause after I take you out I wanna take you home. Show you just how much you drive me wild, how badly I can’t wait to get my hands on you, how good I can make you feel, you’ll be screaming my name, I just know it.”

“Jose!” You quietly scolded, your cheeks burning as you ducked your gaze, glancing around the bar, praying no one was listening in.

“What?” He asked quietly, leaning in closer to not be overheard, “you’re really telling me you haven’t thought of me while you were alone in your bed, tangled in the sheets while you start to let those pretty hands wander? Weren’t picturing me while you fucked yourself?”

“Oh my god…” you muttered and he chuckled, pinching at your chin before he stole a kiss.

“You wouldn’t be blushing so hard if you hadn’t.” He pointed out and you scoffed, attempting to shoot him a glare, “don’t worry querida, you’re not alone. I can’t get you outta my head.”

“Hey!” a voice called out from the other end of the bar and you finally felt some relief with Joe’s gaze off you. Chilly motioned to him, nodding toward the back hall and Joe pushed off the bar.

“I gotta go take care of something, get Chilly to grab you a refill.”

“Yeah.” You barely managed to look up at him, but he still managed to send you a wink before he disappeared around the corner with a smug grin and you were left shifting uncomfortably in your seat thinking about all the things you wanted him to do to you.

You finished your food, thanking Chilly for the refill of beer when he cleared your plate and you dug your phone out of your pocket. A few minutes of scrolling social media before you were bored and opened up your messages, selecting Grace’s contact.

‘Hey, I know we’re supposed to go for drinks on Saturday but can we push it to next week?’

‘This better be because wonder boy’s taking you out.’

‘That’s exactly why. And you should know he’s already made some very promising guarantees about what happens when he takes me home.’

‘Fuck YES! Get it girl.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘If it means you finally get laid, absolutely not. I’m off Wednesday, we can do drinks Tuesday night?’

‘Yeah that works.’

‘Perf. I cannot wait to hear every single dirty detail.’

‘You’re a fucking perv.’

You shook your head with a small laugh as you locked your phone, placing it back down on the bar and picking up your drink. Joe returned from the back a few minutes later, this time he circled around the bar, wrapping around your back and nuzzling into your neck. The scruff on his chin tickled your bare skin and you shivered, pulling a chuckle from him before he placed a kiss on your neck.

“You have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you?” He husked into your ear and you giggled.

“I think I can tell.” You turned your head, your fingers tilting his chin toward you so you could steal a kiss, Joe went in for another one that was only broken by the sound of your phone buzzing on the bar top.

‘You love me’

You swiftly typed back a message,

‘Yeah when you’re not being a fucking pain in my ass.’

“That Grace?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. She’s already hounding me to kiss and tell.”

“Here.” He reached out and you passed him the phone, watching as he swiped open the camera app and turned it to selfie mode. “May as well show her what she’s missing.” He teased, nestling right into your side again to snap a couple of pics.

He tickled at your side with his free hand, pulling a laugh from you right as he kissed your cheek and captured a couple of candid’s before kissing you gently. He then selected a few and sent them off to Grace before handing you back the phone. The device was barely back on the bar top a second before it was buzzing again.

‘Holy fuck you weren’t kidding, he’s a smoke show!!!’

Jose chuckled, leaving a kiss beneath your ear, “you tell her I’m good looking?”

“May have mentioned it.” You replied with a laugh, managing to steal a kiss before Chilly appeared behind the bar, motioning Joe over.

“Hector called, Jorge has another shipment coming in, needs the payment and wants you to do inventory.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“You sure?” He gestured between the two of you as Jose walked back around the bar, “you know he doesn’t like unexpected company?”

“Relax.” Joe laughed, as the other man passed him something under the bar top, “I’m walking her home, it’s on the way.” You took the time to slip off the stool, sliding your phone back into your pocket and taking out your wallet, missing Joe tuck whatever it was Chilly passed him into the back of his pants. “Tell him I’ll be there in twenty.” He rounded back around the bar, “you ready?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, “but I have to pay?”

“Nah, you’re on the house now, remember?” Joe grinned and you rolled your eyes, pulling out a twenty to toss down onto the bar top.

“Thank you Chilly.”

“Anytime Chica.” He smiled as he picked up the bill, “you make sure this one gets you home safe, alright?”

“I’m sure he will.”

Joe was quick to grab your hand in his as the two of you made your way out of the bar and into the night street. Your conversation was limited as you walked, simply happy to be together and around each other again. A sense of warmth soothing around both of you, sparks firing off each time Joe’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, butterflies in your stomach every time he raised your hand to his lips to kiss. You were at your apartment door before you even realized.

You stopped, turning back to Jose to say goodnight, your hands resting on his waist as you stepped closer to him. His hands gently wrapped around your wrists, guiding them upwards over his chest as he pulled you to him before his hands settled on your waist. He leant down, kissing you softly, humming at the feeling of your nails gently scratching at the back of his neck. You pulled yourself deeper into his embrace and his tongue slid across the seam of your lips, waiting only a second before your lips parted and you let out a soft moan into the kiss.

“Fuck…” he muttered, “hate to leave you like this.”

“Sounded important.” You murmured back, kissing him again, “besides, this leaves me with a little bit of inspiration.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked down at you, “you gonna head upstairs and pretend it’s me between your legs?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“Send me a pic.” He ducked down, nipping at your neck and your breath caught in your throat “I’ll let you know exactly what I’d do if I was with you.”

“I think that can be arranged.” You smiled, a near whine escaping your lips when he bit into your neck again.

“Good girl.” Jose’s fingers came up to cup your chin, redirecting you into another deep kiss before he reluctantly stepped away from you. “You better get going querida.”

“Good night Jose.”

With one last lingering look, you finally disappeared through the doorway and into the elevator and Joe was free to continue on his way through the night. He heard his phone ping no less than five minutes later and opened the text.

“Fuck…” He felt himself twitch in his pants at the sight of you adorned in baby pink lace, chest practically spilling out of your bra, camera angled so that he could see your ass. He was about to type a reply when another image popped up, this one of your hand slipping into your panties and he let out a low groan, “that’s not even fair.” He grumbled, but realized he’d dug his own grave.

‘You’re too good to me.’ He typed back, ‘now get those fingers nice and wet for me baby.’

Taking a deep breath he pocketed his phone and continued on his way. This would have to wait until he got home and he could properly take care of things. He couldn’t help but grin as he rounded the corner, shaking his head at just how unbelievable perfect you were.

_______________

@witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @momlifebehard @dondivajade @misscharlielulu @alexxavicry @rosaliedepp @legit9thlunaticwarrior @daffodil-heart @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @silversprings-mp3 @blackbird-brewster

#joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #don't blame me #law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #jose velasco #joe velasco au #law and order svu au

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literary-illuminati · 9 months

Text

Book Review 46 – The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

Okay the month of August was essentially a write-off for...a lot of things, but non-web serial reading among them! Now trying to claw my way out of the pit and back on the horse. So, some high concept genre fic full of queer people and war crimes, just what the doctor ordered.

The Spear Cuts Through Water is the fantasy epic and love story of a pair of warriors – one a generally despised one-armed checkpoint guard, the other a positively reviled princeling – as they escort the moon goddess in her attempt to escape the prison her sons had trapped her within as they tyranize and empire that spans a continent. As told through a dream/vision of the Inverted Theater, where shades throughout time are called while they sleep to witness a performance put on by the favoured child of moon and sea. Intercut with the same tale as told through out POV’s grandmother, along with vignettes of his life as the son of a failing cloth merchant centuries in the future as the world goes through its equivalent of WW1. All this metaness and layering is either the book’s strongest point or it will make your eyes roll back into your skull so, you know, make an informed choice here.

Being entirely honest I don’t remember exactly how this book ended up on my radar – I believe I was first pointed towards after I expressed some dissatisfaction with this year’s Hugo nominees as something that would have been a more deserving inclusion on the short list. Certainly I’d never heard Jimenez’s name before picking it up. Entirely happy I did, anyway – whoever first rec’d it yes, this does deserve a Hugo nod way more than some of the other nominations.

The plot itself is quite well done, but absent any of the stylistic flourish wouldn’t really have been anything that memorable. The layered framing devices – and the way that they intrude on the narrative in a hundred different ways, switching from depicting the action to saying how it was staged and presented or how the narrator heard the tale told – are really just fantastically well done, enough that even when it got all meta and self-referential I was still enjoying it more than enough to just go with it.

Not that our heroes aren’t fun in their own right. They’re both at times profoundly unlikable, and other times utter idiots, and always totally and completely incapable of intelligibly expressing their feelings. It’s great, love them. Even if on occasion I also wanted to throw rocks at them. The main supporting cast – or at least Defect the tortoise and the moon/empress herself – are even better, really.

Though as far as characterization goes its the extras where the book really shines. It has a trick I really, really like where little snippets of the internal monologue or history of some fellow traveller on the road or sentry being gutter from behind are interspersed into the action in italics like this. Diegetically this would be the chorus in the theatrical performance, but regardless it does a shocking amount to make the world feel like it’s full of actual people and not just mannequins forming a backdrop for the characters who matter.

The book fits into the honourable tradition of modern SFF with cool-eyed and unsentimental portrayals of feudalism/imperialism, war crimes and general oppression (including in this case very plot-relevant and character-informing ableism) but only a vague and attenuated sort of 21st century homophobia, if that. Like all modern queer genrefic it’s also at least kind of in conversation with the looming shadow of Burying Your Gays, with a bait and switch tragic heroic sacrifice that seemed very conscious and pointed.

The framing devices lend themselves well to the book being written in a kind of mythic register, which I very much enjoyed. The epilogue felt like an intrusion of history on mythology, and I do mean that as a compliment, full of messiness and ambiguity and short on heroes and golden ages or utopias. Overall very much enjoyed the book, perfect reading for being stuck in a waiting room for a passport renewal.

#the spear cuts through water #simon jimenez #sff #map fantasy #book review

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 3 months

Text

I’m a lover, boy

by GayJinkies

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Eddie Munson has a dick piercing, what a tag to start off with, First Time Blow Jobs, Blowjobs, Doing it for the dare, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington speedruns his sexuality crisis, Himbo Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, They’re both disasters folks, ”I’m not gay but I wanna blow you anyway” type disasters, Crack, This is dumb as hell I’m so serious, Smut, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, They’re idiots your honour, Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, but more like morons to lovers, a sprinkle of angst for flavour, Dacryphilia, like big time, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, Sub Steve Harrington, give the guy a break he’s just now figuring out what he’s into Words: 13,425 Chapters: 3/3

Summary

“Uh.” Harrington’s eyes are darting up to Eddie’s face and back down to his clasped hands, over and over. “So. I was — but it’s not like that, y’know? Because I’m — and I just wanted to —“ “Harrington,” Eddie interrupts, scowling. “Stop wasting my time. Spit it the fuck out.” Harrington glares at him, eyes narrowing. “Fine. Fine.” He pauses, biting his lip, before saying, “Are you gay?” Eddie’s blood runs cold. His brain stalls. “Uh. I don’t think I understand.” Harrington throws his head back in frustration, cursing under his breath at the sky. The movement ruffles his hair, strands curling around his ears as he looks upwards. When he looks back to Eddie, he says, very slowly, “I was hoping you were gay, Munson, so I could give you a blowjob and prove to myself that I’m good at it.” —— Or; the basketball team unanimously votes that Steve would be the worst at giving a blowjob. Steve wants to test the truth of that with the only guy he knows might be down to help - Eddie Munson.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #multi-chaptered #10-25k #au no upside down #enemies to lovers

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annoyinglandmagazine · 1 year

Text

Lesbian Halenthir prt 9

‘Tell me about your brothers. Do I need to worry about them trying to kill or declare war on me for breaching your honour?’ ‘Not unless you do something stupid. Kano got cheated on a few years ago and no one’s seen that guy since.’ Haleth wrapped her arms around Caranthir’s waist and Caranthir let out a sigh of contentment as she settled her head on Haleth’s stomach from her place lying between her legs. ‘Well I don’t need to worry then.’ ‘You do stupid things all the time.’ ‘Not to you.’ Caranthir went quiet as if not sure how to respond before changing the subject.

‘The twins are the youngest. They’re just the babies, no one takes them seriously even though they’re several thousand years old. Amme called them Ambarussa. Yes both of them. We call them Pityo and Telvo most of the time, though the shared name is helpful considering most people can’t tell them apart. Then we have the three Cs of which I, unfortunately, am part. Also known as the problematic middle children.’ At this Haleth let out a giggle, ‘you’re a middle child?’ ‘The middle child actually. Fourth born.’ ‘That explains so much.’ Caranthir reached up to playful jab her arm only to be met with further giggles.

‘Anyway, the younger, Curvo, is basically a carbon copy of Atar. Creepy little arrogant genius. He’s closest with my older brother Tyelko, who literally just enjoys shooting things and being an idiot. Also annoying. They’re conjoined at the hip it’s really weird.’ ‘Are you close with them too?’ ‘Well I don’t like them. We’ve always spent a lot of time together. We spend most of it riling each other up but still. They’re more my brothers than the others to be honest. The older ones were always more like parents and the younger ones just need protecting.’

’What about the older ones? Was one of them king for a while? I’m not entirely sure how the succession works but they should have been high on it right?’ ‘They were both actually.’ And Haleth could tell she’d broached a difficult subject. ‘Nelyo is the oldest. He’s always sort of looked after us. He was good at it. We always went to him when-’ and here she cut off taking a few deep breaths ‘He got- taken a while ago. He hasn’t been the same since we got him back. He couldn’t continue ruling afterwards. While he was- gone, Kano took over for a bit. Kano wasn’t really cut out for that sort of thing. He’s more gentle than the rest of us. A musician, not a warrior.’

For a race that sounded so mystical and above everyone they sounded more like people than Haleth expected. A family that laughed and suffered together, like so many she had known. People forced into positions they were not ready for like she herself was. Caranthir’s fond tone of voice when talking about them, showing that despite everything she seemed to dislike being away from them. Caranthir seemed sad even talking about them so Haleth decided to change the subject.

‘They all sound like they have more than one name, do you as well?’ Caranthir latched onto the topic clearly very happy to have been given an opportunity to talk about it, as if she wasn’t normally meant to. ‘Well my birth names are Carnistir and Morimiriel. Moryo, for short.’ ‘Morimiriel’ Haleth repeated relishing every syllable on her tongue. ‘Why do you introduce yourself as Caranthir then?’ ‘The language of my people has been banned so we had to translate our names to Sindarin.’ This was definitely a topic she had a lot to say on. She let it go though smiling shyly ‘you should stick to Caranthir in public, it’s a politically charged situation. But I wouldn’t mind if I were to be called by the names given to me when it’s just the two of us.’

’I think I can manage that my darling Carnistir.’ She kissed the elf’s shoulder and gazed with a swell of sudden emotion as she drifted asleep with a gentle smile on her face.

#Silmarillion #tolkien #female caranthir #lesbian halenthir #halenthir #haleth #sons of feanor #lesbians #daughter of feanor #genderbend

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jackalopes-pen · 6 months

Text

Chapter 5: Perspective

Summary: Pete is noticing that Stan has been inconsistent, and it’s starting to get him paranoid.

Characters: Stan Marsh, Pete Thelman, Michael (No last Name)

Word Count: 867

Previous [Laughter] | [Debriefing]

A/N: I genuinely think what little traction I had is gone. Just kind of a void account until I get noticed by someone bigger. Whatever though, I’m still doing this.

School fucking sucks. It’s not as if that’s some revolutionary take, but it was practically Pete’s mantra for the entirety of this. It felt like no one could just shut the fuck up about how ‘lucky’ he was to be a kid from the East District allowed to go the preparatory school. Some fucking deal to tolerate rich assholes and have his scholarship questioned every other day. It felt like everyone at home was up their own ass about ‘the four lucky kids’ who got some ‘great honour’, and everyone here says he doesn’t belong.

Sometimes, when he gets shoved in the halls and called every synonym for poor you can think of, he wishes he didn’t apply. That damn literary scholarship is the only reason he’s here and not with the people he knows. One stupid essay and a poem later, now this is his life. But if he didn’t then his closest friend would be alone with a bunch of preppy a-holes so it’s difficult to say he wouldn’t even if he knew what would happen. Poor guy was completely isolated and came back with bruises or marks every day. It was horrible to watch, especially as Pete saw a once confident and nonchalant man become closed-off and trapped in his own thoughts. All alone…

Speaking of, he’s been sitting alone at this library for the better part of five minutes and that tall bastard he did this for still hasn’t shown up. They have an idiot they’ve been forced to tutor, where the fuck is he?!

Michael suddenly came in, absolutely drenched in water, feathers, and glitter, He looked completely pissed off. “Not. A. Word.”

Pete can barely contain his laughter. Michael looks like a wet bird, still dripping on the ground. He lets himself laugh to get it out but quickly regains composure. Pete pats the seat next to him.

“So… why?” Stan asked tentatively.

“None of your business, conformist.” Michael sighs and shakes his head so it stops dripping.

“Oh sorry…” Stan sounds ashamed for asking. It’s probably sarcastic, anyway. People like him hold no sympathy for people like them. They’re different species, by his standards. They’re the assholes who do this kind of thing to people who are just trying to live.

“Why do you care? Let’s just get this over with.” Pete rolled his eyes.

After a painfully long session of teaching one idiot how to do the basics of poetry, Pete and Michael started on their way home. It's a long route, walking down to the subway, riding three stations, then walking about a mile until they get to their own section of the East District.

“I just don’t get it.” Pete said as they rode through the subway.

“Get what?” Michael said, glancing over. He was still trying to get the glitter off his clothes.

“That guy, Stan. First he’s all chatty and friendly, then he accuses you of being a vigilante, and then he pretends to be all concerned when shit happens. It’s just- confusing. I don’t get his deal.” Pete said, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “These damn privileged assholes, they’re just fucking weird.”

“I mean, yeah. But is that our problem?” Michael looked over at Pete then continued speaking “Why is it our business what some dickwad does?”

“If he’s trying to accuse us of being wanted criminals, then yeah. It is our business.” Pete hissed out.

“It’s like there’s an open case on it. He’s probably just like any other annoying prep, thinks the first poor person they see is a murderer.” Michael rolls his eyes. He’s probably right in all honesty, it’s just another classist.

They came to their stop on the subway, and shuffled out of the station. Walking out into a completely different area then they entered. Instead of nice, well kept buildings they’re old and dilapidated. Nothing is clean, nothing is safe. They try to avoid walking on broken glass, as they make their way to their homes.

It’s a little community of Slavic immigrants, with not enough from any one country to branch out. They just stick together and try to keep their languages and cultures alive in their children. It has too many damn names for anyone’s liking, Pete just decided to call it ‘The North’. He looked around at the various slavic flags hanging from windows and balconies, to find the polish flag. They all looked like the same poorly constructed tenant, it was the only distinct feature.

“See you around, man. Let me know if the glitter comes out.” Pete waved Michael off, who left without a sound apparently a while ago. “Oh… okay. Bye, dude.”

Pete walked up to the decaying apartment building, and climbed the steps to his apartment, with his Babcia Zuzanna. He waved her a quick hello and flopped down on the couch, eager to sleep.

After a day of bullshit, annoyance, and with a lot to do later that night he just needed a nap. He needed to be unconscious for a while and rest before he had to deal with any more fuckery. Pete sighed into the couch and closed eyes. He fell asleep almost immediately.

#south park #south park fic #fan fiction #south park goth kids #sp goth kids #sp stan marsh #south park stan #south park pete #pete thelman #south park michael #red hair goth kid #michael tall goth kid #south park fractured but whole

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the-liminal-place · 2 years

Text

JUST PASSIN' THROUGH

You hold your own.

Can quick-draw

your baby brother's screams

in what some might call waking dreams stuffed

like choux pastry with those nasty little pigtails

you tie too tight with rubber bands (the ones the postman didn't care enough about),

pulling

that fine, fine hair

covered in snot

into stupid gathered fluffy tufts and you laugh

and you laugh

at the way it sprouts it's silly way out from that massive swede

they all call his head.

It's short-lived mirth then drowning in the wet, wet earth of muddy puddles mixed with verses of yet more piss-yellow whines

–Jesus fucking Christ, you're bored–

and, a happy accident,

it happens again.

Mum comes in, steamroller cola fizz-pop bang!

Trouble.

A piglet in muck, right in it, you are.

How it breeds around you, they say.

They're the fucking pigs.

It’s more like bleeding out, you reckon,

gushing out from taps that are your twice-scuffed knees and broken knuckles and too-round stupid, stupid face.

You can even feel it's warmth oozing out your eyes sometimes, your bruised-mauve and claret dripping peepers,

when you know that they're only really watering,

leaking in the east wind,

the freezing cold gusts your big bastard brother makes whenever he passes

you by and literally spits

in your one good eye—oh, no, they're both 20/20. But shit, that's your better side.

Cunt.

So you're off

blazing the trail to Mexico (into the centre of a faux fur shanty town in which you're supposed to grow in,

like a plant,

only the only

water 'round here is the ocean, The Great Dirty Grey, and you're not as prickly as a cactus, not yet, even though you've been practicing. A lot.

And anyway the sun's all wrong).

Fleeing now, you "borrow" your mother's mother's

tiny creamy pearls and string them 'round your stringy neck, a hangman's noose and

not quite right, no, never.

But they’re in lieu of. Something. An honour? A badge. Like, what? Like the one Pat Garrett got? Yeah. Not really real.

Just for show.

The Greatest Show on Earth.

And you've already stolen your father's outdoor smile and that hateful roll of his hazel eyes. Your own eyes, they're blue. Like absolutely nobody else in your family.

You plaster on a sneer, a roughcast pebble-dash you got while reading adult library books way past somebody's bedtime,

when the freight trains pass by slowly.

What a joke.

You don't have words but you guess you'll just impress upon them the hard, hard life you lead, with all of… this. You can pretend you're an apostle, who's to know otherwise?

None of them.

Slamming the door with all these old and new-to-you weapons, nestled low in their makeshift holsters—

and okay, it's not exactly an arsenal but shit, you're only fourteen.

It's not like the war is ending anytime soon.

No fuckin way.

Once clear (road parallel to the main street, you're not an idiot),

you use giant Cook's kitchen matches

to sulpher light the smokes; duty-free ciggies with bright orange filters that the neighbour gave to you just because you took the time to talk to the old dear.

No one else can seem to stand her, honestly. Her own husband only comes by on Wednesdays and Sundays. Never even sees her own kids. We'll, that's what she says.

Whether anybody likes you or not you're on your own sweet way. Kicking

up metal horse dust on your lonesome path to Don Pepe's Saloon

(It's a tacky shot bar. You won't go in, you'll hang around outside and smoke these stinkers as if you're waiting for someone. Flash these new tits you absolutely fucking hate. But so fucking what).

Shiny sneaker spurs

now drag

through the wet sand salt-dirt that settles

on everything, crystalline on

your shrink-wrap skin

your nana's charms

your daddy's grin

your wild, wild desperation

your. Something.

(You're wrong.)

And you lose, again, with your home stuck to your soul like your least favourite flavour of bubble gum.

Fuck.

Off.

There's yet another stray barking in one of forty-three-thousand labyrinthine alleyways and when you stop to stroke it and it gnashes at your hand, you actually find yourself jealous of it.

Ha. That's sad.

And. It's not as if if you're not trying.

You do try.

You really fucking try,

it's just.

All so fucking WANK.

Tripe.

Tripe butties dipped in dog shit gravy.

Man , you don't even know what it is that's so fucking awful.

What the fuck is that about?

You sometimes find yourself wishing God were real.

Wowee.

That’s how fucking bad it is.

Sighing now, a song, long and loud with a drawn-out chorus, just like the real people never do, you start to take only half-lungfuls of the Good Sea-Air.

You're saving up

for your real life.

For what's to come.

You walk on.

Right past the harrowing saloon.

Fuck it. Fuck that.

Because it's not as if you're here to stay

anyway.

No real friends to make like hay bails used to climb to the top shelf in the big barn to hide away from your pious Pa and his rusty pitchfork.

Your name's not Backwater Sal. Or Tommy "Tuck" Tucker.

You, you're just passin' through.

A drifter.

Cowboy in a town with no damn prairies. Hell (well, almost).

And, again, you find yourself back

at the Big Drink you always say you hate.

What a fucking joke.

You twirl your one key on twelve keyrings,

shit slinger.

“It's almost High-noon”

you chant like crazy under your partial breath on your way out

to your way out,

the coming tide,

to the arse-end of Nofuckingwhere.

You fuckin wish.

#poems #poetry #poets of tumblr #just passin' through #coming of age #trans #transmasc #trans poetry #trans poet #cw body dysmorphia #tw suicide ideation #liminal words #the liminal place

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phoenixduelist · 2 years

Note

✔

Send a ✔ for this meme

Acquaintance:

Friendship:

Lover:

Married/dating:

Sibling/platonic:

Enemy:

#🦇 count v dracula⚡️| aren't we the different sides of the same coin? to your veil of night; l have sunlight as cape

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cicero-the-assassin · 2 years

Note

✔ from Lian!

Send me ✔ and I’ll bold what my muse would do with/for yours

@twistedhxart

Acquaintance:

Friendship:

Lover:

Married/dating:

Sibling/platonic:

Enemy:

#twistedhxart #ayakoito #OOC #Lucio

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grigori77 · 2 years

Text

Soundtrack of My Life (Part 2)

A few years back I did a rundown of my TOP TEN ALL TIME FAVOURITE BANDS, the ten bands that MOST made me the (relatively) well-rounded music fan that I am today (granted, a lot of it’s rock and metal, but there’s other stuff in there too), and it was good. But then at the end I realised there were LOADS more bands that I really loved, that ALSO made me the music fan I am today to lesser but no less important) degrees, and so at the end I gave an “honourable mentions” list, resolving that sometime I’d come back to clebrate some more of them. Well, that time has COME, bitches! XD Yeah ... anyways, here we go, part 2, the next ten on the list, with more to come sometime in the future too ...

(Once again, in no particular order)

PEARL JAM

fave tracks: Black, Man of the Hour, Yellow Ledbetter, Better Man, Sirens, Jeremy, Dance of the Clairvoyants, Just Breathe, Even Flow, Given To Fly, Elderly Woman Behind the Counter In a Small Town, Daughter, Nothingman, Release, Thumbing My Way, Retrograde, The Fixer, Do the Evolution, All Those Yesterdays, Dissident, Superblood Wolf Moon, Why Go, Corduroy, World Wide Suicide, Nothing As It Seems, I Am Mine, Once, Breakerfall, Low Light, Mind Your Manners, Of the Girl, Seven O’Clock, Marker In the Sand, Future Days, Around the Bend, Alive

fave album: Ten

Oh, these magnificent buggers ... I was just getting into my teens when grunge got into full swing, and while I liked Nirvana and loved Pixies and all that stuff, the bands that I REALLY flipped over from that scene were the ones that did something a little different, a bit more melodic, a bit more INTERESTING. Top of the pile, for me, have ALWAYS been these guys, and their incredible staying power has really been a testiment of WHY I love ‘em all SO MUCH. Most of all, though, it’s powerhouse frontman Eddie Vedder, a truly beautiful human being with one GODLIKE voice ...

GREEN DAY

fave tracks: Jesus of Suburbia, Longview, Geek Stink Breath, Hitchin’ a Ride, ¡Viva la Gloria!, She’s a Rebel, When I Come Around, Meet Me On the Roof, Platypus (I Hate You), Minority, Panic Song, Basket Case, 86, Whatsername, See the Light, She, Brain Stew, Nice Guys Finish Last, Sassafras Roots, Give Me Novocaine, Revolution Radio, King For a Day, Walking Contradiction, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Uptight, Pulling Teeth, Holiday, F.O.D.

fave album: American Idiot

While The Clash are definitely my favourite of the original old school punk bands, there’s no bunch of hard-rocking ne’er-do-wells that I love more than THIS LOT, a trio of adorably, unapologetically anarchic little degenerates who helped me keep from taking everything TOO seriously when I was growing up. No matter where I go in my musical odyssey, this is one band that I ALWAYS come back to in the end.

FIGHTSTAR

fave tracks: Hazy Eyes, Floods, The English Way, Overdrive, Mono, Deathcar, The Whisperer, Where’s the Money Lebowski?, Amaze Us, Paint Your Target, Sharp Tongue, Palahniuk’s Laughter, The Blackest of Birds, Tannhauser Gate, Zihuatanejo, War Machine, You & I (feat. Rachel Haden), Amethyst, Titan, Tonight We Burn, I Am the Message, Grand Unification Parts I & II, Follow Me Into Darkness, More Human Than Human

fave album: One Day Son, This Will All Be Yours

Way back in the early Noughties, when pop music was largely shite and boy bands were a serious business, one particular bunch seemed like a particularly worrying cash-in attempt to do the same with rock music, Busted beind the top offender for me. Imagine my surprise, then, when years later one of that band’s members, vocalist and guitarist Charlie Simpson, went off to do his own thing and FORMED A VERY SERIOUS METAL BAND. I scoffed ... but very quickly choked on my words. These guys are AWESOME. Edgy, offbeat, surprisingly playful and massively geeky fans of sci-fi, they’re VERY ME. I wait with bated breath for their overdue return ...

SARA BAREILLES

fave tracks: Gravity, Love Song, Machine Gun, Sweet As Whole, She Used To Be Mine, Cassiopeia, If I Dare, Poetry By Dead Men, City, Breathe Again, One Sweet Love, You Matter To Me (feat. Jason Mraz), Bright Lights and Cityscapes, Armor, Brave, Uncharted, Come Round Soon, A Soft Place To Land (feat. John Legend), Stay, Kaleidoscope Heart, December, Orpheus, Everything Changes, I Choose You

fave album: Kaleidoscope Heart (almost a dead heat with Little Voice, though)

Another one of my musical crushes, which I discovered around the same time as Florence Welch, but in some ways a very different artist (although JUST as talented). A pop-rock singer songwriter of almost unrivalled talent, with a wicked sense of humour and a beautifully complex, husky voice that just DOES THINGS to me.

A PERFECT CIRCLE

fave tracks: Gravity, Talktalk, 3 Libras, By and Down (Three Sixty version), Fiddle & the Drum, So Long & Thanks For All the Fish, Judith, The Outsider, Passive, The Doomed, The Nurse Who Loved Me, Orestes, Pet, Hourglass, Imagine, Weak & Powerless, Magdalena, Disillusioned, Counting Bodies Like Sheep To the Rhythm of the War Drums, Breña, The Contrarian, Blue, Thinking of You, Delicious, The Noose

fave album: Eat the Elephant

Another list, another Maynard James Keenan band (least that’s how it feels sometimes XD). But yeah, Tool may be one of my vary favourite bands OF ALL TIME, but his side-project with Billy Howerdell, along with Danny Lohner and Smaching Pumpkins’ James Iha, creates some seriously top-quality alternative style prog rock in its own right.

EVANESCENCE

fave tracks: My Heart Is Broken, Wasted On You, Tourniquet, Missing, Call Me When You’re Sober, Made of Stone, The Game Is Over, Hello, Lacrymosa, Imperfection, The Change, Far From Heaven, Everybody’s Fool, Lithium, Blind Relief, Oceans, Your Star, Even In Death, The Other Side, Imaginary, Use Your Voice, Swimming Home

fave album: Evanescence

When I finally grew up (the early Noughties) and finally realised I didn’t need to belong to be who I am, I thought I’d left the whole goth thing that I’d been into in to 90s behind ... until I discovered Amy Lee and her fantastically dark, full-blooded music (not to mention her astounding voice, of course). They don’t release often, but this is becoming one of their great strengths - when they do, it’s ALWAYS gold.

DON BROCO

fave tracks: Further, Pretty, Manchester Super Reds No. 1 Fan, Fingernails, Technology, Superlove, Action, You Wanna Know, Whole Truth, Nerve, T-Shirt Song, Bruce Willis, Hold On, Stay Ignorant, Half Man Half God, Gumshield, Money Power Fame, Got To Be You, One True Prince, Everybody, Let’s Go Back To School, The Blues, I Got Sick, Endorphins

fave album: Technology

My favourite of the new breed of English alt rock bands that’s emerged in the last ten years, this thoroughly mental Bedford quartet are one of the most unusual, oddball and thoroughly brilliant up-and-coming groups knocking about right now. Chunky beats and power chords, quirky vocalwork and a brilliantly bonkers sense of humour mean these guys are about the most fun you can have in music these days.

PINK FLOYD

fave tracks: Sorrow, Comfortably Numb, Shine On You Crazy Diamond, High Hopes, Time, Run Like Hell, Wish You Were Here, Fat Old Sun, Coming Back To Life, Brain Damage/Eclipse, Us And Them, What Do You Want From Me, Keep Talking, Welcome To the Machine, Another Brick In the Wall, Learning To Fly, A Great Day For Freedom, The Great Gig In the Sky, On the Turning Away, Take It Back, Money

fave album: The Dark Side of the Moon (The Wall a close second)

The undeniable masters of prog rock, one of the greatest bands of all time, and one of the biggest influences even on more than a few of my favourite artists plying their trade today. These guys were consistently OUT THERE, and also very frequently downright ASTOUNDING, not least in the undeniable magic ingredient that is the greatest guitarist of all time, the legendary David Gilmour.

R.E.M.

fave tracks: Strange Currencies, Me In Honey, Driver 8, Pop Song 89, The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight, Fall On Me, Carnival of Sorts, What’s the Frequency Kenneth?, Superman, Radio Free Europe, King of Birds, Sweetness Follows, Finest Worksong, Country Feedback, Daysleeper, Leave, Talk About the Passion, Hyena, Orange Crush, Can’t Get There From Here, Ignoreland, Disturbance At the Heron House, The One I Love, Find the River, Tongue, New Test Leper, I Believe, At My Most Beautiful, Half a World Away, Swan Swan H, World Leader Pretend, Drive, Low, Cuyahoga, Lotus, So Fast So Numb, It’s the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)

fave album: Lifes Rich Pageant

There are really TWO R.E.M.s, the IRS Records era before they made it big, and this breakaway big hit stuff that came along after they released Losing My Religion. I love their WHOLE back catalogue (although I’d probably choose the earlier stuff if forced), because they were ALWAYS brilliant, the best of the early post-punk wave of alternative rock bands to come out of America (and EASILY the strongest contemporaries for The Cure, as far as I’m concerned.

PVRIS

fave tracks: Half, Holy, Use Me, Are You Ten Years Ago, What’s Wrong, Things Are Better, Chandelier, Only Love, Gimme a Minute, Seperate, St Patrick, Heaven, You and I, Hallucinations, Same Soul, Dead Weight, White Noise, Empty, Monster, Nola 1, Ghosts, Thank You (feat. RAYE), Heaven

fave album: All We Know of Heaven, All We Need of Hell

And last by BY NO MEANS last, the awesome Lynn Gunn and her magnificent alternative electro rock extravaganza (yeah, I know they’re technically a three-piece, but Lynn has since - quite rightly - come out as being THE MAIN PERSON behind Pvris). Brilliantly experimental, constantly evolving and always DEEPLY affecting, dominated by Lynn’s irrepressible weapons-grade musical talent. This girl is destined for GREAT THINGS INDEED ...

#Pearl Jam #green day #fightstar #Sara Bareilles #A Perfect Circle #evanescence #don broco #pink floyd #R.E.M.#pvris

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augustinewrites · 3 years

Text

Sakusa Kiyoomi likes to think he’s a decently smart man.

He’d completed his undergrad with honours, whilst also being active in the collegiate league— where he was even voted MVP. Sure he could be blunt with his words, but he didn’t do things impulsively or without careful thought. Like his plays in a match, everything he did in life was done strategically, deliberately, and consciously.

Which is why he shocks even himself when he approaches Miya Atsumu after practice, and says the four words he’d never thought he’d say:

“I need your advice.”

The gym falls silent. Everyone is staring at him.

Atsumu blinks. Hinata raises his brows. Bokuto freezes with his water bottle halfway to his mouth. Even Meian looks a little thrown.

“Hah?” Atsumu breaks the silence, pointing at his chest. “Me?”

Sakusa’s knee bounces impatiently. He doesn’t enjoy being in the center of attention like this. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“I mean, yea—” The setter’s voice is strained, and he pauses to clear his throat a few times. “—yeah. It's just, ya don’t usually ask me for advice, Omi. Ya don’t really ask for anything, actually, unless it’s ta ask me to shut up or stop doing somethin’.”

Oh, he’s dreading this so much already. “You’re right. I don’t think I should take advice from someone who sleeps on sheets with the thread count of a paper towel.”

That seems to snap Atsumu out of it, because he’s suddenly bouncing with excitement. “Wait, c’mon! I wanna help ya!”

Sakusa nods his head to the side, leading Atsumu a little away from where the group is doing their cool down stretches. He’s about to open his mouth when someone approaches in his peripheral.

“Are you guys okay?”

Of course it’s you.

“Yeah,” Atsumu answers before he can be told to shut up. “Omi-omi was about to ask—”

He jabs his elbow into the setter’s gut before he can finish his sentence. “We’re fine. Just chatting.”

You look a little confused, but nod anyway. “Okay. Sakusa, how is your wrist doing?”

“It’s good,” he tells you, truthfully. “It’s less sore after practices thanks to the extra stretches you recommended.”

You hum, scribbling something onto your clipboard before tucking it under your arm, pulling a fresh pair of gloves from your pocket and slipping them on before holding your hands out to him. “May I?”

He rests his hand in yours without hesitation, pointedly ignoring Atsumu, whose bewildered gaze bounces between the two of you.

(Sakusa knows that he’s going to say something stupid.)

He watches intently as you slowly rotate and flex his wrist, smiling a little when he catches the cute way your eyebrows furrow when you concentrate. “No discomfort or strain?”

“No.”

“Not even in your shorts?” Atsumu cuts in, not even trying to stifle his snicker.

(There it is.)

The stupid just can’t help but come out, and now Sakusa wants the earth to open up and swallow him whole almost as much as he wants to punch Atsumu in the face.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” you say with an awkward chuckle, releasing his hand to take a few more notes. (Sakusa thinks one of your best qualities is your ability to ignore Atsumu’s antics, which is a blessing given the current situation.) “Everything seems good, so I’m going to go check on Bokuto. Apparently his back has been a little tight.”

Atsumu nudges him as you walk away, making a noise that Sakusa thinks is a squeal. “That’s what you want my advice for, huh? You have a crush on—”

“Atsumu,” he mutters. “You’re too loud.”

He doesn’t lower his voice. Does he not realize that they’re in a gymnasium that echoes? “But you have a crush on—”

“Shut. Up.”

“A crush on—”

“Stop it.”

His teammate huffs pitifully, crossing his arms over his chest in a terribly childlike manner, then leans in to whisper shout in a single breath,

“You have a crush on our physiotherapist!” He looks like a six year old that’s been told Santa’s left presents under the tree. “Woo! Bokkun owes me and Hinata meat buns!”

Sakusa runs a hand down his face, groaning. Of course the idiots knew. “Yes, okay? I like her in a way that I initially assumed was platonic, but recently learned…was not.”

He’d never really known why Wednesday practices were his favourite. But now he knows it’s because you’re here, checking in and following up on he and his teams wellbeing. With your sweet smile and gentle touch.

His wrist had stopped hurting two weeks ago, but he’d been telling you otherwise in the hopes that he might one day have the courage to ask you out.

Which is where Miya Atsumu comes in.

He regrets this so much. He would have preferred to confide with Meian, maybe Inunaki, but it was no secret that Atsumu had the most success with women.

With a personality like his, he surely had to have an impeccable courting process.

Atsumu claps a hand on his shoulder. “And you came to me for sex advice, right? Smart choice! It’s okay if ya can’t always get it up right away, Omi. Sometimes ya just need to dive into the spank bank for a sec—”

“W— what?” He sputters, face suddenly hot. “No! I don’t have…performance issues.” (That he knows of.) “I just— I need to know how— I want —”

“Want what? Help askin’ her out?”

“Yes,” he breathes, relieved that he doesn’t actually have to ask.

“That’s it? Man, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” Atsumu scratches his head, shrugging. “I dunno, maybe just…ask?”

“Yes," he sighs impatiently. "But how?”

“Just ask! Have ya never asked someone out?”

Sakusa doesn’t answer. Google might have been more help.

Atsumu shakes his head a few times, muttering something incoherent that he’s sure is an insult. “Alright. Just go up to her, flex your muscles a bit, and give her your best line. Something like, ‘Can I take your temperature? ‘Cause you look hot today.’ And flash her a million yen smile.”

Sakusa pauses, considering this. “Is your courting ritual straight out of a shoujo manga?”

_____

You’re in the process of packing away athletic tape and foam rollers, chatting amicably with Hinata when he suddenly greets someone behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder reveals Sakusa, who is shuffling over to you with all the awkwardness of a shy teen.

You quickly stuff the last of the equipment into your bag, swiping your hands across your track pants before hauling yourself to your feet. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Sakusa hesitates, briefly glancing at Hinata. The single look is probably the most taciturn way you’d ever seen someone been told to ‘go away.’

Hinata gets the hint, scurrying off and for some reason shooting you a thumbs up behind his teammate’s back.

Sakusa briefly glances at your face. Then he stares at your shoes, the ceiling, the wall. He looks...stiff. Almost like he’s--

“Are you flexing?”

“No.”

You give an experimental poke to his bicep, which is, yup, rigid. “I studied visual anatomy and physiology, I think I know when a person’s flexing. What’s going on? Why are you flexing?”

A few feet away, you think you see Atsumu smack his forehead.

Sakusa’s body relaxes, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to ask you…” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, heaving a sigh before looking at you expectantly. “That’s all.”

Your brows furrow. “You didn’t finish your sentence, nothing came out of your mouth.”

He looks extremely pained for some reason. “Can I take your temp--”

Atsumu is suddenly at your guys’ side, grinning. “Omi-omi has a huge, giant crush on you. Will you please go out with him so he can stop faking wrist pain to talk to ya?” He smacks Sakusa on the side of the head when he tries to argue (a move you think he’s going to regret). “Shut it, scrub, we’ve been on the receiving end those nasty spikes the past few practices. Your wrist is fine.”

You turn to Sakusa, cheeks aflame and heart stuttering in your chest. “Is that...is that true?”

“I like you,” he says bluntly, but his tone is soft with a shyness that’s unfamiliar to him. His tall form is hunched, nervous as he awaits your response.

You smile, placing a quick kiss to his flushed cheek. “Then I'd love for you to take me to lunch.”

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #msby black jackals #haikyuu fic #augustinewrites

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