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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 44

Joyous Walpurgisnacht: Part II

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Please share your screams in my ask or a reblog!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Laufeyson returns with a second drink. You still have your first, nursing it as you find your head spinning with the activity all around. As more guests stream through, raucous as they meet others they know, the stage hums and the speakers crackle to life.

Bragi begins his set, a brief tidings for the event before he strums into a tune. You wiggle your foot to the beat, peering over at the full band behind the lead. It's all so big and bright.

You turn back, reaching for your glass, as Laufeyson draws from his own. He watches you over the brim, eyes traveling down your body, focusing on the movement of your foot. You still it and uncross your legs, setting your soles flat.

He puts his drink down, half-finished. You sit back and fold your hands in your lap, peering around evasively. He probably saw you slouching or was annoyed by your fidgeting. You blow out between your lips as the party blooms around you.

Voices thrum in ripples beneath the steady rhythms of the stage, hollers go up now and then, piquing your interest as you look over to see a group cluster. They stand around smaller tables framed by two chairs each. You can barely see those sitting at them moving small pieces around the board.

“Hnefatafl!” The cry goes up as Thor stands and the pieces scatter on the table before him. You quickly look away as his head pops up above his audience.

“An old game,” Laufeyson explains, “rather dry for an event like this.”

You raise your brows curiously. You’re almost tempted to ask him more but think better of it. He hardly seems interested. Distant thunks bring another roar from a crowd further down. You twist in your chair to see across the field large round boards set up. A man with blond hair hurls an axe towards the wood, embedding it. You flinch and face the table again.

“Chaos,” Laufeyson mutters.

“Yes,” you agree, your toe tapping on the grass until you stop it again.

You sink into a silence which exists only between you and him. The furor of the party crackles around you, circling you in a whirlwind. There in the eye of the storm, there is no sound. It is deafeningly hollow.

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat and tap on your shoulder brings you around. Laufeyson looks over your head, fixing his posture as you face Odin, “hiding in the corner?”

“Not exactly, father,” Laufeyson says, once more taking up his drink.

“There is much to enjoy. Your mother’s put in so much effort, I’d for her to see you glowering like this,” Odin reproaches.

“I do not glower,” his son snips.

“Mm, yes, well, you are more than welcome to wallow alone,” Odin replies flippantly, “but you needn’t cast a cloud over others…” he shifts to face you, opening a hand to you, “might I be so humbled as to request a dance from the lovely lady?”

You look up at him and your mouth falls open, “dance? I don’t know… how.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I must take it slow,” Odin insists, “it isn’t so hard to learn.”

Laufeyson sighs and drains the last of his whiskey. He stands abruptly, “I need to top up.”

Odin eyes him tensely but doesn’t remark. He looks back to you, “you don’t need to sit in his shadow all night. One dance, fair maiden of Walpurgisnacht, I see you can barely contain yourself.”

You look down as his gaze falls to your foot, once more wiggling. You still it and accept his hand. You hope Laufeyson isn’t too upset. It is only his father after all, he can’t be too put out.

“Thank you,” you stand and let him lead you away.

Odin brings you amid the other dancers, on a flat white floor laid out over the grass. He guides you to face him and helps you place your hands before he hooks an arm around you. He’s gentle but firm in leading you, counting with the rhythm between directing you how to move your feet.

“That’s it, dear, you’re a natural,” he praises as you let the music guide you, “and a beauty. That dress is very becoming, though it pales on you. You look immaculate…” he continues to sway with you, “my son is a fool not to say it himself.”

“Odin,” you look past him sheepishly.

“It is the truth. You are glowing and he is playing the troll, secreting you away from the light,” he tuts and shakes his head.

“It isn’t my party,” you utter.

“You belong here,” he insists, “don’t you think otherwise.”

“I am the house manager–” you rebuff.

“You aren’t,” he says, “my son didn’t get his senselessness from me. No, that is bred of mistrust. Fear, truly.”

“Odin, it’s true–”

“If he says it, it cannot be,” he counters, “when he looks at you, he is not looking at a house manager. He will claim I do not know him but he is my son. I see through him, it is only a pity he looks in the mirror and cannot do the same.”

You stare at the button of his vest. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to. You’re too afraid to think it could ever be true. Yet how can you tell him the truth? That would be humiliating. You are only half-right, your son wants more of me but only to sate his worst urges. It isn’t sentiment, it is convenience.

“Pardon,” a voice has you tripping over your own feet but Odin keeps you balanced, turning you as another figure stands close, “father, may I… take over?”

“Ah, but we are having such fun,” Odin taunts and twists you away from Laufeyson again.

“Yes, it seems so,” Laufeyson says thickly, “perhaps the next song…”

“Oh, don’t be so mopey,” Odin stops you as he chuckles, “I was only trying to pep you up, yes? It’s a party.” Odin raises your hand and kisses it gently, “thank you, dear, for humouring an old man.”

He stands straight and lets you go. He faces his son but you cannot see his expression, only the way Laufeyson’s eyes gleam back dangerously. Odin departs and Laufeyson’s attention flits onto you. He takes a step forward, once more looking you up and down.

The music ebbs and a new song begins. The soft plucking begins, then the reedy tone of a flute. Mr. Laufeyson offers his hand and you accept it, awkwardly coming closer as he sweeps his arm around you, his hand stretched over your lower back. He looks down to place his feet with yours before he begins. He is lithe and graceful, you feel otherwise.

“This is your song,” he says as the melody comes clearer.

You tweak an ear as you follow it, then lyrics begin.

“Moon River, wider than a mile…”

Your heart pulses in recognition. You smile towards the stage. You didn’t expect him to truly do it but it’s wonderful.

“I like it,” Laufeyson says, “it is very… whimsical.”

You turn your head straight, focusing on your footwork, careful not to trod his feet, “it is.”

He’s silent as you feel his gaze upon you, bearing down. He must be annoyed by how you follow his lead, uncertain in your body. How pathetic; never had a birthday cake, never had a dance. You look up and gulp shakily.

You almost stop dead in your heels as you see something less than agitated in his expression. He is fixated on you without a trace of chagrin. His hand shifts on your back, his other on your hip as you hold his shoulder and his upper arm. He is handsome in the dimming approach of the evening.

“When I said before that you look nice,” he begins, “I was remiss. You look… beyond anything I could ever put into words. You are magnificent, pet.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you stutter, “well, you look very handsome as well.”

“I am not looking for compliments,” he dismisses, “and I think I owe you more than that.”

You don’t know what to say. Is it an apology? You don’t know entirely what he means. He’s had three glasses of whiskey, just like that night, and in the morning, he was just the same as before. You won’t count on the kindness he finds at the bottom of a bottle.

A sudden flash makes you squeak. You look over as Yvonne smiles over the large lens. You give a nervous giggle and brace Laufeyson tighter. He sweeps you away from the camera.

“Tomorrow, we will talk,” he avows, “but we can enjoy tonight. It is Walpurgisnacht and it is a new beginning.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He winces and exhales, “can I be Loki for tonight?”

“Loki,” you echo, “yes.”

As the song ends, the heat speckling in your skin licks to flames. You don’t know if it’s being so close or his constant gaze or the thought of tomorrow and whatever you might talk about. You’re sweating and you're uncomfortable and you need a breath.

“Excuse me, um, I need the bathroom,” you gently pull away.

He reluctantly lets you go, his hand lingering on your hip as he points, “there, in the tents, I believe mother had facilities put up.”

“Thanks,” you offer a weak grin and step away from his grasp.

“I’ll be here,” he promises as you go.

You try not to hurry. You don’t want him to see how desperate you are to be away. It isn’t him, it’s you. This is all too much for you. It isn’t you. You’re not one of these people but they treat you like one. You’re just a poor girl born of cigarette ash.

You find your way to the tent housing the stalls. You take your time and try to collect yourself. Your nerves are tingling in your fingertips and where he held you; just along your lower back and your hip. It’s that urge that worries you, the one that made you think of resting your head on his shoulder.

You emerge and use the outdoor sinks set up in front of the stalls. You dry off and measure your breaths. You can do this. You go back down towards the fervour and as the night sets in, the large lights come to life and light the crowd.

You search the clusters of bodies. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? As you inch along the threshold, a shadow shifts to your right. You glance over but the figure disappears. You shake off the eerie sensation creeping down your spine and march forward into the tide of people.

You weave around bodies and tables, dizzy from the flurry all around you. You stagger as you’re nearly stampeded by a rowdy group of guests and you spin around to face a table in the far corner. There you find a scene that makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

You can’t stop yourself as you near the pair. Laufeyson, Loki, sits in a chair, two drinks on the table; his whiskey and another bright purple concoction. But beside him is Sif. She leans forward, her wrist clutched in his grasp as she whispers through the curve in her delicate lips. He stares back at her, eyes fiery, jaw locked.

“Loki, we had something good…” you hear her slither as you get closer. Her blue eyes dance over to you and her lips curl, “I still love you.”

She looks at him again and smashes her lips into his. He winces and turns his head, his gaze finding you as you stop, paralysed as you watch helplessly. You blink and swallow, wetting your lips as you bring your hand up to your sickened stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You turn and race away on clacking heels. You don’t look back as you elbow through bodies, running without direction, without escape. You just need to be away from it. All of it.

You find the pathway into the garden, plunging into the brush as your heels wobble with each step. You stumble and grunt in frustration. You stop and bend to unbuckle the shoes, tossing them away before you hurry on.

You find the stone gazebo, lit only by moonlight, and throw yourself inside. You land on a stone bench and hang your head in the frame of an arched window. You deflate as you hunch over, trembling so much it hurts.

You won’t cry. Why would you do that? It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Mr. Laufeyson only said you looked magnificent then turned around to kiss his ex-wife. And why wouldn’t she? She’s much more than you’ll ever be. She fits neatly into their puzzle.

“Ah, little maid,” the gazebo darkens as the moonlight disappears as if a clouds passed over the nocturnal guardian, “what is the matter?”

You sit up and shudder as Thor’s burly silhouette limns in silver. You brace the edge of the bench and stand.

“N-nothing, I was only… having a break, I should head back–”

“It is peaceful out here,” he says, unmoving as you gesture around him. He fills the entire doorway.

“Yeah, but er, I should–”

“How do you like Walpurgisnacht? Are you having fun?” He asks, propping and elbow against the stone.

“Sure, I guess.”

“And did you play any games?” he sneers.

You falter and lean back on one heel. You have a bad feeling. You wring your hands as the air breezes in, a shiver rattling you.

“No…”

“That is too bad. This is a day of fun! Games are fun, aren’t they?”

“Please, Thor, I have to get back–”

“Let’s play a game,” he ignores your protest and steps into the gazebo, “I know a special game.”

“Thor,” you croak as you glance towards the windows. You see the lights above the trees and hear the muted noise of the partygoers and Bragi’s tunes. You look back to him as he takes another step towards you.

“You can be the mouse…” he says, “and I shall be the cat.”

“No, please, I don’t want–”

“You best be nimble, mouse. for the cat is hungry,” he growls as he looms closer, “and ready to pounce!”

He lunges and you jump back. Your shoulder hits the wall and you cry out. You turn and feel around, nearly falling through the opposite doorway as your feet slip over the stone steps. You stumble at the bottom, slipping in the grass as twigs and stones poke into your bare soles.

You hear him behind you, laughing as he makes a steady but easy pursuit. You sprint across the small field towards the row of brush, skirt catching on bramble as you dive into the wilderness. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to get away.

Your feet slip on moss as dirty sticks to your skin. You puff as you pump your arms, glancing back over your shoulder frantically. He isn’t running, but he is coming. You can hear him laughing.

You swerve around, towards the noise of the party. You just need to get back there. You need to find a path. You don’t know where you are, the further you go, the more lost you are. The noises fade further and further. Oh god, wrong way!

Suddenly, your toe hits something hard and you nosedive forward. You don’t have time to get your hands up as your face crunches into a thick trunk and you collapse to the ground. You roll over as you taste iron on your tongue. Ow.

You sit up and touch your throbbing nose. As you plant your feet to stand, you hear a rustle and suddenly, you’re pushed flat to your back. Thor snickers as he holds you down by your shoulders, straddling you beneath him as he huffs.

“Ah, I’ve caught you, mouse,” he taunts as you squirm and whimper, “now the cat must feast.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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Death is very good being Normal (at least he thinks so)

The Thirteenth Prime is death, that is his function, his purpose. However in response to increasingly high counts of meaningless loss of life, he has taken on physical form to try and address the issue. Too bad he keeps getting wrapped up in side quests and friendship along the way.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Orion Pax was an odd one alright. Ratchet knew that the moment he saw Orion the first time at the archives.

The way he walked was almost as if gravity had no sway over him. His body language was near non-existent and Ratchet couldn't sense an EM field from him at all. The Archivist seemed to blend right into the background if one weren't paying attention and Orion didn't even seem bothered. If anything Pax appeared to be more shocked when he was noticed rather than when he wasn't. Not only that, but there was just something... of about him. His limbs were too long, his plating too jagged and placed in areas it really shouldn't have been able to develop. His optics were too wide, too bright, and lifeless despite their glow.

He was off, but Ratchet found himself intrigued all the same.

He vividly remembered the day he finally worked up the confidence to approach the mech. He requested aid finding a text he could have easily hunted down himself just to see how the Archivist would respond. Ratchet was left even more interested in Orion when all the Archivist did was nod and gracefully guide Ratchet through the archives without even the slightest hint of emotion beyond momentary confusion and shock at being spoken to. It was almost hypnotic following Orion Pax with how every living thing seemed to bow to him.

He left the archives with his medical text in a bit of a daze and with more questions than answers. That day he resolved to figure out who Orion was and what about him made him so mysterious.

He came back to the archives time and time again, at first under the guise of needing new texts for his studies. Orion always seemed so very shocked when Ratchet approached but he never once rejected him. He talked with Orion, often receiving basic answers or ones that were so cryptic they hardly made sense. However eventually he came back just to be with the Archivist he had started to see as a friend. Orion was an excellent conversationalist and wise far beyond what Ratchet assumed was his age,. What started as a simple study of a unique character ended with Ratchet genuinely invested in teaching Orion how to be normal as he quickly discovered his friend was anything but.

Ratchet gave up asking how and why when it came to Orion around a stellar cycle into their friendship and instead merely sighed and accepted the oddity that was Pax.

Often Orion forgot to vent, a thing Ratchet had learned had zero affect on Orion since the mech was always cold as ice, only ever being even the slightest bit warm around the chassis. In such instances he would tap Orion on the shoulder and that would be enough to get him to open his vents and begin running his fans just to appear normal. When it happened in public mecha always began to panic upon seeing Orion with his armor clamped down tight around himself. The concern was so common that Ratchet even began timing how long it would take after Orion forgot for some poor bot to begin worrying that Orion was going to overheat.

The Archivist also tended to forget to show expression, make a show of having a field, and present some sort of body language. The lack of it left everyone Orion interacted with aside from those who knew him feeling like they were talking to a ghost. So Ratchet often straight up told Orion how he was supposed to act when required. Shoulders back, shift pedes every three seconds or so with slight variation, vent twice a Klik, reset the optics periodically, smile when spoken to, and so on. The list was near endless but he coached Orion all the same.

The only times he purposefully let Orion be was when the less savory sort came and bothered them. In those instances he was perfectly content to let Orion scare the scrap out of the poor bot on the receiving end by pure nature of his seeming lifelessness.

There were plenty of other things about Orion that Ratchet couldn't and certainly felt no need to explain. Sometimes Orion would disappear for cycles at a time without a word or a trace, almost like he had never existed at all. The first time it happened Ratchet nearly drove himself into a frenzy trying to find him until Orion reappeared as if nothing happened. After that he panicked a handful more times, but every instance of Orion dropping off the earth always ended with him returning in perfect condition. As such when it happened Ratchet stopped worrying and instead made sure to take care of Orion's plant while he was off doing whatever.

Ratchet also quickly got over Orion knowing things he really shouldn't and giving answers so wildly out there that it was ridiculous. How did Orion know personal details about what the late Lord of Vos preferred in his fuel? No clue. How did Orion know about the death of Sentinel Prime long before it was announced? Ratchet didn't even bother to try and figure it out. How was Orion aware that he had broken a cup in the medical bay earlier that morning when he had been alone and cleaned it up right after? He didn't want to know.

Ratchet: Where are you from Orion? It's rather obvious you are not native to Iacon.

Orion: I come from the place between the stars where time is meaningless and the whispers of things inconceivable to the mortal optic ring out all around.

Ratchet: Right... that is one way to describe the wilds.

Ratchet: So do you have any relatives?

Orion: Father watches over me in my duties, his gaze ever present but not loving. He is far greater than I, his vision so much more expansive that I cannot even comprehend it. My brothers do their duties with little regard for my own purpose. We are set apart, kin in our maker but not the same.

Ratchet: *nervous as hell* Tough family life huh? Understandable. What is this purpose you speak of?

Orion: I am merely a keeper, one who walks the void between realities to safeguard the children of Primus. I care little for who they are or what they have done, only that they are brought back safely and learn. They can struggle as hard as they wish, but all will come to me eventually...

Ratchet: *having a small crisis* An odd way to describe archiving data, but I suppose all do come for learning eventually.

Orion: As you say.

Sometimes he needed a strong drink after interacting with Orion, but he wouldn't dare ignore the entertainment he gained from his friend when he wasn't being driven to alcoholism with wisdom that Orion really shouldn't have and the odd instances where he saw some sort of energy being in place of his friend after long work shifts. After meeting Megatronus, Orion's odd instances became far more obvious since the Gladiator had quickly taken to telling Orion that it was indeed normal to do all the things the Archivist did that were certainly not. It drove Ratchet up the wall the first few times, but it quickly became funny for him as well to watch the reactions of others in response to Orion's actions.

Megatronus was weirded out by Orion on many levels, but he too gained an appreciation for him after listening to the wisdom Orion had to give. Not to mention Orion somehow had contacts everywhere and could forge words like a master even if they ended up being more terrifying than convincing.

Megatronus: How does the speech fare little Archivist? Might I hear a snippet of what you have composed?

Orion: The void awaits us all, our lives ultimately destined to end. Why endure suffering for eternity when it can be changed for those who are to come? Would we condemn the little children to this torture? Stand up. Fight for your freedom and embrace the end. For what harm is there is facing death with honor.

Megatronus: *slightly shaken* A good start, but perhaps tone down on the melodramatics.

To make up for the near constant trauma that came from being around Orion, Megatronus made great sport out of watching the chaos that came from his companion. While Orion was not very expressive, it was pretty clear he thought he was doing a great job at being normal. Megatronus never saw fit to correct him simply because the Archivist managed to scare Soundwave of all mecha by turning up in his berthroom in the middle of the night while somehow managing to get past all the security systems and Soundwave's heightened senses, only to then lean down and whisper to the spymaster.

"Megatronus summons you to formulate plans upon which this world may be rebuilt"

Simply put, Megatronus sent Orion to tell Soundwave to come to a meeting, and by the time the spymaster shot up, Orion was gone without a trace, not even a mark left on the security footage either. Soundwave quickly similarly ceased asking questions about the matter of Orion Pax and joined Ratchet and Megatronus in watching the fallout.

Orion seemed to think he was doing a fantastic job as he assisted in the efforts to begin a revolution in the pits. Megatronus could tell just by looking at him that the Archivist didn't even seem aware of how creepy he was. It was terrifying to have Orion turn up at any and all hours to hand over information. It didn't matter where Megatronus, Soundwave, Ratchet, or anyone else was. If Orion had information he wanted to relay, he would get to wherever they were and hand over the data even if his last known location was on the other side of the planet. Megatronus opted to ignore the fact that when Orion reappeared after disappearances his frame was a little more "normal" looking. He also never commented when Orion stared at him with unfeeling optics as if watching an interesting animal.

And much like Ratchet, he just did his best to forget the times Orion shifted in times of danger to become something... other. It was always different, but whatever it was Orion became when he felt threatened... it was a terrifying mess of energy and optics, claws and denta, fangs and wings. Best to ignore it and move on, as was generally the best decision when it came to anything that had to do with Orion Pax.

Even still Megatronus and Ratchet said nothing, letting Orion do as he felt and only directing him when in public if at all. He was strange and most likely a spark eater or another abomination in disguise. But he was a good mech and cared deeply once one got to know him. So for that Ratchet and Megatronus dealt with his oddities by either ignoring them or drinking them away so they could instead enjoy his companionship.

Orion for his part didn't know he was doing a poor job blending in and was just pleased that his chosen champion was making such good progress.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #megatron #the thirteenth prime #death's embrace au #shenanigans #cosmic horror #but minor cosmic horror #Orion is just too focused for his own good #Soundwave over here having a small crisis because “how the frag did orion get in???”#Orion talking like he is an Ancient Old One certainly doesn't help him blend it

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collectivecloseness · 6 months

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11 with whatever stranger things character works best ig. 11 nearly *just* makes it but is always left out, ones that don’t quite make it onto some lists are always interesting, like 6 or 51, or the last 100 or something lol

Babes... the fact 11 is literally Nobody by Mitski... the lonely left out one 😭 Anyway this is poor Stevie fr 😭😭

(Cw: this fic is about Steve’s mental health after dealing with all the upside down trauma the past few years)

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t groan, he just doesn’t make a sound when he finally wakes up. He’d fallen back asleep a couple of times after opening his eyes, just hoping to shorten the day and stay somewhere peaceful a moment longer, but his body couldn’t take anymore sleep. He was awake now.

There was no work today. No alarm to make sure he could be autonomous and run on autopilot to brush his teeth and rush to the car in yesterday’s work clothes, and no radio call from one of the kids in danger giving him the boost of adrenaline to get up either.

But tapping his fingers on his plain grey quilt, Steve couldn’t handle the realisation he’d be alone with his thoughts right now if he didn’t get up.

Pushing himself with a sigh, Steve winces as his feet hit the cold fooorboards, slumping over to put some black socks on first, before he finds a shirt to throw over his head. He looks down to his sweatpants, but suddenly the thought of changing out of them, and into something else made Steve’s head ache and feel faint at the same time. So he didn’t care about wearing what he’d worn to bed downstairs as he dragged himself to the living room.

Steve was used to being alone in this house. His parents basically treated the place he grew up in as a holiday home, rather than a home, being there around a weekend every six weeks, if they were ever that scheduled. He never knew when they were coming back.

Steve basically owned the house now, as the sole person who actually lived there. He’d turn his parents room into a spare room, maybe have Robin as a roommate, he knew she wanted to move out away from her parents, but even mentioning it to his mom, his dad overheard him over the phone and he had yells and disappointed chidings of how selfish and inconsiderate he was assaulted down the speaker. ‘They still lived there!’ They said, although they hardly ever turned up to prove their point.

At least people visited, even if Steve couldn’t truly make the house his home yet, no decorating of his own. But being alone here, it at least made his house the designated hang out zone. It gave him good memories here. You visited a lot, and Steve was so grateful to have you as a partner. He wondered what you were up to today...

There was nothing for Steve to do here. Definitely not alone. And he definitely couldn’t risk messing something up, and his parents deciding to drop in from the other side of the country. But standing at the base of the stairs, looking around at his open, and empty home, something vile and sickening clawed at his chest, trying to scrape up his throat, split open his head from the inside. Steve went straight to the television, his chest in pain enough it made Steve flinch, turning the tv onto some random channel, any, just turning it up. A sitcom being on air, and the noise of a family all chatting together made Steve feel less alone.

Steve nearly sprinted to all the windows in the house, opening them up so he could hear noise from the outside, the things happening in the real world. He opened up the curtainless window of his kitchen, and he stood there a moment, the one further away from the tv, as he let the world go by. The wind stroked comfortingly through Steve’s brown hair, from the open panel at the top of the glass, where he was. Steve closed his eyes, letting the touch encouragingly pass. But soon there was another reason he wanted his eyes closed, because it was beginning to get harder to look outside.

He listened to cars honking hello to each other, teenagers chatting to their friends on the way to school, parents repeating road safety with their eager kids. Pushchair wheels rolling and dogs yipping and leaf blowers working. Everyone talking. In their own conversations, taking part in lives separate to the others they pass by without even noticing them, but everyone out there at least has something in common. Something Steve envied and yearned, but just could not find it in himself to seek at this moment.

The wind was cooler now. Biting him. Not meant for him. Everyone had someone else around, shielding each other from nature’s course, holding onto each other to avoid puddles, stepping away from the leaves blowing near them, or in one case, jumping on them themselves.

Steve retreated to his television. He didn’t know this family in the show, he wasn’t even watching, his eyes on the tv, but unfocused and mind not taking any of the images in. He just wanted them to keep talking.

As soon as he’d sat down, Steve realised he probably should have grabbed something from the kitchen to eat. And now he was thinking about it, his stomach churned in hunger. He knew he was hungry, even if it was the type of hunger that made you feel nauseous. But Steve had already sat down. And standing up again, just to get himself some food, just could not be prioritised enough for Steve to motivate himself to get his legs to move.

All Steve wants is somebody. Somebody near him right now. Somebody to be with him. He was a changed man after his first encounter with the upside down those few years ago. Battling creatures with his baseball bat, his ex and her new guy, and learning all about the horrible world underneath this one. Becoming the protector of others and the perpetual and never ending punching bag at the same time.

He looped it all in with the upside down, all these events, the Russians torturing him, what happened with Nancy, the possible state of his future, his relationship with his parents, almost losing the people he loves even though he always puts himself on the line first he just!!- What else can he do?!! And why isn’t him throwing himself into every danger to protect the people who actually deserve to be protected ever enough?!

Why do people still get hurt, when Steve will always let himself get hurt for them!?

Steve puts his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs but he just pushes them in harder, his bitten nails barely doing damage as he scrapes them into his head whilst he’s burying his eyes. “Shut up shut up shut up.” Steve growls softly to himself, knowing he wasn’t helping anything.

He was a coward.

He acted strong, in front of the others. Proud to always be ‘the’ badass around the kids, especially Dustin. And he always headed straight on for danger if that would mean it helped the others. But he was so changed when it was just him now. He wasn’t the same person before; and he was glad, he’d been an asshole - something Steve winces into his hand at, as he remembers - but he’s not like he used to be.

He used to be able to get through his nightmares about his childhood. He used to come home and just chill. Enjoy the house to himself, and throw parties. He never felt like this until he went through all that trauma, as you’d promised him it was. He never felt so troubled, so down, so exhausted, so scared, so lonely. So just everything all at once.

He knows it’s not up to anybody to save him, he knows that no one can. Or at least, he thinks that, sometimes. Even though Steve sometimes feels like screaming, begging you to save him, even at the moments he’s least in danger, just in his own home. Even with you right there holding him. Not actually risking his life like he’s done so many times, like he’s made you cry over, watching him be so selfless, and brave, and hurt, again and again. Needing you to help save him, after it all too. But part of him feels like a coward for wanting it. The other half remembers all your loving words, all of them, not one is ever forgotten by Steve, and he’s able to regain control over those thoughts again most times he slaves over this.

Before you, there would have been no one to save Steve first, no one he was most important to, during all these life threatening events. Steve almost allowed himself to be okay with the thought no one would save him, even as he was first to throw himself in head first if it meant protecting his friends. Everyone had someone else. Someone they’d check up on first. Steve was glad he had you. Even when you promised him he wasn’t just your first choice to save, that others would pick him too. Even that helped Steve. Not just you being there, but you, you being the one to be his partner, you who just always knows how to help him.

All he wanted was to feel alright. Not great, just alright. Something he always used to take for granted. Something he can start to feel again, whenever he’s with you, or surrounded by his loved ones. ...Steve’s lips twisted up, his head tilting slightly as it came out of his hands. Why was that something so hard, for him to be able to feel alright? Why was his life like that?

But you at least told him he wasn’t a coward. You got through it with him, you let him be changed even when he wasn’t alone, you-

Steve’s head shot up as he heard the key in the door. And his heart froze like a cool zap in his chest, as he prayed inside his head to let it be you. That you somehow knew he needed you today. That you were coming for him, like you always did.

And Steve felt relief pour through his body so hard, his frozen fingers and toes flooded with such warmth, allowing him to actually feel able to move his muscles, as he reached his arms out for you from where he was sat on the couch, as you made eye contact with him from where you’d hung your coat, your own eyes filled immediately with your knowledge.

“Oh... Oh baby.”

You spoke so softly. Steve loved your voice. He kept his arms open as you rushed over, sitting by him on the couch and immediately pulling Steve into your arms with a big breath. Steve melting his face into your collarbone, as he let himself listen to your breath, your heartbeat, the creak of your trousers against his couch, and he felt whole not being alone at all anymore.

Steve is happy to listen for moments longer, his brown messy hair nestling into the crook of your neck, as he smooths his cheek over your warm skin. He can smell the body wash he uses when he showers at yours. His hands crawl up to hold you by the side of your chest softly. Steve happy to start to listen to the beat of your heart, and see if his will follow rhythm, like it does when he pays attention to it.

But you start speaking again. At least, filling his home with your voice. “Stevie darling. I’m here. You’re okay Steve.” You kiss his soft hair, stroking his head, and Steve leans into your touch. “You’re okay. I’m staying with you today.” You promise, knowing he likes when you do so, and when you plan it for the rest of his day.

Steve nods, letting you know he heard you, and he’s thankful, but a big sigh leaves his lungs, tickling hot against your collar, as he thinks, at least now while in a safety bubble of your warm hold, having wrapped your arms and legs, all of you safely around him.

Whether he’s been big or small, tough or soft, he’s still never good enough, still nobody wanted him. He was a douchey smartass, then a loser dumbass, and he wasn’t liked as either of those - never wanted, Steve thinks. Until you.

His thoughts still wandering around those paths, as he starts to let you take over for him this morning. He’s got to remind himself those thoughts he has just aren’t true, during spirals like this. You do want him. You, his best friend, his other friends, the kids, Joyce, Hopper, hell even his parents.

He is wanted.

Steve’s just got to remember it even in his lonely times. It doesn’t matter whether he’s brave and macho, or a dorky himbo, he’s still him, and he’s still loved by somebody. By multiple somebodies. And turning his head, peering his soft brown eyes up into your own, Steve constantly knows you really love him.

Steve leans his hand up, not even thinking about how his body no longer feels tired or achy anymore, just brushing your hair away behind your ears so he can see more of your perfect face, and also touch your soft hair.

“Good morning.” He speaks up, smiling crookedly and smally at you, but Steve feels relieved and wondrous, hearing his own voice in his big house.

“Good morning Steve.” You smile down at him. And God are Steve’s eyes sparkly as they look mesmerised at you. You moving to stroke Steve’s puffy brown hair, as his longer fingers still caress over your own. You smile, and Steve smiles back. No ache in his heart, his thoughts just full of all he can do with you today now his house is not so empty, or you can even leave the house together, if he chooses that he wants to. And that small other aware part of his thoughts, so happy and thankful that in this moment, that you are here with him.

Even though Steve can tell you know he was sad. That he was going through it a bit again. He’s obviously much better now he’s practically laying across your lap, his toned body fitting perfectly in your arms, and his head tucked warmly at the bottom of your chest, looking up at how you peer down at him, holding him, cradling your boyfriend safely, and Steve brings his hands to rest on your forearms, smiling as he swallows in his throat, relaxing in a position Steve loves.

Steve’s not asking you to fix him, he knows it’s not as simple as that, and he knows you don’t need any pressure. You two are working on it all, together. Both your issues, both your needs, and importantly, your wants. Steve so happy to be able to share his wants with you just as much as his needs, and have you take care of each other’s, of each other. Steve’s not asking for you to fix him, instead he’s licking his dry lips, and with a small and endearing smile, asks “Can I have my kiss now?”

His adoring smile only growing as you gleefully and slowly move in, pressing your warm lips against his own. Giving Steve the one thing he needed to start feeling properly alright again. Allowing Steve to hold your face close, as you both chuckle softly into each other’s mouths, the small sound so audible to Steve with how close you both are. As you happily, and so open heartedly, honestly, lovingly, both share a sweet kiss, for the start of his better day.

#I think I heard the word ‘nobody’ at least 200 times listening to this song again for this #I know I *intially* said these would be blurbs but I can literally never help myself #I’m also gonna give out bonus points any time a song is on my playlist for a character so- point to you haha!#also bc I’m doing a lot of these and shorter ones in one go I’m trying to get them out quicker so I hope there’s no spelling mistakes after #editing aha #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fic #stranger things #mitski #my fics #ask #anon #2.6k

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blackopals-world · 1 year

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Boudoir

Model!FemYuu x Vil Schoenheit

It was for publicity. A raunchy shoot for the new romantic drama Vil would be starring in. It was Vil's idea to do a Boudoir shoot, so he can't complain about the results but he will complain about the bold photographer.

He asked for this. He wanted this. But some how this was far too invasive.

Vil visited her one evening after work. They had been friends for years but they were still "just friends". He often wondered how she put up with his nagging and dramatics but she would remind him every time why she stayed.

"You're not a burden." she'd say her hands rubbing his cheeks in that soothing way she always did.

Their relationship was unique. Neither desired partners nor temporary lovers. They had each other and then they had other friendships. But the desire was there.

Vil browsed some old albums Yuu had made. She often made scrapbooks of photos and other things she gathered. One page had pictures from the autumn festival they went to. They were sitting on a bench under a golden oak tree, tucked in close to one another with cups of warm apple cider in hand. They looked so good together. She had tapped one of the leaves and a festival ticket to the page.

Vil placed the book back onto the shelf before going back to browsing for another. Her modeling portfolios were numerous, they weren't anything he hadn't seen her wear in person. If he said he was beautiful it wasn't something didn't say often. He browsed them when she was busy like she was now. She was currently in the kitchen cooking and like always Vil was shooed out of the way. She hated him nitpicking the food.

One of the books stood out. It was much smaller and unmarked. He pulled it out to find a collection of black and white photos. Each of them were images of Yuu dressed in lingerie if she wasn't being covered in a thin sheet on her bare body. The high contrast brought out every curve of her body and the smoothness of her skin.

"Oh, you found my old boudoir album!" Yuu chirped, her head peaking out from the kitchen before disappearing.

Vil reflexively slammed the book close in embarrassment. His cheeks reddened feeling like he was caught red handed.

"Yeah, it was an accident. It's pretty good work though."Vil coughed as he tried to play it off.

Yuu hummed in agreement.

"Whispers Of The Night" had wrapped up filming a month ago and it was time to get ready for the press tour.

It was a steamy romantic drama with Vil as the main love interest. It was a difficult role with his co-star being difficult behind the scenes. The media manager wanted them to do another shoot to promote the movie but this time done in fewer clothes. His co-star, bless her, wasn't going for it. She had an image and part of that wasn't getting naked. It was perfectly fair to Vil if she didn't want to but the company wanted a shoot. His manager suggested that since Vil character was a Cassanova, they could just find another model as a stand in.

Vil immediately jumped to choosing his long-time friend and fellow model Yuu who agreed with little fan fair. Yuu requested a private shoot with only a photographer and Vil.

"I can't just have a whole studio staring at my chest while you bury your face in between." She said half joking.

"W-will that be happening or..." Vil mumbled as his imagination took over. Her breasts were larger than average and must have been very soft.

"Hmm, probably. Do you have any problems with that?" She asked nervously.

"No, not at all. I've never been a part of these shoots. I'll need an experienced partner to show me." Vil smirked as he watched Yuu turn red.

"Hardly more experienced than you. I still remember that underwear ad you did for Calvin Klein." Yuu teased watching Vils violet eyes dilate slightly. " No one shut up about it for months. All you had to do was take your shirt off and stock prices jumped to the ceiling."

Vil held his hands up in mock surrender, they could go back and forth forever about what they've done for the industry and what embarrassing things they've done.

"Okay my dove, arch your back more" Philip the photographer called over the lens as he focused the camera on her lace-wrapped chest

They were posed on a soft velvet-covered bed, her legs wrapped around Vil's waist, his hands on her bare hips, and his mouth pulling on the thin lace on her breast to reveal more of her ample cleavage.

Philip was too close for Vil's taste. He jumped at the chance to be that solo photographer and called Yuu his inspiration. Vil just didn't know inspiration was code for obsession. Rook at least respected distance but this guy was too personable.

"Focus on your client. A little less on her." Vil said stiffly as he shifted his hands up Yuu's back as she arched it upwards.

"Sorry! Sorry! I need her in the center frame." Philip said pitting the camera down and letting it hang around his neck.

"Don't worry Philip, he's just agitated. He wants attention." Yuu chimed rubbing her thumb across Vil's cheek as she caressed it.

Vil wrinkled his nose before remembering that this was just business.

"Yes. Yes. Okay now Mr.Schoenheit, please lean down and give my dear a kiss on her cute soft belly." Philip smiled gleefully as he held up the camera again.

Vil wanted to kill him. He was no stranger to people commenting on her body. He scrolled through enough of her social media feeds to see it but hearing this guy say it in front of him made him angry.

The blonde sighed but relented and unwrapped Yuu's legs. He pressed his lips to her stomach. Yuu squirmed slightly giggling as Vil repeated the action. His hand came up to her chest to press her to stop from moving.

"Excellent! Excellent! Such chemistry! My beautiful dove, you look ravishing like this. Now Mr.Schoenheit please hook you're fingers onto her underwear and remove them." Philip aimed the camera squarely on her lower body.

The couple stilled. This was not a nude shoot. A bit scanty but not naked. Neither moved.

"Here, like this." Philip said reaching out and hooked a finger into Yuu's panties.

Yuu jumped and pulled away but not before Vil grapped the photographer's wrist.

"No, you're done. You don't touch her and this isn't part of our contract." Vil said firmly and placed himself between Yuu and the photographer.

Yuu was embarrassed but agreed with Vil. The shoot was canceled and the photos were scrapped. Philip was disavowed for his lack of etiquette. It eventually came out that he wanted to take and sell photos of Vil and Yuu naked to the public. He wanted to model them like adult video stars.

Yuu apologized over and over because she had worked with him in the past and trusted him not to do something like this.

Vil accepted as long as Yuu let him vet the people she works with. He was too concerned with her safety.

In truth, he didn't blame Philip. Well, actually he did for everything except for his comments on Yuu's body. Those were true.

Their second shoot went much better but all the lingering glances and gentle touches became more heated once everyone went home.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil shoenheit x reader #vil twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vil #twst

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scaralvr · 2 years

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05. outside of school chapter five to the secrecy of our confessions [masterlist]

synopsis: scaramouche gets dragged to an outing with his sisters but his frown turns upside down when he sees you (n/n) = nickname

"KUNIKUZUSHI, YOU DICKHEAD, PAY ATTENTION!" mona screamed as fischl trudged around the clothing store, attempting to be a random person passing by. scaramouche hummed and waved his hand, not looking up from his phone. mona clenched her jaw so hard she swore she heard it clack.

she stomped over to where he was sitting outside of the changing rooms. mona pressed her index fingertip to his forehead rather harshly, "i didn't bring you along on this outing for nothing! now, how do you think this skirt looks on me?" scaramouche brought his phone closer to his face, tucking his knees in, "i think it makes your ass look even smaller than it already is." mona gasped.

fischl looked through the countless racks of clothing, trying to ignore the stares the people gave her siblings. she nervously whistled, making her way back to them. "may we please, please, please go now? i beg of you!" she whined, clinging onto mona's arm.

mona rolled her eyes, "oh, fine. get up off your ass, kunikuzushi and let's go." scaramouche didn't reply. she tapped her foot, raising her brow with a menacing glare. fischl gripped onto her older sister's shirt, "may i propose a suggestion, sister?... we could leave 'mouche to his own business for a bit and then come back-"

in one swift move, mona snatched scaramouche's phone.

"aha!" she snickered with a victorious grin. scaramouche attempted to run forward to grab it but failed when mona put her arms up high. "GIVE IT BACK, YOU, YOU-" he gritted his teeth, "YOU BITCH!" an old woman nearby gasped and people began to mutter.

mona laughed, tears growing in her eyes from the sheer ridicule, "oh, name calling, are we now, mister loverboy?" she teased, pointing at your twitter dm he was previously texting. scaramouche gawked, "shock!" (spyxfamily anya reference real) he shook his head and pushed her to the ground, "GIVE IT!"

fischl's mouth was left agape as she anxiously watched the twins go for each other's throats, "ah..." after much hair yanking and biting, yes, biting, the manager of the store had to kick them out from the amount of customer complaints. mona scoffed, "the clothes there were pricy anyways. come along!" she declared, leading the way.

scaramouche angrily blew a strand of hair away from his face, due to the fact that mona had confiscated his phone and shoved it away in her purse. and he was just starting a good conversation with you. fischl's eyes lit up as she tugged at her brother's sleeve, "look, look!"

scaramouche groaned, "fisch', i'm not interested in seeing those video game characters with huge boobs and thigh highs for no reason-" he froze when he pin-pointed where his sister was looking at. "it's..."

"(y/n)!" hu tao exclaimed, running over to grab your hands. she giggled, "c'mon, you slow-poke; the rest of us have been waiting for a decade now. you're always last to arrive at our little meet-ups outside of school!" she joked, poking fun at you. you nervously chuckled, "sorry, you know my parents. they held me up with studying for the upcoming exams," you explained with a smile.

hu tao led you to the cafe, "oh, really? i never study for anything, i'm just that good at it." she winked and you laughed. scaramouche instantly ran up to mona, "i'm hungry!" he said, a little too loud. mona scanned him up and down, "okay... and?" scaramouche pointed to the cafe with an innocent smile, "let's go there."

mona and fischl flinched together. "he never smiles... unless he's done a brutal thing or is planning something." mona thought to herself, suspecting scaramouche's odd behaviour. she flipped her hair, "fine." scaramouche could hardly contain a genuine grin from slipping.

"ooh, this place smells rather pleasant!" fischl commented as mona dragged her by the arm, "don't get distracted, fischl." in the meanwhile, scaramouche looked left and right, searching for your whereabouts. "i'll just have a frap and what do you two want?" mona asked, taking out her credit card.

fischl excitedly raised her hand, "a carrot muffin!" scaramouche bit down on his lip to stifle a smile as he saw you. "and you, kunikuzushi?" mona queried. he didn't look at her, eyes lingering upon your attractive face as you conversed with your friends, "oh... i'll just have a wichsand- i-i mean, sandwich," scaramouche corrected himself with a lovesick gaze.

mona mocked a gagging sound while sticking her finger down her throat and scaramouche shouted, "HEY, WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?" you perked up at the familiar voice at the same time. "say, you seem a little distracted today (y/n)," yun jin tittered. yoimiya squealed, "oh, it's him, isn't it!?"

butterflies formed in your stomach and your cheeks dusted a light pink, "who?" hu tao deadpanned, "just look at that stupid face. they're totally thinking about him." you smacked her arm and she whistled, "just saying." you rested your chin in your hand, closing your eyes with a smile, "we were texting just earlier, actually."

ayaka's eyes grew wide, "really!?" yoimiya giggled, "ohh, of course you two were. you've always been on that phone ever since he added you!" you waved your hands around defensively, "hey, it's not all the time!-"

"kunikuzushi, you little shit, are you not listening to me again?" mona snapped her fingers. scaramouche quickly looked away when you caught his gaze by surprise. his face reddened as he glared at his sister, "what." she narrowed her eyes, "do you think i'm an idiot? just go talk to them, damn it!" she said, pushing scaramouche forward.

and he ended up, right in front of the table you were sitting at with your friends. hu tao gave him a judgy glare, loudly sipping from the straw jammed into a nearly empty pumpkin spice latte. you appeared surprised, "scara!" yun jin smugly repeated, "scara?" hu tao huffed, "so you two have endearments for each other now?"

both you and scaramouche blushed out of embarrassement, yelping in unison, "no!" you cleared your throat, "no, hu tao. um, sorry about her, she can be a little... eccentric with the way she comes off to people." you vaguely explained and hu tao gawked, "ECCENTRIC?" scaramouche had a shit-eating grin on his lips, "i see."

hu tao and scaramouche, a 1v1 has begun!

hu tao crossed her arms, "have you dated anyone else before?" scaramouche replied with ease, "maybe, once or twice. but they were just using me to get in my pants." she squinted, "how do you treat your significant other?" he scoffed, "like they're royalty." ayaka, yun jin and yoimiya watched with interest as you panicked, "hu tao!-"

hu tao slyly smiled, "have you done infidelity?" scaramouche had a twinkle in his glare as he smirked, "i'm surprised, maybe even a little offended, that you think i'd stoop that low." you holding onto scaramouche's arm snapped him out of the argument.

"could we talk, elsewhere?" you asked with a nervous grin, but it was oh-so-obvious that you had to get away from your dearest, overprotective hu tao. scaramouche purely smiled at you, "of course, (n/n)." making sure hu tao heard it, he looked at her.

hu tao spit out her drink, "BETRAYAL!"

@meowlumi @beriiov @apr1cityyy @xtodorokismistressx @dollpoetwriting @bleedingwhiteroses222 @r0ttenhearts @sammy-hammy @atsukawolfcat @pooonyo @strawberryclumsy @emmaemoseila @kunikuzushiit @scaramouchesmoocher @lxry-chxn @koiir @rvoulte @scarasaver @slash3rcore @sup-zfam @cotton-eee @twistedrxses @dameofthorns @ayamvirus @thinkingotherwise @jameineliebe @thenightsflower @lumpywolf @whatamidoing89 @strawbxrrytiger @sunfloens @one-offmind @angryhope @skimm0nzz @etherisy

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rendy-a · 7 months

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Not an ask just two questions. What do you think happens in self aware twst when one, you touch their profile coffins when the game is loading. Cause I know I just tap them while the game switches between screens or is first starting. And two, what do you think happens when you put two different versions of the same character on your team. Cause I have dorm riddle and tsum riddle and they get put on the same team quite often. You obviously don't need to answer but I just want a second opinion on what people think happens during those things.

Well, that is a fun question. I feel like the cast is just out living their lives until they get that feeling, the feeling that the game is loading. Usually, that only interests the character you have set to your home screen but when you start tapping on the coffins, they notice. Just like if you’d tapped them on the shoulder, they feel something like that. And boy do they get excited that it means something. Do you need them? Are you wanting to see them in lessons? You’ll call for them soon, won’t you?

When you use more than one version of a character in a battle. Well, the answer is magic! Some other member of the cast will be forced to use transformation magic to take on the role of the “other” character and join the battle. Player, you don’t know what sort of drama you are stirring up here. For the character forced to transform, Jealousy 100%. For the character getting so much attention, Smugness 1000%.

I also feel like there is a lot of drama caused by home screens. The worst is when you use one character’s bedroom as background but set a different character as your home screen character. Don’t you realize, Player, that every time you load the game, the owner of that bedroom gets kicked into the hallway or forced to hide behind the bed or in the closet? They just seethe in jealousy there as they listen to SOME OTHER character soak up your attention in THEIR bedroom.

Croquet was rarely interrupted in Heartslabyul. According to the rules, there were only two permissible reasons to do so. One involved dancing hippos and hardly ever happened. The other was when the Player logged on. Riddle was executing his elaborate batting ritual, each step perfectly according to the book he’d studied on the subject. His face stern and focused, estimating the distance to the hedgehog ball and the angle he was holding the flamingo. Slowly lining up his swing, practicing, perfecting…and then nothing.

He looks up so suddenly, with eyes blown wide and his mouth slowly falling into a surprised O. Then he unceremoniously drops his flamingo, gathers his cape in his hands to prevent tripping and takes off at a full sprint towards the entrance of the dorm and the mirror waiting there. He was being summoned. The Player was logging in.

“This sucks,” some Heartslabyul mob student says as he casts down his flamingo mallet in frustration. Cater doesn’t reply as he pulls out his phone and returns to his Magicam feed, but he understands his fellow student’s frustration. Everyone wants the attention of the Player and yet, so few students had that opportunity. Cater reminds himself that at least he is a part of the main cast. The mob student had to wait and hope the Player would get nostalgic and replay Chapter One to be noticed again. You’d yet to do so but hope remained that someday you would.

Deuce sits beside Cater with such a force that he shakes the dainty tea bench they sit upon. Cater supposes that is his own way of dealing with the disappointment. He pretends not to notice and keeps his eyes on his phone. When Deuce shoots up, gasping aloud, Cater can no longer ignore him. “Hey Deucy~,” he starts in a sing-songy voice, “What’s the sitch?” Deuce shoots Cater a desperate look, “I think they want me. I don’t know but suddenly…I…I just can’t describe it but I think they are calling for me!” Cater tilts his head to consider his junior when he feels it as well. Like a shocking jolt running down his spine, instantly gaining his attention and reminding him of the Player.

He doesn’t remember standing yet as his awareness returns, he realizes he is eye to eye with Deuce. “We…we should go,” Cater says shakily. Deuce looks so hopeful as he says, “Really? We can?” Trey starts to stand and probably talk them out of it. Cater meets his eye for a moment and then takes off in a run. Only a moment behind him, Deuce joins him. They sprint out of Heartslabyul, jump through the mirror, take a hard corner and just as recklessly jump through the mirror into Pomefiore. They dash past several very confused mob students until they reach a gilded door and throw it open. Inside is a very awkward standoff between Riddle and Vil inside the Pomefiore Dorm Leader’s bedroom.

Riddle is nervously smoothing his dorm uniform into perfection, staring at the magic window through which the Player will soon view him. Vil is angrily tapping one long manicured nail against his forearm as he looks on from a corner of the room hidden from view of the magic window. The arrival of the two unexpected guests pulls both their attention. “Wha, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Riddle demands angrily, his face heating up to an angry red. “THE PLAYER COULD BE HERE AT ANY MOMENT AND YOU ARE NOT SET TO THE HOMESCREEN!”

Cater struggles to think of a way to phrase the unusual happening that would justify their presence and at the same time avoid triggering their dangerous dorm leader. Deuce, however, has a much lower sense of self-preservation and blurts out, “The Player was calling for me! I could feel it!” Riddle appears to visibly choak on his anger as he reminds Deuce, “If the Player wanted you, they would have called you to the home screen or selected you for lessons! This is just…” Riddle blanches stark white before hurriedly standing up straight and facing the magic window. “Students of Heartslabyul must strictly adhere to living in accordance with our rules,” he finishes his home screen line flawlessly.

Riddle continues to hold his arm to the side, keeping his ridged pose perfectly as the silence lengthens. Though the intruders had been so confident during their travels, upon arrival, they no longer found they had the bravery to step out from the sidelines and face the Player through the magic window unsought. What if the Player hadn’t meant to call them here? Maybe it was some sort of test? Perhaps they shouldn’t have said anything and instead accepted the strange show of favor as a secret bond between them and the Player.

Moments later, Riddle relaxes. “They’ve gone to the guest room,” he announces before turning an angry frown on his disobedient dorm students. “Vil, I must apologize for these two. It is horrible manners to barge into another’s room uninvited like this.” Vil looks very put out at having to accept both invited and uninvited guests to his room. His mouth turns down the smallest amount into what Cater supposes is a level of frown that shows displeasure without risking the creation of frown lines later in life. He opens his mouth to add some biting comment but then pauses, looking off into the distance with a glazed look. Then he smiles a dazzling smile, “It appears I’ve been summoned to the guest room.” With an overly pleased expression on his face, Vil saunters from the room, leaving the two unfortunate members of Heartslabyul alone with their dorm leader.

Riddle’s lecture continued long into the night, interrupted only when the Player returned to the home screen between lessons and exams. Cater and Deuce appreciated the gaze of the Player more than usual. Won’t you spend more time on the home screen, Player? They really need you.

#self aware au #twst

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maislovebot · 9 months

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Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Doppo Kunikida

Hello! I’m so sorry I didn’t post it when I said I would but my parents surprised me with a trip to Yellowstone and I didn’t have service! I’m back now tho and I’m ready to roll with some porn<3

Contains: afab reader, no pronouns used, reader teased Kuni, dom-ish Kunikida, fluff and smut, Kuni has a huge lingerie kink, praise (giving and receiving), aftercare + cuddling

Read it on ao3 if you’re interested:)

“Doppo” you whined, stretching out the end of his name.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t we go on a date or something?”

Kunikida has been focusing on work far too much lately. Ever since the Guild got destroyed, he’s been so focused on keeping everything in order, he’s been forgetting about you! You just couldn’t allow that, and you were determined to get him to just forget about work for a few hours, and focus on you. Or better yet, focus on himself, because he’s clearly been neglecting himself.

“Maybe once everything has passed, but you know that I have to keep working.”

“But you’re off the clock! You’re just working for the sake of working at this point.”

Kunikida sighed, “I would hardly call it that.”

You frowned. Were you really just distracting him from his work? Maybe working is what’s best for him right now.

“Alright, fine. Let me know when you’re done with your work so we can do something.” You were trying your hardest to keep your annoyance out of your tone, but you just couldn’t help it. He just wouldn’t leave his work alone! Even if at this point you assumed it’s what he wanted, it sure felt like torture for you.

Kunikida, being the man he is, noticed your tone of voice and turned to you.

“Alright, fine. Let’s plan for a date tomorrow. Right after I get off of work, we can go somewhere.”

“Yes! Where do you wanna go?”

“Wherever you want.”

You sighed. “Well that doesn’t help! This dates for you, after all.” Kunikida’s face became a slight shade of pink at your confession. “Alright. How about somewhere like a park? We could just go there for a little. I think going outside would do me some good right now.” Kunikida was trying to stay calm, but he was clearly very, very ready for this date with the way his foot tapped against the floor lightly.

“The park sounds nice! I can bring us something to eat, too.”

Kunikida gave a surprisingly warm smile and replied, “that sounds nice.”

Today is the day! You thought. It was now two hours from when Kunikida would leave work, so you decided to start getting the food ready. All kinds of things were packed, but it was all stuff you made yourself. You knew Kunikida would feel more appreciated if you made the food yourself.

You hummed in the kitchen faintly, clearly very excited for what was to come.

It was now half an hour before you left, luckily, you were already dressed under your apron. You untied your apron from behind your back, and hung it up where you typically do. You went into your bedroom to grab your wallet before leaving when you noticed a special something on your nightstand.

‘ ah, I forgot about that. ’ What lay before you was new lingerie you bought because you saw it at the mall recently and you couldn’t bring yourself to go without it, it was just so fitting of you. It fit your body perfectly, brought undeniable confidence and you just knew how much Kunikida was gonna love it.

‘ It wouldn’t hurt to wear it.. what’s the worst that could happen? ’ You thought to yourself. Quickly undressing, you replaced your underwear with the lingerie and got dressed again. ‘ I hope he notices it at some point. ’ Considering how long you two had gone without getting it on, you were desperate for some action.

Luckily, you still left a little early, despite putting on some pretty lingerie and needing to get dressed all over again. Considering who you were going out with, it was probably a good idea to be early instead of on time.

You arrived, and you were met with an exceptionally early Kunikida. “Damn, I was hoping I’d get here before you!” You playfully pushed his shoulder with your pointer finger to tease him.

“You probably would have if I didn’t have extra time at work today.”

“How was work, by the way?”

Kunikida sighed and closed his eyes tight and rubbed his temples after sitting down on the bench next to him.

“Dazai was teasing me the entire time. He somehow knew I was planning something after work and wouldn’t leave me alone about it trying to guess what it was.”

You laughed and responded, “well, did he figure it out?”

“Yes. Then he went on and on about how he’s surprised I was able to meet someone who actually fit my ‘standards’”

“That’s funny though!”

Kunikida looked at you doubtfully as you sat down. “Not when you have to deal with it every day of the week.”

“I guess it could get a little annoying.”

There was a part of you that wanted to tell Kunikida what you were wearing underneath your clothes, but there was another part of you that wanted to wait till you got home so you wouldn’t have to deal with a scolding from Kunikida for trying to have sex with him in public, so you decided to keep it a secret for the entirety of the date, no matter how disappointing it was.

You looked around for a minute, looking at the trees surrounding you two, and the well maintained grass that was just below your feet, the warm sun hitting your skin.

“Well.. how did I meet your many, many requirements?”

“You don’t.”

The typical person would probably be offended by this response, but you knew Kunikida too well. He was blunt, and sometimes it came across as rude. But you knew better than that, this is just how he is, but you love him for it.

“Oh. Well then, why’d you pick me?”

“I fell for you too hard to let you go,” Kunikida replied, not realizing how lovestruck his confession sounded till a couple of seconds after it left his mouth. “..or something like that.” Kunikida finished his reply with his cheeks turning pink again, this time more vibrantly.

“How cute! I love you so much, Doppo.” You said as you gently wrapped your arms around him, in order to reach him better you moved onto his lap and he sat still for a few seconds before moving his arms to wrap around you as well.

“I love you, too.” His reply was short and sweet, just like always.

You two sat like that for a few seconds, before moving your head out of his chest.

“Well, I brought some snacks. I even brought your favorite!” You spoke, breaking the silence.

“Thank you, my love.”

You blushed at the nickname. Kunikida rarely called you by anything other than your name, so whenever he didn’t it never failed to make you feel weak in the knees.

Kunikida noticed this and placed his hand in your hair, almost petting you. His form of comfort came across as very wholesome, and gentle despite his nature. It was sweet.

Your date went wonderfully, and you two left with a satisfied appetite and mood. Kunikida lifted his wrist to check what time it was.

“9:30.”

“Ah, so we have half an hour before you go to sleep.”

“Yes. Let’s go get ready.”

You sighed. “You and your schedules.”

“I need a strict schedule!”

You lifted your arms to defend yourself. “I know, I know! It’s just funny. Go do your thing.”

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow, and walked off. Little did he know what you had planned.

Kunikida arrived in his bathroom and laid some mint flavored toothpaste on top of his toothbrush before he looked over and saw you, changed into your pajamas. He assumed you were just coming in to brush your teeth as well, which would be correct. What caught him off guard, however, was the fact he could see a lacy bra strap peeking out from the neckline pajamas you were wearing.

You, being who you are, noticed this and made a sly facial expression despite having a toothbrush occupying your mouth at that moment. Despite Kunikida arriving to brush his teeth before you, you had finished first. Probably because he was staring at what he (rightfully) assumed to be lingerie. Because you were done, you laid your head on Kunikida and closed your eyes.

“Well, I’ll see you in the bedroom.” You said, with the smallest amount of flirtatious undertones. Kunikida grabbed your shoulder when you were in the door frame and asked you a question rather bluntly.

“What’re you wearing?”

You smiled and replied, “oh, this? It’s just some lingerie I bought recently. Brand new, too! Wanna take a peek?” The glisten in your eyes had practically trapped him. Sure, it was off schedule, he liked being asleep by ten every night because he knew it would be beneficial, but it wouldn’t hurt to indulge you just this once, right? You looked so genuinely excited, and he just couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Of course I do.”

“Well then meet me in the bedroom!” You teased, stretching out the last word of your sentence. As you were leaving, you stretched upwards, allowing Kunikida to see the bottom of the lacy bra he was practically drooling over.

“We can go there together.” Kunikida said, wanting you out of your clothes as soon as possible. The tone of his voice was proving it.

“Just let me finish brushing my teeth, I’m almost done.” You smiled. “Okay, I’ll wait here then.” You leaned against the doorframe and looked at Kunikida.

Only a few seconds later, he finished so he grabbed your shoulders and walked you over to the nearest wall.

He looked at the top you were wearing, and reached to grab the sides of your shirt. “This is fine, right?”

“I thought you’d never ask! Of course it is.” You smiled and placed your knee between his legs, and he trembled lightly.

Almost frantically, Kunikida was taking off your shirt, making sure to caress the sides of your waist in the process. He brought his hands down to your hips and grabbed the waistband of your bottoms hesitantly.

“Are you okay?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Yeah—of course.”

You looked like you didn’t believe him, and that would be right. “No, really, what’s wrong? Do you not like the lingerie? I can take it off if you want.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head rather violently.

“No! Definitely not.. it looks stunning on you. I just feel—well, a little bad.”

“For what?” You asked, eyes beginning to show concern. You lifted your arms up from the wall and placed them on Kunikida’s face, rubbing small circles.

“I’ve just been neglecting you lately.” He looked directly into your eyes, and all he could see was the way your eyes began to soften out of pity.

“It’s fine. I get it, work is stressful, the Guilds gone, but their effects still remain. You’re trying to make up for that. It’s respectable.”

Kunikida’s eyes widened just a little before he shut them.

“Well, how about I make it up to you?”

“Now that’s more like it!”

Kunikida chuckled and returned to what he was doing. He moved your bottoms down your hips, then down your thighs, and lastly, he let go and they fell to your ankles. In order to get out of your clothes, you stepped out of the pants.

Almost as soon as you did, Kunikida grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his arms, carrying you to your guys’ shared bedroom.

“That lingerie looks amazing. Mind if I admire it for a little longer?”

“No. Please, look for as long as you want.” You replied as you laid on your joint bed.

“I paid a pretty penny for them. Bring them to good use!”

“I promise.” Kunikida looked down as he said it, and he was eying your crotch.

“Do you mind if I taste you?”

You took a few seconds to respond.

“Huh?”

Kunikida blinked,

“Can I eat you out?”

“No—I heard you, it’s just, you’re straightforward, but even you have limits. I’m just shocked you asked so easily.”

Kunikida moved himself down until he was by your knees, and silently lifted your knees over his shoulders, before finally replying.

“You look so amazing in that, I can’t bring myself to wait. I needed to be straightforward because I need to have you against my mouth. Please?”

His confession was sweet, being dirty at the same time. It caught you off guard, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this just as much as he did.

“Yes. Go ahead, you’re gonna do great.”

A small mumble was said, before he licked at you through the panties you were wearing. It caught you completely off guard—you were expecting him to take your underwear off before going down on you, but that was too much effort apparently. He wanted to eat you out as soon as possible, so he didn’t want to waste time on taking off your underwear, you presumed.

The feeling of the lace rubbing against your clit, and his tongue making the fabric wet felt shockingly nice, and you mewled out almost immediately. Especially because the underwear wasn’t completely covering you, and was honestly more lace than it was cotton.

The friction made you carry your hand down and run your fingers through his hair, making the ponytail that was already loose from such a long day completely undone, and the rubber band fell next to Kunikida’s head. Because he was licking at your clit so tentatively, his hair quickly fell to the sides of his head and framed his face in a beautiful way.

The way his hair fell around his face didn’t change his pace at all, he was still frantic, still licking at you like a man starved. In a way, he was. You two hadn’t had sex in a few weeks, and now that he was finally torn away from his work, he was realizing how bad it had gotten. Almost as if he wanted you more dependent on him, he lifted himself up slightly so you were now laying at a small diagonal, your head against the bed, and your legs up and over his shoulders, and as a way to stabilize yourself, you linked your ankles together atop his back.

“Wha-what’re you do—agh!” You were cut off yet again by your own cry as Kunikida lifted his fingers to pull your panties to the side to completely expose you, and dove his head between your thighs yet again, sucking on your clit feverishly, using his right hand to grab your thigh and hold it in place, pulling your underwear to the side with his left.

“God..I love you, Doppo—fuck—please, I’m so c-close..”

Kunikida parted himself from your pussy and gave you his first demand.

“Say that again.”

Realizing what he wanted, you gave in and began to beg him. You just needed to come. You didn’t care how shameful you looked—you needed his hand pulling your underwear to the side as he suckled your clit with no remorse.

Despite planning to talk, Kunikida ran out of patience and gave a small kitten lick straight to your clit so you’d stop thinking about what to say and just say it, the less ordered it sounded, the hotter it was to him, in all honesty.

“A-ah! I love you, Doppo. I love the way you grab my thighs when you’re eating me out, I love the—ah!”

You were cut off from his tongue going inside of your hole, and him tongue fucking you. You were quickly given an albeit, muffled demand.

“Keep going.”

You obeyed, and nodded as fast as you could, grinding against his tongue as it moved around your walls slowly.

“I love how you fuck me with your tongue, how you make me so desperate I grind against your face—I love it all. You’re amazing, you drive me crazy—plea-ah! P-please.. keep going.. make me c-cum on your tongue!”

Kunikida couldn’t bring himself to say no to that confession, so he put more pressure on your clit again, causing him to remove his tongue from your hole.

You let out one last, loud, scarily loud moan, and came on Kunikida’s face.

“G-god.. Kunikida I haven’t come that hard in god knows how long. You really know how to get me going.” You said, chest heaving heavily as Kunikida slowly moved himself out of your thighs and next to you, caressing your hair and laying down next to you.

“Thank you.”

You laughed loudly, and turned your head over to him. “You’re so cute.” You brought your finger to trace shapes on his chest before moving your hand up to run your fingers through his hair.

“Your hair looks nice like this.”

“What do you mean?”

You looked at him with a dumb smile.

“I mean disheveled. It’s a nice reminder of what you were doing to me just a few seconds ago.”

Kunikida blushed, hard this time, and brought his hand down to rub your upper thigh gently. “Are you alright? I didn’t do too much did I?”

“No, not at all! Quite the opposite, actually,” you paused then looked down. “Don’t you want some relief? I can feel you against my thigh.”

Kunikida turned his head away quickly and became even more red.

“It’s fine.. I better get to bed. We can go at it tomorrow morning though. I’m going to be losing all constraint from holding back all night, so be prepared.”

You looked at him, slightly worried. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s already late.”

“Fine.. I’ll be waiting~”

You turned away and Kunikida pulled you close, making your back press against his chest. He decided to use this opportunity to take off your lingerie, there’s a no way that was comfortable to wear to bed. First, he unclipped the back of the bra, then he gently pulled it off your shoulders.

When he moved his hand down to pull your panties off, he accidentally brushed against one of your folds and you trembled because of it. As a way to console you for accidentally touching you when you were recovering, Kunikida gave the back of your neck a feather light kiss.

“You did amazing.. I love you.” Kunikida finally reciprocated your love confession from earlier, and all you could let out was a small hum before falling asleep.

Next chapter will be out tomorrow:) expect some Ryu naughtiness

#bungou stray dogs #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #kunikida x reader #doppo bsd #doppo kunikida x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut

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djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains · 5 months

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James and his beloved ballroom dancing teacher

a rewrite of this post/ficlet from 2021 :] and a partner to this art piece i posted yesterday.

wordcount: 8.9k words relationships: romantic 4x5, implied background 2x3. characters: ALL HUMANISED James, Gordon, Thomas, Edward, Henry, Percy, Flying Scotsman, Topham Hatt (who have talking rolls, everyone else is implied to be there or potentially name-dropped) tags/warnings: brief mention of alcohol, kissing, anxiety/spiralling thoughts. Can't think of anything else.

Kind of hurt/comfort but mostly just emotional fluff. A slowburn oneshot, if you will.

Full fic under the cut ^-^

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The anniversary of Sir Topham Hatt taking over from his father, (also Sir Topham Hatt) is a scant few months away. James won’t lie he’s been eyeing up the calendar – he’s been sensing a good opportunity – so he’s spent the past week or two voicing his …wonderings as to whether the Fat Controller will throw some sort of event, surely he should, he’s earnt one by now.

Thomas finally looks up, and eyes James over their mediocre breakroom cups of tea.

“You just want an excuse to dress up, don’t you?” he drawls, even as he idly stirs his tea, the spoon clinking against the cup.

James sticks his nose in the air even as he flushes just a little.

“And what if I do?” he huffs. “I have a lovely dress-coat that I ordered all the way from Manchester, and I haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet! A ball would be perfect! When was the last time we ever had a ball?”

Thomas stares into his tea.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had a ball,” he says, then he frowns. “Well, maybe when the queen came. But, y’know. That was the queen.”

“I’m just saying, we should have one,” James says, waving his hands. “I mean, even besides all that, surely Sir Topham Hatt deserves one. It’s been a long haul.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he does nod.

“You have a point,” he says. “You could ask him. Or are you hoping the gossip will reach him first?”

James laughs. “You know me too well,” he says. “Oop, it’s 1:40, my next train’s in five minutes. See you later, puffball!”

“Bye, bootlace,” Thomas calls back as James rises from his seat and hurries away.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It seems James’ plan has worked. Within the week, murmurs are already spreading about a ball. Hatt even sends out a letter of interest, to which actually most everyone replies with enthusiasm.

“Sir, would you let us go to the mainland to get appropriate formalwear?” James asks, eventually, when their paths cross at Knapford. “It would be a shame if we couldn’t dress to impress – the opportunity for such things comes so rarely. It’d be a real treat.”

Topham eyes him knowingly, but laughs and tugs at the lapels of his coat as he thinks.

“I have to admit, you raise a good point, James,” he nods. “I can’t let you all go at once, but… Hm. Perhaps I will organise some sort of schedule within the coming month.”

James beams. “Oh, thank you sir!”

“Before you get too excited,” Hatt smiles wryly, “Go take your next train.”

The clock overhead in the station chimes 10am. James flinches, before he nods at Hatt and hurries away.

It’s fine. He counts this as a win.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

After work today, James ends up walking home with Edward. Not that they do this often, but, well, they only live a couple flats down from each other anyway. And besides! James has a favour he needs to ask as unnaturally as possible.

“Ugh,” he starts. “The ball coming up, I’m so nervous.”

“Nervous?” Edward repeats. “That’s hardly like you, James.”

“But I don’t know how to dance,” James complains, shooting Edward a kind of look.

Edward shakes his head, frowning in fond confusion.

“Now that’s a lie,” he says. “I’ve seen you tap, James.”

“But that’s not ballroom dancing,” James stresses. “I don’t know how to- say, to waltz. I can’t show up to a real, fancy ball not knowing how to waltz.”

And Edward lets out a little snort now that he’s catching on, his smile slowly growing and his eyebrow slowly raising.

“Not like you,” James finally lays down his honey trap. “I remember seeing you dance, once, Edward, you were wonderful.”

“And you want me to teach you.”

James clasps his hands, grinning. “Yes!” he exclaims.

“No,” says Edward.

“Ah! Why not?!”

Edward laughs, and keeps walking even as James stops, putting his hands on his hips dramatically as he pouts at the back of Edward’s head.

“I need you!” James calls. “Edward, it’s my time of need!”

“Uh huh,” Edward says, not looking back and not stopping.

Eventually, James is forced to rush to catch up, and he quickly manages to fall back in step with Edward.

“But I need a teacher,” he pleads again. “Edward, I don’t want to make a fool of myself!"

"You could have fooled me,” Edward laughs, before he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Look, if you really want a good teacher, why don’t you ask Gordon? He taught me everything I know.”

James stops dead again – but this time, he has a much more different, far more flustered expression on his face. Edward stops this time, too, a few paces ahead of James, and looks back at him with a knowing smile.

“Do ask nicely though, hm?” he tacks on. “You wouldn’t want Gordon to turn you down, would you?”

James’ flush only deepens.

“Sod off,” he finally says.

“Mm, this is my house,” Edward replies, smiling, and James realises he has in fact walked Edward all the way home – past his own place, too. “I think it’s you who may have to sod off.”

James flushes redder.

Edward laughs at him, in that fond knowing way of his that’s almost more infuriating than anything else, and waves goodbye as he heads up the path to his flat.

James balls his fists, before he lets out a hissing breath between his teeth, and walks himself home while he definitely, totally, does not stew over ask Gordon.

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On Tuesdays, he has a small overlap with Gordon at Knapford at 10am.

So James is already loitering on the station platform as Gordon hops down from his engine, and Gordon spots him leaning on one of the pillars, attempting to look as casual as possible.

“Oh!” he says. “Hello there, little James.”

James hopefully manages to control his expression. He hasn’t decided if he is annoyed by the ‘little’ or if it’s grown on him, because Gordon has managed to make it sound …endearing, nowadays. Though James is, uh, may be imagining that bit. Probably.

“Hi,” he replies.

“…Were you waiting for me?” Gordon asks, and he draws in closer, pausing a good metre away and putting one hand in his pocket, resting his weight over one hip, and it’s not fair, because he looks so good and he cuts such an imposing figure in his work uniform that James has to focus to get through his sentence.

“Yes, actually,” James says, straightening up from where he was leaning against the station pillar. “A little bluebird told me you can dance.”

To James’ surprise, Gordon actually… stiffens a little. James watches his expression close up just a fraction, almost imperceptibly so if James didn’t happen to know the minutia of Gordon’s facial expressions well by this point.

“…What of it?” Gordon asks, folding his arms. He sounds somewhat… miffed.

James clasps his hands behind his back and smiles as brightly as he can.

“Teach me.”

“No.”

James pouts. “Please?”

“No.” Gordon repeats, more out of instinct, before he sighs, and looks down dolefully at James. “…Are you going to drop this, at all?”

“No,” James says sweetly. “Teach me?”

Really, James hopes Gordon will say yes without too much hounding. H-he does like the idea of learning off of Gordon. Whether Gordon denies it to not, he does carry himself in his day-to-day life with the grace of poise of a dancer. Now Edward’s mentioned it, James isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed sooner.

A-and, well, really, he trusts Gordon. Gordon will make fun of him to his face, but he probably wouldn’t tattle on James’ potential two left feet to everyone else. And James doesn’t really want to… broadcast that he’s having to learn these things. Or something. He doesn’t know, it’s probably all a bit silly anyway.

Gordon tips his head back for a moment, and sighs heavily.

“Okay,” he says.

“Now, I know that you don’t-!” James cuts himself off. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Gordon says. “Catch up with me after work, if you’re serious.”

“I’m dead serious!” James clasps his hands. “I am.”

“Well then,” Gordon says, as he nods at James before walking past him, to go get some morning tea or something, probably. “That’s that, then.”

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Gordon catches him after work, his expression somewhat intense as he grabs James’ arm and his attention. James pauses, looking up at him.

“Oh,” he says, “yes?”

“Tonight,” Gordon says, voice low, not far off murmuring into James’ ear. “Are you willing to start tonight?”

James lights up. “Yes!” he says, though he does his best to mirror Gordon’s hushed tone. “Where? When?”

Gordon snorts, amused, and pats his left trouser pocket knowingly.

“Hatt gave me a key to the ballroom they’ll be using,” he says conspiratorially. “We will practice there.”

James smiles, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“…And, I was thinking after dark,” Gordon says softly. “…Just to, shall we say, preserve our dignity.”

James flushes a little, despite himself.

“What,” he says, “you think I’m going to be that bad?”

Gordon laughs, and lets James’ arm go. He also doesn’t answer the question.

“How’s 11?” he asks instead.

“…pm?”

“Yes.”

“…Gordon.”

“…10?”

James closes his eyes for a moment. Well, if Gordon is really that embarrassed to be found with him, then fine.

“We can do 11,” he says tiredly. “You’re the one with the earlier trains, anyway.”

Gordon snorts, and nods. He gives James the address.

“Do you have dancing shoes?” he asks, as James begins to walk away.

“I got some recently,” James says, waving his hand. “I only had tap shoes before, and I didn’t think that’d quite work out.”

Gordon laughs again, before he nods at James, seemingly satisfied.

“See you later,” he says, finally raising his voice back to his normal speaking register, before he turns on his heel and strides away.

James takes a moment to massage his temple. That was weird. That was weird, right? He’s not going nuts?

“…That was weird,” comments Thomas from across the room. “What on earth were you talking about?”

“Ah!” James practically jumps out of his skin, and jolts around, glaring at his coworker. “How long have you been there?!”

“Not that long,” Thomas says, as he pulls on his coat. “But long enough to see that was kind of weird. What did he want?”

“He’s doing a favour for me,” James says, before he shakes his head and starts to walk. Thomas falls into pace beside him, head tilting in curiosity, waiting for an explanation. “…Privately.”

“Ooh,” Thomas teases. “You finally told him?”

“What?!” James goes red despite himself, and gives Thomas a shove. “You’re delusional. There’s nothing to tell. Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up!”

James speeds up, hoping it’ll make Thomas leave him alone. It notably does not. In fact, Thomas tails him the entire way back to his flat, asking leading questions the whole while, and James has to slam the bloody door closed in the prat’s face until Thomas finally leaves him alone. And James can hear Thomas’ laughter through the door as he walks away.

James takes the moment to let his back thump against the door and to cover his face, screaming into his hands a little bit, just for fun. This is… James needs a lie down, or something.

He also needs to find his dancing shoes before tonight.

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James trudges up to the hall, his bag with his shoes in it thrown over his shoulder, his coat thrown over top plain, casual clothes he doesn’t usually let people see him wear – he likes to be well presented at all times, but tonight he also needs to be comfortable enough to dance.

He’s so nervous. What if he can’t get it? What if Gordon gives up on him? What if this ruins their friendship? The building is dark, did James get the right time? The right place? He feels ill. Why couldn’t Edward have just said yes? If it turns out Gordon has stood him up, James is blaming Edward.

James tries the door handle. It’s …unlocked. He lets out a sigh of relief and slips inside.

…Wow. This room is huge. And that may be a stupid thing to say, considering it’s a ballroom, but James pauses, wide-eyed, by the door as he takes in the space. He didn’t even know the NWR had one of these.

And down the other end, Gordon is already there and waiting, though he’s lit a few candles, filling his end of the hall with a thin, watery yellow light, and he’s setting up… a tape deck?

“You still use cassettes?” James calls, and Gordon looks up at him. James hitches his bag up over his shoulder again as he crosses the room. “Way to join the modern world, Gordon.”

“What, would you have rather I brought a record player?” Gordon replies, as he inserts a cassette. “Besides, these are the tapes I learnt off. Figured it was a good place to start.”

James has to sit on the floor to swap his shoes over. Looking up at Gordon, who is still poking at the tape deck, James… drinks him in, a little. Gordon’s down to just his white button-up shirt, and he’s undone his tie and top two buttons, not to mention he’s rolled up his sleeves. James does his best not to stare at Gordon’s forearms. Gordon lets the tape start playing, and a waltz James doesn’t know the name of fills the air.

“Are you ready?”

James jumps, and shakes his head to clear it, and finishes lacing up his shoes. He rises to his feet, shedding his coat, and he puts his things to the side as Gordon watches him.

“…I don’t think I’ve never seen you in a just a t-shirt before,” Gordon comments, as James hurries back to stand in front of him.

And James looks down at himself, flushes, and wonders briefly if he should put his coat back on. It’s a long-sleeve t-shirt (red, of course), because he’s not about to let Gordon inspect his scars. It does have a lower neckline, showing the hints of some, though, and it leaves the scars on the back of his hands visible.

Gordon… doesn’t comment on any of that, though his eyes graze over them briefly.

“Feel honoured,” James jokes instead, shivering despite himself. “I don’t usually dress down.”

To his relief, Gordon laughs, and holds out his right hand to James.

“Then I do feel honoured indeed,” he says. “Now, lets begin before it gets any later, hm?”

James puts his left hand in Gordon’s, before he tries to play it cool as Gordon puts his other hand on James’ back. …Um, huh. His hands are big. And warm. James focusses on looking Gordon in the eye instead of reacting to the feeling of Gordon’s hands on him.

“Put your hand on my shoulder,” says Gordon. “And don’t lean your arm on mine. You should be poised.”

James blinks, but nods, words escaping him, and he strikes the pose he thinks he’s supposed to – he can copy what he’s seen on Strictly Come Dancing at least this much.

“Good,” Gordon says. “Now, we’ll start with the waltz.”

James… James actually gets his head around it far quicker than he expected, which he is thoroughly relieved by. He does have his eyes glued to their feet, and he sometimes steps backwards when he shouldn’t, but, successfully, he hasn’t stood on Gordon’s toes yet.

Gordon spends the night teaching James a basic going-in-a-little-circle thing.

“I do expect you to memorise all the steps,” Gordon does say eventually. “But it will be less important for you, seeing as you’ll be following a lead anyway. As long as you can be reactive, read what is coming next, and follow it, then you should be fine.”

James’ arms feel heavy, his feet feel sore. It’s been a good long while since he’s had a dancing lesson of any sort. The muscles in his legs are reminding him of that fact so courteously.

…Gordon smiles at him anyway, though.

“Well done,” he says, and James blinks in surprise at the compliment. “It’s not often anyone picks it up that fast.”

“Was I quicker than Edward?” James asks, half-teasing as he steps back, taking his hands off Gordon and stretching a little.

Gordon laughs, his head tipping back, and it rings around the empty room. James finds himself smiling in response to the sound, he’s always liked Gordon’s laugh.

“Yes, James,” Gordon says. “You were indeed. Now, it’s… late. We should finish.”

James swaps his shoes back over and pulls on his coat, and Gordon blows out the candles and turns off the tape deck, though he leaves it where it is. And he swaps his shoes out, too, and turns to an already waiting James.

“I’ll walk you home?” James offers.

“…If you insist,” Gordon says, and he gives James a little smile that almost looks a little fond, if James dares to believe as such.

They walk quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, and James pauses as Gordon stops by James’ front gate.

“You don’t need to double back,” Gordon says. “I can manage the rest on my own, I think.”

“Oh,” James says. “…Of course. Thank you, by the way. I didn’t expect you to go quite this late.”

“You were doing well,” Gordon shrugs. “I didn’t want to…” he gestures vaguely with one hand, “…interrupt the flow of progress.”

James shifts on his feet. “When will we do this again?” he asks.

“Tomorrow?” Gordon offers, before he blinks at himself even as James looks up at him. “I-if you like.”

“Okay,” James agrees before he considers whether he should. “That’d be splendid.”

“Done.” Gordon says, before his lips quirk into a wry, lopsided smile, and he tacks on, “Sleep well, James.”

James nods, and hurries down the path to his front door without another word. It’s once he’s unlocking the door that he realises Gordon’s waiting for him to go inside before he leaves. So James waves goodbye, closes the door behind him, and watches through the peephole for a moment to see Gordon walk away.

His heart is racing. James hangs up his coat by the door, presses the flats of his palms to his cheeks to check whether they’re as hot as they feel before he stumbles his way to bed.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Time passes. At first, it was rough, returning to the habit of dancing every day, but a month has passed, and there’s only one month more until the ball, and James and Gordon have been meeting to practice by candlelight every night. James is even used to the adjustment of sleeping schedule now.

Is it silly that James really likes the candlelight aspect? It’s… romantic, if he may be so bold. Though on the other hand, it feels almost mean to take up so much of Gordon’s time like this. Yes, James asked, and asked again when Gordon said no, but Gordon is giving him far much more time than James had ever considered he’d be willing to give.

Which is very nice of him. But… James just didn’t expect it, he supposes.

Over those four weeks, Gordon has gone from bossing him through the steps and correcting his form, to… quietly complimenting him when James pulls off a nice piece of footwork. And there’s been more and more compliments than before, even though Gordon has gotten quieter. That’s the only way James can put it. Gordon’s been talking less and watching more – he must actually be quite quiet if you just leave Gordon be. And… Gordon has just been looking. At James. Sometimes, he seems distracted doing so.

And James can’t help but admit he’s guilty in return. James didn’t realise how dark Gordon’s eyes are, how warm and rich a brown they are – not until they’re looking down at him, glinting in the candle light.

It’s as James waves Gordon goodbye one night more, Gordon standing with his hands in his pockets under the streetlight, and Gordon smiles and nods and waits for James to close the door, that it all hits him.

James closes the door so Gordon can’t see his face as he flushes dark, and he puts his hands flat on the door and leans there, bracing himself as he flushes hot and flushes cold, and-

Cinders. Cinders and ashes. James has a crush on Gordon.

Like, okay, fine. Fine! James has ‘had a crush on Gordon’ for a while. He thinks the guy is big and proud and strong and pretty and handsome and all those good things, but James had actually always considered that fairly superficial. Maybe even bordering on jealousy, if he really wanted to try analysing himself. And that was the biggest reason why he never wanted to tell anyone, and why the idea of telling Gordon felt so mortifying. Because… what if it wasn’t real?

But now? This time? This is… this is a real, actual crush. James turns so he can put his back to the door, flopping there as he feels a little lightheaded, standing in the dark of the entrance hall of his home. He hardly knows what to do with himself like this.

A-at the very least, they’re good dance partners. It feels pretty natural, actually. James is surprised how natural it feels. They dance best when they aren’t bickering – and… Gordon and him haven’t bickered for a while.

James shivers, and marches himself into the kitchen to go drink a glass of water and then throw a glass of water in his face. He’s being melodramatic. Despite that, he almost feels like he’s coming down with something, now the realisation’s hit him.

It’s moments like this where James is glad he lives alone. No one to see him like this, no one to make fun of him. No one to ask weaselly little questions that make him feel more confused.

He shakes his head, grips the sink as he takes a big breath in and a big breath out, before he whisks himself off to bed. Maybe he’ll sleep it off.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Nope. Three weeks until the ball and James has to acknowledge that he is, in fact, in love with Gordon. He has to grapple with this night after night as Gordon’s hands are on him and he gets to rest his hands on Gordon, and he can spend the whole time studying Gordon’s face instead of having to look at his feet, because Gordon has gotten him good enough that James doesn’t need to watch his feet anymore. And Gordon’s even taught him multiple dances at this point, though James is still learning the tango. The foxtrot and the quickstep were easy enough. And sillily enough, he didn’t consider Gordon to be a man who knew how to tango.

The candlelight catches Gordon’s eye again, as they turn a corner, and it makes James’ breath hitch a little, before he swallows the rising guilt in his throat, and opens his mouth.

“If, uh,” he starts slowly, following Gordon’s lead as they do the fancier turn Gordon taught him, “if you ever want to learn how to tap, for any reason, I can teach you too, if you want.”

Gordon tilts his head. “Well,” he says, lips quirking into a little smile as he leads James through a promenade and spinning him at the end for good measure, “I don’t know when I’d need that, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Or even something like-!”

James can’t help the rising agitation in his voice, and to his- his- his horror? Gordon comes to a complete halt, making James stop with him, and he raises an eyebrow at James even as his hands feel so heavy where they rest in James’ own and on James’ hip. It kills the words trying to form in James’ throat.

“What’s all this about, James?”

Cinders, Gordon asks it so plainly.

“I feel guilty,” James blurts – before he can think about whether he even should. “For taking up so much of your time.”

Gordon pauses, pursing his lips, and he looks quietly amused for a moment, before he shrugs. “You’re not taking anything I’m not willing to give,” he says, and he gives James an enigmatic smile, and James wishes the man would stop talking in circles. “I don’t mind spending my time like this.”

I don’t mind you, is what Gordon’s eyes seem to say. James hopes his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. He’s almost shaking.

“But!” Gordon finally lifts his hands away. “If you really feel that way, then I’ll take a batch of your scones after this is all over.”

And James laughs at that, slightly too loudly, a burst of the frantic energy that was building inside him, and he smiles and nods and steps backwards so the gloom will hide his expression which most certainly must be moonstruck. “Done,” he agrees.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The time has been flying by. It’s now the week of the ball, and James should be excited. They’re still practicing by candlelight in the ballroom in the evenings, but the ballroom is slowly getting populated with things like tables and lights and decorations as the days pass, signalling the ball’s arrival.

James feels anxious! He’s not even sure why. It’s clearly not over his ability to dance. They can now run several dances start to end, and at multiple speeds, with ease. He’s even figured out that tango.

It dawns on him gently as he and Gordon are doing their latest lap, breezing down the entire length of the ballroom, that James doesn’t want this to end. He wants his candlelit nights with Gordon, stolen away from the chaos that daytime and the railway and their workmates present.

He likes this. He likes Gordon.

So when Gordon is asked to give his key back three days before the event, James can’t help but look distressed at the news. And Gordon laughs, he claps James on the back and tells him not to worry because he’s going to be fine.

Gordon doesn’t… get it, then. James takes a breath in, a breath out, and offers Gordon a smile and a little thank you. That’s fine. Gordon doesn’t… have to get it.

It has left him sitting in the breakroom, staring into his tea as he muses over it all, though. And while he doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps, he does hear the clink of a mug set down, and the thump of someone taking the seat across from him, and Thomas asking, “What’s got you so glum?”

James jumps, not realising he must have been wearing his heart on his sleeve, and offers Thomas a smile even as he goes to drink his tea to try hide his misery.

It makes Thomas eye him warily.

“Gordon’s not broken your heart, has he?” he asks.

James chokes on his drink, and splutters, “I beg your pardon?!”

Thomas laughs at him, leaning back in his seat, and James glances around the room to doublecheck that they are thankfully alone right now.

“Edward mentioned to me that you’d been having lessons,” Thomas winks, gesturing a cheers with his tea.

“That wanker.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Thomas quickly follows up, eyeing James over his mug, before he smiles that cheeky smile of his. “Mostly because I know you’ll have my head.”

“Damn right,” James says, and he takes a pointed drink of his tea, not even wanting to know how red he’s gone right now.

“Easy,” Thomas raises a hand in defeat. “I guess I’m just checking in. You’re looking pretty put out.”

James sighs. His shoulders sag. He cups his hands around his tea and stares into it.

“I’m just in a little over my head, I think,” he mumbles.

“More like head over heels.”

“I’ll throw this at you. Don’t think I wont.”

That makes Thomas laugh, even as James tries to glare at him, before Thomas’ expression softens.

“James,” he says, in a quiet voice that makes James’ stomach drop. “In all seriousness. I’ve known Gordon for longer than you have, and… if he didn’t want to have you around, he simply wouldn’t.”

James gives up on trying not to flush.

Thomas opens his mouth again, before he clearly decides against saying more, and he gets to his feet, shaking his head before he drains the last of his tea from his mug.

“Think about telling him, maybe,” he suggests, before he pats James on the shoulder and leaves the room, leaving James to stew in his thoughts, and try to gather himself before his afternoon train.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The night of the ball itself is absolutely brimming with excitement. Everyone is dressed to the nines, in their fancy clothes from the mainland that Sir Topham Hatt let them all go get, and the energy is infectious. The crowd is full of people he knows and people he doesn’t, it seems all of Sodor’s invited, and about half of England too.

James himself is wearing his lovely red dress-coat, all wine-red and gold braid, his crispest white gloves, a cravat and a lovely pair of red boots he had to go buy from the mainland too, which are just perfect for dancing in after he’s spent the week breaking them in. And he’s grinning like a lunatic as he drinks in the room around him – the ballroom he’s only ever seen in half-light has absolutely exploded with life and colour and noise.

From behind him, someone clears their throat. James spins on his heel to see Gordon standing there, and oh! He’s looking absolutely resplendent in midnight blue tails of his own, adorned with silver braids, and a single red flower (a rose or a carnation, James can’t tell) in his lapel.

James grins as he sees it, feeling a little less self-conscious about the rich blue pocket square he added to his own outfit too.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Gordon beats him to it.

“You look just splendid,” Gordon says, awed.

James preens at that, he can’t help it. He then smooths down his coat and pointedly looks Gordon up and down in return, letting his admiration shine on his face. “I could say the same for you,” he says.

“Have you heard about all the invitations?” Gordon says, stepping in a little closer as someone slips behind him. “Hatt sent some out to celebrities who’ve been involved with the railway.”

“Oh, yes, I heard,” James nods. “I’ve even seen City of Truro here tonight! Fancy him coming along, Duck will be pleased.”

“Yes, yes,” Gordon says, glancing around. “But…”

James’s face falls in realisation. “Ah.”

“Yes. Not only did Hatt invite my brother, but he damn well accepted,” Gordon half-laughs, tugging at his lapels, straightening them, “and Hatt only told me this morning! And I know how Scott likes to present himself, so… I couldn’t be shown up.”

“Of course,” James agrees politely, but he purses his lips, reading the anxiety weighing down Gordon’s board shoulders with ease. “…Do you want to avoid him?”

“No,” Gordon says, almost too quickly, and he steps back to accept a couple flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to James, and James sips it politely before his eyes go wide, Hatt really didn’t spare any expense on getting the good stuff, huh? “I just… hope it will be less frigid tonight than the last time we spoke.”

James looks up at Gordon sympathetically, who muses on his statement for a moment longer, before he shakes his head like he’s shaking off water, and Gordon turns to him, smiling.

“But enough of that!” he exclaims, and offers James his arm. “I do believe we’re under distinct instructions to enjoy ourselves.”

James laughs, and takes it, stepping in closer as a couple tries to slip by them to get to the dance floor.

“Shall we go attack the hors d’oeuvres before Henry does?” he offers.

Gordon laughs, and pats James’ wrist with surprising tenderness, it almost makes James gasp.

“That’s a splendid idea,” he grins back, the ice finally melting from his face.

James’ heart totally doesn’t not skip a beat over the way Gordon says splendid.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It’s all fine. The evening goes fine! It’s now about 9pm, and the room is now lit with electric lights, candles, and strings of fairy lights. It really does make the mood more magical. James splits off now, to go natter with his friends. He gets heckled by Thomas and Percy, but they’re all laughing, and James has to compliment their formal gear too.

“It’s nice to finally get a flattering tailor, I’ll tell you that much,” Percy says, smoothing down his coat. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a waistcoat before.”

“And I can’t remember the last time I actually wore a tie,” Thomas jokes, making a show of tugging his collar. “But really, James, I see why you wanted to dress up so badly. You look great.”

James plays up preening, and does a little spin for them. “Thank you,” he says. “Call me vain, but honestly, I do find it splendid to see everyone dressed up like this.”

“It’s true,” Thomas nods. “I’ve seen more pretty gowns tonight than I think I have in my whole life. Have you seen what Emily’s wearing? Showstopper.”

“So many sequins,” Percy nods.

James moves closer to their side so he can take in the whole room, and as his eyes graze over the dance floor, he realises Edward and Henry are out there.

And then he barks with laughter.

“What’s up?” Thomas asks.

“I see why Edward refused to teach me!” James laughs, and points them out. “Look.”

Henry is leading, god bless him, and he’s very, very carefully watching their feet. He’s not unconfident, certainly, but he’s not necessarily confident either, and glancing up at Edward’s face, who’s smiling encouraging at him, and not even wincing when Henry steps on his toes.

“That’s cute,” Percy says. “Good for them.”

And… watching them go? Maybe it’s the live music. Maybe it’s the candlelight. Maybe it’s the champagne. But James is suddenly possessed with the need to go find Gordon and drag him out onto the dance floor right now.

“Excuse me,” he says, and Thomas smiles at him knowingly, and James flips him off for fun even as he begins to weave his way through the crowd.

James finds himself outside, stepping through the grand French doors that have been thrown open to welcome the warm summer night. The spill-out area is filled with classy outdoor furniture, there’s fairy lights everywhere, the gardens have been completely redone and all the hedges are beautifully trimmed, and there, standing off to the side, is Gordon and his brother.

Gordon’s laughing along to whatever Scot is saying, but the way he has his arms folded across his chest, the set of his shoulders, the way his body is angled away from the conversation, it’s clear to anyone who knows him well that he’s a little too uncomfortable right now.

So James makes a beeline for him, and pops up by Gordon’s elbow.

“Hullo, Gordon!” he chirps warmly, and smiles as the tension just rolls of Gordon now someone else is here. “And, hello,” he says, polite yet slightly stiff to Scot, who nods at him and offers him the big smile of someone who is very used to meeting new people.

“Hello!” he says, and offers James a hand to shake, which James does take (and tries not to wince at the strength of his grip). “Who might you be?”

“James,” James offers. “I’m a good friend of Gordon’s.”

“Aha!” Scot’s face lights up far more genuinely this time. “Gordie was just telling me about you.”

James tastefully manages not to laugh at Gordie, more so because he’s jumping straight into oh broken buffers, what did Gordon say about him?

“My prized student,” Gordon jokes, lightly elbowing him, and James grins back.

“Speaking of,” he says. “I reckon we go show Henry and Edward up. They’re not too bad, but Henry can’t keep his eyes off their feet.”

Gordon and Scot both laugh at that, and Scot graciously lets them go.

“Thank you,” Gordon leans down to whisper in James’ ear as they walk away. “It always feels like an interrogation with him.”

“It’s alright,” James shrugs. “I… had a gut feeling. Anyway. You want to dance?”

Gordon seems to be keeping himself from glancing over his shoulder.

James frowns softly at him. “We don’t have to,” he adds.

“Oh, nonsense,” Gordon says, and the hand Gordon has on James’ shoulder squeezes gently. “I’d love to. Let’s let this song finish first.”

They have to muscle their way through the crowd, ending up slipping past Hatt himself, who pats Gordon on the back and offers James a smile and nod as they go past. Before long, they end up out on the dance floor as the next song ends.

“Any ideas?”

“My guess is waltz,” Gordon says, adjusting his cufflinks before he offers his hands to James. “They’ve played a couple fast numbers back-to-back.”

“You’ve found our warmup, then. How thoughtful,” James laughs, stepping into Gordon’s arms. It’s so easy to lay his hand on Gordon’s shoulder now, to feel Gordon’s fingers curl around his hand. James isn’t sure how he ever could have dreaded it.

He laughs again as Gordon turns out to be right.

The music starts, and it’s just so natural to follow Gordon’s lead. And they’re off! Off around the dance floor, and Gordon successfully steers them through the crowd, pulling James out of the way of a close call of a collision with a quick pivot and a spin.

As they draw back together, Gordon eyes him, and James blinks back.

“You alright?” he asks. “You look flustered.”

“Flustered!” James exclaims, trying to play it off. “Me? Never.”

And Gordon actually… laughs at that, laughs at him, and James is struck with the realisation that perhaps… Gordon knows.

Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?

“Well,” James changes tune, and he smirks up and Gordon. “In truth, I was just so taken by how handsome you look tonight.”

Now it’s Gordon’s turn to stammer, to falter, and for the colour to leap to his face. James hasn’t ever been brave enough to flirt before, but clearly, it works, and if Gordon’s going play that game then James can match him.

“Obviously,” Gordon manages to catch himself. “You must’ve liked the blue.”

He nods towards James’ pocket square, and James shakes his head with a bashful little smile.

“And I can see you went to match!” he nods back at Gordon’s flower.

Gordon goes to speak, before his eyes widen, and he quickly pulls James in close as another, far less-coordinated couple barrels past them, before letting James migrate back to the normal dancing distance.

“You do mean it? You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course I do,” James’ grin drops into something far softer despite his best efforts, and he says his next statement with far more heart than he means to. “I think you’re splendid.”

Gordon meets his eyes with a look that James literally cannot describe with any other word except tender.

“We need to talk, don’t we?” he asks, so softly, it’s amazing James can hear it over the music and the chatter.

“I’m listening now,” he replies.

Gordon swallows hard, before they’re brought to a halt as the song ends, and they – along with the rest of the dancers – politely clap for the musicians, before the next song starts. A quickstep. James’ face lights up instantly, and Gordon grins.

“Time to do some laps?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They are the fastest and most fluid pair on the dancefloor. James’ dress-coat flairs out behind them in a most stunning way as they go all but flying past, a whirl of red and blue, and James can tell people are watching, and he’s relishing in it, grinning so brightly as Gordon smiles back.

They’re left panting and laughing and stumbling off the floor as the song ends – as not only the crowd but the band applaud them too. Gordon waves it off with a laugh. James takes a playful little bow, before they both stagger off to go find somewhere to sit and catch their breath.

Edward appears out of the crowd, Henry in tow, as James and Gordon find some seats, and James passes Gordon a drink.

“That,” Edward says, “was the most impressive thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

James chortles and slumps back, slumps back against Gordon without thinking, feeling Gordon tense under him for just a moment before he… yields, and melts a little back.

“You were doing well, too,” Gordon nods at Henry. “James wasn’t learning to dance from square one.”

“Just let a man be jealous in peace,” Henry grumbles jokingly, plopping himself down next to James with an oomph. “I don’t know how you manage being on your feet for that long, sometimes. I even got new comfortable shoes and my back is still killing me.”

As James pats his arm in consolation, Edward turns to Gordon with a glint in his eye.

“Dance?” he asks, holding out a hand. “For old time’s sake?”

Gordon fights down his smile, but gets up with no hesitation. Though he pauses a moment later, and glances back at James. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

“Sure thing,” James waves them off with a smile. “Show them all up.”

That makes Edward laugh, and the two of them disappear back into the throng to go dance.

James leans his head back against the wall, letting out a big, contented sigh.

“You alright?” Henry asks, as he shifts on his seat.

“Yeah, I am,” James says happily. “Or, I think so.”

Then he eyes Henry, and frowns, before he reaches over to the seats beside them and starts stealing all their cushions.

“Here, you look miserable,” he says, and helps pad Henry’s seat a little more.

“Thanks,” Henry says breathlessly. “I thought I was going to be alright, I really did.”

“No, no,” James nods along, “I understand. Especially when you’re not used to dancing.”

“How long have you and Gordon been practicing?” Henry asks.

“…Two?” James tries to count back on his fingers. “Yeah, two months.”

“Oh, thank god you said months!” Henry slaps his thigh with a laugh. “If you had said weeks, I really would have to start feeling bad!”

James laughs at him, and he opens his mouth to say something, before he realises someone is standing over them, and the two of them look up, and James tries really hard not to let his jaw drop as he realises it’s none other than superstar Scot Gresley, the Flying Scotsman himself.

“Hello Henry, James,” Scot says warmly, and Henry greets him back. James almost asks how they know each other, but glancing between them, it’s the cut of their noses that reminds James of all the drama a few years back. Henry’s got a little Gresley in him, too, that’s right, he always forgets that they’ve met before.

“James, that was some wonderful work out on the floor,” Scot turns to him, and James tries not to flush and gape, and he plays it off as politely as he can. “Would you dance with me?”

James… stares. Blinks once or twice. Henry’s gone a little stiff with surprise beside him, too. Scot extends his hand, still offering a warm smile, and after a second or two, James hesitantly takes it, rising from his seat. Scot’s fingers curl around his hand, but it doesn’t feel as gentle or soothing as Gordon. And as Scot starts to lead James out onto the dance floor, James shoots a look back over his shoulder at Henry, who mouths ‘good luck’ to him as they go.

Before he knows it, James is out on the floor, being lead through steps he knows so well by the Gresley brother he doesn’t know at all. And somehow, Scott is even faster and even lighter on his feet, and James can’t even make small talk for how much he has to concentrate on keeping up – which, notably, does not help his nerves. And Scot keeps this up for the whole quickstep, before they pause as the song changes, James fighting to hide that he needs to catch his breath.

As a slow waltz starts, Scot… relaxes, slows down, and shoots James a wink.

“Just wanted to test how good a teacher my brother is,” he banters. “You’ve both done very well.”

James blinks and swallows hard, before he offers a polite smile of his own.

“Thank you,” he says. “Gordon is a good teacher.”

“…You seem to make him happy.”

James stumbles, now, sheer shock, and his head snaps up to look Scot in the eye. Scot looks back evenly at him, lets James stare. …Scot has Gordon’s brown eyes, but the strength of his sideburns, his eyebrows, the slightly harder set of his face, even his sharper jawline. It’s just… not quite his Gresley.

“I hope you treat him kindly,” Scot continues, his voice dropping, but James flushes and is so glad he’s wearing gloves because he’s gone all clammy. “Gordon deserves something good to happen to him, and you do seem to be a delight.”

“I…” James is – as uncommon as the phenomenon is – lost for words. His old anxiety sweeps through him, makes his knees weak, and he hopes he isn’t shaking.

“I’m not asking you this as a celebrity,” Scot suddenly adds, his expression crumpling with concern as he must read all that straight off James’ face. “I’m asking you this as his brother.”

“I-I… of course,” James says, biting his tongue about telling Scot about how much Gordon didn’t want to talk to him tonight, because if Scot is so concerned about Gordon, then they’d have a better relationship, wouldn’t they? Cinders. And ashes. He wants out. James looks away, and ends up seeing Gordon and Edward, who are surprisingly close by, and they’re both shooting him concerned looks.

James bites his lip now, hoping he doesn’t look as upset as he feels, though he’s never really been good at hiding it. Don’t hurt Gordon? James hasn’t dreamt of it, not now, not anymore. He’s realised Gordon doesn’t really ever talk about his past before Sodor, and that’s telling in itself, isn’t it?

It must be the fact James is being asked this by someone who has probably hurt Gordon in the past is the thing that makes it sting like this. …What? Can Scot see that James is no better? Is that what Scot means by warning him?

Scot says nothing more either. James closes his eyes for a moment, willing the song to end, but suddenly, someone taps his shoulder, and he knows that hand, which is such a strange thing to say, isn’t it? His eyes fly open, because thank god, it’s Gordon and Edward. They must have danced their way through the crowd.

“You remember my friend, Edward, don’t you?” Gordon calls over the hubbub. “He’d love to catch up with you.”

“Of course,” Scot smiles broadly, …the practiced smile, James notes. He turns back to James, then, and squeezes his hand gently.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he says, and it does actually sound earnest, which is nice. It doesn’t soothe James’ nerves, though. “I hope you’ll keep our talk in mind.”

“I will,” is all James says, and he lets Edward take his place with a grateful, if not a little faint, smile.

Gordon practically dances their way off the dancefloor now, and James is more than eager to follow where Gordon leads. They end up pushing and weaving past several of their friends and workmates as they go, and James must still look a little stricken because he gets a few concerned glances as they go.

Gordon ends up leading him outside, and James immediately takes a few big breaths in and out as soon as the cooling evening breeze hits his face. It’s too stuffy, too loud, too much in there.

And as soon as it’s quiet, as they’re in private, as James can breathe, Gordon takes him by the shoulders and turns James so Gordon can look at him.

“What did he say to you?” he asks, and his voice is… surprisingly dark.

“He warned me,” James says, and he does his best not to sound bitter, but he thinks he fails. “He said I better not hurt you because you deserve nice things. A-and he’s right, but it rubbed me the wrong way.”

Gordon scoffs. “Bloody rich, coming from him,” he agrees, before his hands slip down from James’ shoulders, skating down his arms to take James’ shaking hands in his own. “Are you okay?”

“Just needlessly upset,” James manages to smile, though his eyes are a little too bright to sell it. “I come here expecting a good time and I get both a personal dance and a personal threat from the Flying Scotsman. Not your average evening, I’ll admit.”

Gordon squeezes his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, Gordon,” James says, gently squeezing back. “I suppose I was insulted that… that he’d insinuate I’d hurt you on purpose. I care about you far too much for that.”

And-

They both flush at that. That’s the first time either of them has said it plainly.

“That’s… heartening to hear,” Gordon smiles softly at him. “And it only took me turning you into the best ballroom dancer on this island.”

And James laughs. The tension finally draining away, his stomach finally settling. He’s glad Gordon’s holding onto him now, because he feels light, and he wouldn’t want to float away.

“I have to admit it too, then,” Gordon’s practically whispering again, his voice rumbling low, and it makes James shiver. “I’ve… grown quite fond of you, too.”

James steps in a little closer, it just feels right.

“That’s good,” he says.

Then, looking Gordon in the eye then and there, the nerves come crashing back in, and James ducks his head, drops his chin, and starts fiddling with Gordon’s cufflinks instead.

Suddenly, there’s a hand cupping his cheek, and James can’t breathe. Gordon tips his head back up, and smiles at him – all soft and tender, all for James.

“Is this okay?”

“Bah!” James tries to laugh past his dark flush, turning his head away, withdrawing one hand to touch his cheek, he can feel the heat there even through his gloves. “You say that like I haven’t been in love with you for months!”

“Months…?”

James laughs again, bright and embarrassed, before he dares to look back at Gordon. His flush darkens at the painfully fond expression Gordon’s wearing, and James finds himself grinning.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he says instead.

Gordon – several things cross his face in that moment. A flush of his own. Wonder, awe, tenderness, a little shock, and most importantly – Gordon rolls his eyes fondly and leans down to oblige him.

As their lips slot together, James makes a little noise of contentment, and drapes his arms around Gordon’s neck dreamily. Oh, this is good. This is what James has been dreaming about. Officially, this has been the best investment of dancing lessons James has ever made.

When they break apart for air, and James gets his breath back, he finally invites Gordon around tomorrow for those scones he promised however long ago it was, and Gordon has barely any time to accept before James kisses him again.

And… oh, for god’s sake. They pull apart again at the sound of applause from the doorway, and James turns to see… Edward and Henry, Thomas, Percy, god, even Toby and Henrietta, Emily, Rosie, Molly, Daisy, …is that all four of the Little Westerners? And more. It’s far too big a crowd, and James is suddenly wondering if him and Gordon was some kind of soap opera to the wider North-Western Railway, which makes him flush.

Thomas cups his mouth and hoots, “snog him again!”

James goes to yell back before Gordon pulls him in, and James immediately softens, looking into Gordon’s eyes, and he accepts the kiss Gordon gives him, Gordon wrapping his arms around James and dipping him with ease, and James lets Gordon hold his bodyweight as he frees one hand to lovingly flip off the crowd of onlookers.

They once again receive a round of cheers and applause. James doesn’t care, though, not when he can cling to Gordon and Gordon’s lips can brush his own, and Gordon’s breath can dance over his skin, and Gordon’s hands are on him, and this is real, and they’re…

James tears up.

“I love you,” he whispers, too quiet for anyone but Gordon to hear. “I love you. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“It was no bother, little James,” Gordon says, so very fondly, and James shivers again at the way his voice rumbles when he speaks low and quiet. “I love you too.”

It’s a shame the night has to end. James doesn’t want it to end at all. And here, kissing Gordon under the stars, it almost feels like it never has to.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

thank you for reading! reblogs are always appreciated and feel free to let me know what you think of this ^-^

#ttte #thomas the tank engine #ttte humanized #ttte james #ttte gordon #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte flying scotsman #4x5 #romantic 4x5 #ttte shipping #ttte fanfic #ttte fic #ttte fanfiction #this is the first ttte fic ive been able to write in ages <3 feels pretty good man tbh

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davekat-sucks · 1 month

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homestuck's fanbase is really making me feel like giving up on the story as a whole... Jesus, I might just call it quits soon. Listening to idiots try to defend how shit Homestuck's story became is too exhausting. It reminds me of when I was listening to lectures of, people who hardly counted as, writers go off about how important it is to prioritize representation over all else. They never realized if you do a terrible job with writing a story, you do a terrible job of representing women, different racial groups, gay men, ext. They don't want to write female characters like they're people who make mistakes and grow. Those authors wanted women to always be perfect and always in the right and her biggest obstacle is that men don't believe in her. You can see that in Star Wars with Rei or Captain Marvel as an example of the mindset I'm talking about.

I liked homestuck because so many of the female characters had challenges and flaws. Aradia, Terezi, Rose... They had amazing stories and their flaws made them interesting.

Homestuck could have been a story about different people who have completely different mindsets coming together for a common goal. Homestuck is just... soap opera drama and shitty teen romance at the end of the story where the characters just wait for the story to finish and most of the audience left. In the epilogue, it feels like all of the characters gave up. I suppose Kanaya did put in effort to find Rose and make sure she is safe, I'll give the story credit there. Dirk wants something too. Dirk's goal is just to close the loop and create the first universe in the first place but all you ever hear people talking about is how his motivations have something to do with the shitty meta fiction gimmick the story has going on. "Gotta keep the story going or else the characters fade out of memory" That is such bullshit concept. Sounds like a justification for why there are so many Star Wars shows now. Sounds like milking an IP. Quantity of quality kind of excuse.

And, for the record, my beef isn't with how the fandom represents it's own headcanons or interpretations of the characters, my beef is with how people talk about the canon. Fandom and canon should be two different things. But people act like the fandom should influence canon. I thought the point of both of the cherubs were to show that is a bad idea. Fanon being in canon feels like it derails the story, even the homosuck part that Caliborn came up with.

I'm getting tired of trying to even find a space in this fandom. It's occupying too much of my freetime now. I have so much nostalgia for homestuck but now it feels like trying to get back on the swings of a playground, too old for this shit. Fuck, I adulted too hard and I outgrew fandom I guess. Shit sucks.

Ah well, at least they fans are having fun. But how much fun can you really have when Rose screwed over Kanaya in two timelines? Kanaya felt like a better character in the epilouge cause she's given a challenge to face that is unique to her and her relationship with her wife. Rose's dad brainwashed(?) her to leave her wife, wow, Kanaya that's some shit. Just sucks that she is getting cucked AGAIN. Is it a universal constant that Kanaya is just going to keep falling for women who don't respect her? Maybe she should have stuck with Vriska. All of this Kanaya Rose drama is a bad sign of what's to come. I think it's disrespectful to the fans that are still sticking around. I'm not really included in this bunch. My horse tapped out of the race years ago. People who are still holding out for hope this story is going somewhere are either the most optimistic people out there or the most beaten down.

It's no wonder so many people who worked on homestuck abandoned ship. Toby looks like he's having a good career and Hussie looks like he's afraid of what he created. Maybe there is poetic justice to be gleaned from all of this.

It had lot of creative ideas and talent. But through it, there are cracks and messes that can't be ignored. Even now, the same kind of messes appear again in present times and I think people are scared to talk about it in fear that the thing they love was not as great as they though it was. We really are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Even when moments in the series and narrative itself that tells the audience that we were stupid to even care, we stayed because we loved it for what it was back then before the meta shit kicked in. The whole revival of the series so it won't fade away and being comparable to Star Wars is a good way to describe it. The team not taking risks to actually go outside of the Homestuck cast, tell a new story, or even trying to focus on the base webcomic alone that made it popular in the first place. They can't even put more focus on Hiveswap just yet because they know people know Homestuck first before Hiveswap, despite said game could make a better introduction or entryway for people to get interested in the webcomic. I'm not sure what is going on through Hussie or James Roach's mind for all this.

#homestuck #homestuck fandom

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year

Text

Imagine A Buzzed Slider Flirting With You

Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner X Fem!Kazansky Reader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, slightly drunk Slider, Iceman is a protective older brother and it annoys reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Requested by @iceman-kazansky

Taglist: @the-marshals-wife

Part 2 here

(A/N:) Thank you so much for this fun request! I had a hard time figuring out how I wanted to start it but when I finally got that the rest was cake! I adore writing requests for this fandom cause they are always so fun and creative! And I love writing all these great characters! I hope this was everything you were hoping it would be! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Life as the sister of Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky was hardly ever easy, especially when he had the tendency of being the protective older brother. Though it wasn’t all bad, when you found yourself in one of the most popular bars in Fightertown USA celebrating your brother’s achievement with all the other pilots of Top Gun. Though surrounded by handsome pilots, Ice had a strict policy of no dating Navy pilots, and he had drilled harshly into the heads of his fellow pilots and crewman that you were off the market to any and all forms of Navy men. You snorted at the thought taking another sip from your beer mug as Iceman conversed with you about the different maneuvers he had to perform during his most recent dogfight. Normally you would be interested in your brother’s exploits but tonight you wanted to have fun and enjoy the night talking with others (maybe have some potential relationships open up). Not be the untouchable sister of the elite pilot in the whole Navy that everyone was told to avoid and not touch.

“You okay,” Ice finally interrupted your moody thoughts as his eyes searched yours worriedly.

“Yeah fine,” you replied looking away and sipping more at your beer. “Just a long week Ice. I’m really tired.”

“You could have just told me you didn’t feel like going out tonight. I would have understood.”

“And miss the chance to celebrate my big bro’s achievement? Heck no!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he answered though his body language proved he thought otherwise than his spoken words.

You snorted punching him in the shoulder, “Some of us have to make do being lowly nurses working long shifts.”

“What you do is really important,” Iceman cut you short never one to let you demean yourself or compare your line of work to his. “There’s no way that I’m not proud of you because you aren’t a Navy pilot like me. You’re job as a nurse helps more than I ever will.”

“Chill out there Ice,” you chuckled a little bitterly. “I know how you pilots like your ego stroked.”

Before Ice could retort several pilots came up to you two, slapping him on the back before pulling him away from you towards one of the pool tables sitting in the middle of the bar. He looked back towards you reluctantly before tapping another pilot sitting at a table on the shoulder. Ice spoke a few words and then he nodded before getting up and making his way towards you still standing at the bar. You rolled your eyes turning away, another babysitter to watch over you while your brother played pool. Just when you got rid of one killjoy, the first killjoy hires a second one. While waiting for this newest lookout made his way to the bar you begin to plot on how you could possibly escape this torture when you caught something out of the corner of your eye. One of the waitresses that had gone on break about thirty minutes ago was making her return and she was heading straight towards your incoming bogey. This guy Ice sent didn’t seem to be the brightest or most trustworthy and your intuition proved correct when he forgot completely about you and went straight to the poor waitress that just wanted to finish her shift. But sacrifices must be made for the greater good of your sanity. You made your escape while everyone was distracted. Which was just outside the bar because you did ride here with Ice. You didn’t mind sticking around though and enjoying the view outside with the beach right outside the door with a beautiful sunset coloring the scenery with different purples, pinks, and oranges.

Taking a seat on a salt crusted bench you enjoyed the sounds of waves crashing against the beach and a salty wind stirring your hair. The fresh air felt good on your flustered cheeks when the front door opened. You jumped afraid that you had been found when a different pilot you had never seen before stepped through the front door. You were afraid Ice sent him to find you but by the stumbling steps of this pilot and the buzzed look on his face he was just looking for a good place to cool off or puke his guts out. You turned away losing interest despite his handsome features. Yes your brother’s friends were all attractive in their own way this one was more your type. Close cropped dark sandy colored hair and a square jaw that could cut steel. He wore sunglasses so you couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but you know you shouldn’t find out since Iceman would have a fit if he even knew that you were entertaining the thought that a pilot was one of the most absolute handsome creatures you had ever seen. You chuckled again causing this new guy’s attention to cut over to where you were sitting.

“Heeeyyy,” he slurred while waving at you. Even that small motion was causing him to stumble into the doorway of the bar. “Nev’r seen you ‘ere before.” He continued like he hadn’t been close to kissing the splintery wood of the doorframe.

“Yeah this is my first time being here,” you admitted thinking the conversation would end there. You jumped a little when he took a seat right beside you on the bench leaning right up against you.

“Y’here for th’ booze t’,” he continued to converse with you, barely as he was on the verge of being hammered, and you couldn’t decide if he had a death wish or just didn’t know that Iceman is your brother.

“Well I’m here with my brother to hang out so not necessarily here for the booze,” you answered scooting away just a little as his arm kept bumping into yours from his close proximity.

“Ooo luk’y me,” he smirked settling an arm on the back of the bench this time.

Though he was being controlled mostly by the liquid courage you couldn’t bring yourself to fear this weird man for being so forward. It was a nice change of pace as everyone else had been avoiding you like the plague. Yes you had accepted to come for your brother’s sake and you were so very proud of him, but you wished that he would have a little more faith in you at picking out who you let woo you. Though you probably weren’t giving the best impression being basically cuddled by a drunken Navy man who had one too many drinks and was on the verge of making poor decisions. But he was fun to talk to and you found yourself losing track of time as you both conversed and he continued to flirt shamelessly at times, especially when you told him you were a nurse. It wasn’t until you heard a commotion inside did you realize you had completely forgotten about Iceman. The door to the bar burst open and a steaming mad Iceman.

“Slider,” the normally professional pilot roared making his way towards the man who had made himself comfortable right by your side.

“Ice whaat ‘s your dealll,” Slider whined when the angry pilot lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. “Is she y’ girl?”

You made a gagging noise while glaring at your brother basically lifting your new friend up with nothing but rage fueling him.

“As if,” you scoffed wrenching Slider (who you now knew his callsign) from your fuming brother. “He’s my brother and he’s also a killjoy.”

“Killjoy,” Ice turned on you this time.

“You heard me,” you stepped forward sick of listening to him while he sucked the fun out of everything. You could understand his no pilot rule but despite Slider being on the verge of plastered he hadn’t done anything untoward towards you. “You invite me here to celebrate you and I agreed cause I wanted to be a good sister and have fun with my brother. But then when I get here you basically tell everyone I’m off limits and I can’t even begin to make conversation with anyone you’re friends with because they think that as soon as they do they’re going to be torn limb from limb. So excuse me if I talk to the one guy who was too stupid to know who I was.”

“Heeyyy,” Slider pouted his flush cheeks becoming redder.

“No offense,” you smiled, happy to know that despite seeing Iceman’s rage he continued to stick around.

Iceman sighed rubbing at his neck sheepishly. He could admit when he was out of line. Despite wanting what was best for you at all times, he could be overprotective and a jerk at times.

“I’m sorry,” he finally apologized before looking back to his back seater. “But really? My RIO?”

As soon as he asked you, you got a sly grin pulling at your full lips.

“So he’s not a pilot?”

“Technically,” Iceman paused seeing right where you were going with this. “Don’t you dare.”

“He’s not a pilot Iceman,” you stuck your tongue out at your brother grabbing Slider’s hand. “C’mon big boy I want to take a walk on the beach!”

Iceman stepped forward to follow before earning a finger in his face.

“Without my brother,” you snapped before leading the still buzzed Slider away. You didn’t think when you came to Fightertown USA that you would be walking hand in hand across the darkened beach with a Navy man by your side. Iceman wouldn’t like it but sometimes when it came to your happiness you just had to ignore your older brother and do what you felt was in your best interest. He meant well and wanted what’s best for you always but somehow you had a feeling that this man, who stumbled drunk into your life, was possibly going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

#Ron Kerner X Reader #Ron Kerner / Reader #Slider X Reader #Slider / Reader #Kazansky Reader #Top Gun #Top Gun Imagine #Slider Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing #Request

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thelocalscepticx · 1 year

Text

the atlas paradox after thoughts

{SPOILERS}

- callum is so broken and i think hes such an interesting character to analyze. like the thoughts of 'if you could feel everyones emotions all the time, you would have to shut off your own or you would fucking shatter'

-tristan needs to get his shit together ngl

- NICO AND GIDEON FINALLY

- hc libby is a lesbian and belen deserved better

- libby is imo the most cruel and manipulative person of the six. it was true in the first book its true now

- tho we love a corruption arc

- ngl kinda hope ezra lives. like did he do shitty things? yes. should you kidnap ur ex to 'save the world'? probably not. did i disagree with some of his philosophy and reasonings.... next question. also the fact that i think that that interaction would be really fucking fascinating. (i just want to have him and atlas yell at eachother more so i can critique their relationship more)

- parisa is and always will be the queen of my heart. i want more callum and parisa moments im the next book because i think theyre so similar and seeing their banter cracks me up

- if libby and tristan end up together i will literally cry and throw up and shit my pants in rage they are AWFUL together.

- belen deserved better pt 2

- i think reina didnt do much this book (other than possibly draft a damn pantheon) so im hoping we see her research come to fruition in the next book

- suddenly i love dalton? like him and parisa burning it to the ground? mania? madness? im living for it

-callum x tristan supremacy. they remind me of those broken plates that you mend with gold and they become more beautiful

- does anyone remember all the shit callum said about the 6 in the first book?

"Libby Rhodes was an anxious impending meltdown whose decisions were based entirely on what she had allowed the world to shape her into. She was more powerful than all of them except for Nico, and of course she was. Because that was her curse: regardless of how much power she possessed, she lacked the dauntlessness to misuse it. She was too small-minded, too un-hungry for that. Too trapped within the cage of her own fears, her desires to be liked. The day she woke up and realized she could make her own world would be a dangerous one, but it was so unlikely it hardly kelt Callum up at night." (301)

"'Parisa is dangerous. She is angry," he clarified. "She is furious, vindictive, spiteful, naturally misanthropic. If she had Libby's power, or Nico's, she would have destroyed what remains of society by now...[she's here] to find a way to do it...Destroy things. The world possibly. Or control it. Whatever option suits her when she find it"'(305)

"Libby was a hero. Parisa was a villain. They would both be disappointed in the end." (300)

the way that all of this is being brought up again in TAP is beautiful

- callum is on his way to some sort of redemption/selfless arc i can TASTE IT and i crave it.

- everyone is hot. all the time. it hurts me

- blake is great at gaslighting me into making me think i understand any of the mathematic scientific bs they talk about at any given time

- theyre all so broken and in need of therapy

- i want callum to verbally destroy adrian caine

- i want all of them to succeed in their funky lil goals and become gods (except libby)

- speaking of libby- i think shed be a great villain

anyways. this series? owns my mf ass

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mitsvriii · 5 months

Note

hello dear !! congrats on 300, 3 million next 🤞

now then, can i please have a handpicked bouquet from a nursery with roses + cosmos for either zhongli, freminet or neuvillette (i don’t mind!!)

thank you and congratulations once more ٩(^‿^)۶♡

if i could slow time

bell's notes: you cannot just drop those prompts with those characters and leave sir /gn erm 😐 /nm. breaking my heart ☹️💔😔 /lyr, also yes 3 mil for bell 🙏, dumbi 2 tril next 🫵, ty tho 💓, the 'right person wrong time' is not even noticeable im, this is so short i cannot, first time writing anything besides gn!reader so if it's inaccurate im so so sorry, not proofread

contents: zhongli x male!reader, mention of death, angst and fluff, 567 word count

summary: in which your soulmate hardly interacts with you, and the reason why is just as bad as the hurt of his ignorance

It was stupid. A crush you happened to work for has gone wild in the sense that you may or may not have noticed that his wrist was tainted with your name. This not only caused you to have an entire mental breakdown that you couldn’t let show physically, but you rushed out of the funeral parlor, nearly knocking down Hu Tao with your theatrics.

Not to mention, you thought Zhongli was either clueless, didn’t care, or was just naturally calm about things this extreme because he saw the man who was now his soulmate every day without a stutter, shake, or a cracked-up voice; unlike yourself. Who were you to complain, though? If he acted normal and made no big deal of it, it was most likely not a big deal, right?

You only groaned out annoyingly as you pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the smell of coffins as you helped a woman pick out one for her new-found lover who turned dead because of some freak mitachurl accident. To which you could only nod solemnly in response too, praying to the archons above that something like that wouldn’t happen to you before Zhongli decided to pay attention to you being his soulmate.

It was only a matter of time before the woman left that you quite literally had enough, and rushed to knock on Zhongli’s office door, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for him to open it. He couldn’t have let you inside at a better time before you brushed past him, albeit harshly, before turning around to face him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Four words and you almost swore Zhongli blinked back a cry at them, a solemn smile playing at his lips before he sighed, motioning for you to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

The conversation was nothing like you had imagined in your head. No ‘I’m not into men’, no ‘There’s someone else, no ‘I’m not interested in having a soulmate, but an “I’m an archon” in its place. After letting the statement settle in, Zhongli continued with his explanation in a manner so calming that it almost made you regret your previous snap towards him just a few minutes ago.

He failed to converse with you about your souls being intertwined because he felt as if he would be burdening you with the truth that when you two got completely attached you would pass on before him, centuries before him if he was going to be honest; although it seems as if he was burdening you with the truth now.

You would grow and he would not, you would maybe adopt a child and they too would grow old and he would not, you would fear over time where you would leave him and he would not. He was afraid, afraid that you would worry so much about him and his sake of being with his soulmate, that you wouldn’t enjoy the time you spent together.

But in the end, you both agreed. The two of you would spend the rest of your time together in this world until it came for you to part, and no matter what had happened you wouldn’t feel the need to worry about what would happen to him after you eased to live.

“Because as long as I still can recall memories of you, I shall be fine.”

#🌹's #astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #zhongli angst #zhongli fluff

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saintbleeding · 4 months

Note

what was that about Danny and Gerry? 👁👁I'm Intrigued

HAHAHA WELL.

“So, um, well done. Um… I sort of didn’t have a neat button to—to put on this, because you’re the writer, and I didn’t get you to proofread, because I didn’t want to risk you trying to get me to take out the line about your wife being hot, so…” Danny lifts his glass and gestures around the room. Everyone follows. “So I thought I’d just say, er, I hope I’m…” His voice cracks. “I hope I’m just like you when I grow up, and… and I probably speak for everyone when I say—we love you, and, um. Congratulations.” It’s hardly ‘to your health’, but everyone gets the idea. Melanie frowns warningly as she taps her glass to Jon’s. Gerry takes the microphone back and moves towards the centre of the dance floor. “Wow, everyone! Beautiful man, and a beautiful mind. What’s not to love?” It occurs to Jon that there’s a distinct possibility that Gerry is not, as they say, doing a bit.

(this is from neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well) (the sixth chapter)

honestly the Bit started just as the fact that i thought it might be a little bit cute if gerry was being a menace and not respecting the context of a big wedding (at which he is MCing) (with gertrude) (they'd be good at it i think), and then i realised he could be. flirtatious with danny. who. i have to be honest if i do not have strong feelings in a certain direction, everyone is bi to me (bi person), so this applied to danny as well and i was like oh. cute if. he was into gerry's flirting.

and in that fic it's mostly just a background thing that occurs but honestly tbh to be honest it sort of stuck in my head afterwards bc like... yes u might think danny is Pure Jock but also he is clearly a nerd who develops weird intense niche interests,,, u might think gerry is Pure Goth but he went to italy on holiday,,,,,,,,,, he has diverse interests,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i'm not going to lie i also am soft for the idea that they've both canonically been underground or in a tunnel in a moderately-to-very-significant context and i was like wow. what if we did urbex in obscure underground locations... and we were both boys..................

i just think they could challenge one another and support one another in fun weird ways and also like. i think this is inherent to the fact that they are both tma characters. but i also think they would have fantastic banter together and it would be cute and this is sort of made up from whole cloth but i like the idea of theyre hanging out in a hammock on a beach and gerry is playing a guitar. SUE ME!!!

#is this utterly incoherent? yes.#tldr. i think. they would be cute. and would do adrenaline junkie shit together!!!#there's a line in a later chapter about they couldnt come to an event bc theyre skydiving somewhere #this is such nonsense but theyd be cute that's the sum of it i think #asks #fox-guardian #gerrydanny #MILK IM SORRY I SAW UR ASK WHEN I WAS ALREADY WRITING THIS ONE... ILY <3

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wing-ed-thing · 1 year

Text

Honey Cakes (Shino x Reader) Chapter IV

Synopsis: You were stupid. You made a stupid choice; it left you with the first real heartache of your life and you could safely admit that you deserved it. But then the war came. And as quickly as it came, it was over. So what about you and Shino? Sequel to Honey Stand.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Post War, Slow Burn, Slight Canon Divergence, Fake Tech Talk, Aged Up Characters, Minor Original Characters, Mild Sexual Harassment

Notes: This chapter was supposed to be a brief scene that was like a page long. Gif not mine.

The rest of the journey to the eastern base was made in silence, but you and Shino managed to reach your destination before noon the next day where you were welcomed to rest and restock your supplies. The base commander himself greeted you outside with a few of his leadership and a strong handshake. Shino disappeared inside as you greeted the various captains and squad leaders. He, no doubt, went to change out of his clothes that were still slightly damp from the night before. The commander, an older man with thick eyebrows, took your hand in both of his, eagerly ushering you inside to speak more about their new communication system. The eastern base, apparently, didn’t get many visitors.

It had to have been evening by the time you actually got to work on the installation job. You changed into a simple cotton shirt and pants a few hours ago, attire taken from a neat pile in one of the storage closets you were welcomed to raid. Surely, you wanted to get home quickly to prepare for Naruto and Hinata’s wedding (not to mention be rid of your grumbling companion), but part of you couldn’t help but enjoy the peace that came with a non-urgent mission. You could take some time with your work. Half of a rice cracker stuck out of your mouth as you took to tinkering. You were just relieved to have a bed indoors to sleep in for the night.

A tall figure came to lean in the door frame. So focused on your handiwork, you hardly noticed your audience. The sides of your work goggles blocked out your peripheral vision anyway. But after a few moments, he tapped lightly on the frame. You looked up from your work instinctually.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Squad Leader Shou cleared his throat as he tugged at the collar of his vest. His arms coiled across his chest. “I was curious. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Shou uncrossed his ankles to stand tall and broad at the room's entrance. He moved forward into the room.

Being the type to take pride in his uniform, shinobi attire complimented Shou nicely. Even with his informal stance, the squad leader gave off an air of officiality. Having worked predominantly with an for your friends— even the hokage insisted you use his first name— you couldn’t have cared less for formalities.

“No, I, uh…” you stammered, “You just surprised me, that’s all.” The rice cracker fell from your lips. You made an effort to grab it, but once it hit the ground, it quickly spiraled somewhere across the room. You made direct eye contact with Shou. You offered him sheepish laughter as you set down your tools to search for your runaway snack. You leaned down in front of him to go crawling under tables and equipment, but he placed a light touch on your shoulder.

“Leave it,” Shou said. He stepped forward with hands shoved in his pockets as you scrambled to stand and back up at his imposing presence. He grinned a boyish smile and shrugged. “The cadets on chore duty will get it tomorrow morning. I’m more interested in this new toy you’re giving us.” He walked around you towards your project, brushing your forearm as he did.

“Oh, um…” The squad leader’s expectant, yet patient expression made you realize that most you said to him up until that point were hums. “I mean, it’s not too much different than your field coms, just with a few more bells and whistles.” You maneuvered to stand next to him, gesturing to the progress you had already made. Wires ran from a nest of advanced circuitry in the wall into a large tablet on the counter. Another wire connected the tablet to your personal system. When you were done, you would be installing the tablet directly into the command center.

Shou stood to your right, nodding along as you explained. He leaned, hovering over you as you held up the detached system. Shou hummed, resting one palm on the counter in front of him while appearing uncertain as to where to place the other.

“It’s a brilliant innovation,” Shou said, finally settling on a light touch to your left shoulder.

“Thank you. I hope that it can do you all some good out here.” Your tongue pushed against the insides of your teeth as you worked at the last few screws to finally complete your first installation. You shrugged him off unconsciously as you focused on finishing the job. Shou hummed once more, letting an acute pause pass the two of you by.

“So, I was thinking…” Shou shifted again in your peripheral, rejected hand coming to rest along the small of your back, just above your scroll holder. “I’ll be headed back into the village soon for leave. I was hoping we could see each other again.”

“Oh, for sure,” you answered absentmindedly. Your hand shot out to stabilize a small piece of falling equipment which you quickly screwed into place. The motion shrugged him off once more. “I know a bunch of Jōnin and Chūnin who do a happy hour sort of thing on Fridays.” You turned to start organizing your equipment. Shou maneuvered around the table you had set your things on, following your line of sight.

“Well, uh, I was hoping the two of us could get together.” Your eyes shot up, finally breaking out of your tunnel vision. Shou leaned forward on the table. “You know, like dinner or something.” Your racing thoughts stopped your hands as they hovered over your toolbox.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, “I, uh, don’t date coworkers.” You shook your head, quickly snapping the lid of your box shut and sealing it away back into your storage scroll. Thoughts of Shino and the rest of your group of friends flashed quickly in your mind. The paper curled itself up with a snap. You pushed it back into the scroll holder strapped to the small of your back and turned to leave. Shou rounded the table to slide out in front of you.

“I mean we’re technically not coworkers at all. I mean, this brilliant engineer comes from central… can you blame me for shooting my shot?” He offered you a wide-eyed pout. “Let me take you out to dinner.” You let out a deep sigh.

“Squad Leader…”

“Captain.” Shou matched your tone of playful warning with raised brows and a cheeky smirk. Your next sigh came out as a breathy laugh.

“I’m flattered, but I have to decline.” Looking at him made the silence of the room feel stifling. “I’m not really ready for any of that right now. I feel like things have been all over the place since the war—” You made an attempt to move past him, but Shou blocked your path.

“The war was years ago. C’mon, I know a great place.”

You took in a breath, ready to retort but you were beaten to the punch.

“Learn to take no for an answer, Squad Leader.”

Shino stood just inside the door. Even indoors, his shades were still dark and made his expression unintelligible. He clutched a parcel of bundled fabric in one hand. You didn’t notice the fist his other hand had balled into. Shou frowned.

“Can I help you with something, Aburame?” He squared his shoulders and straightened his back, his demeanor shifting completely as Shou sized Shino up. Even with Shou’s chest puffed out, Shino still stood slightly taller.

“I came to talk to my partner.”

“Well, the Jōnin are talking right now.” Shou’s brows lifted in amusement. He tucked his hands in the top of his vest about where the straps met the body. “Give us a sec, won’t you, bud?”

“We should actually be talking over travel,” you said, making eye contact with Shino’s glasses before shifting your attention back to Shou. The squad leader clenched his jaw ever so slightly. “Have a good night.” Shou let out a light chuckle soaked with discomfort and frustration. He tried his best not to let it show.

“Yeah, of course…” he conceeded. Shou leaned towards you and spoke in a low tone. His back faced Shino completely. “I’m a man of patience. How about I find you when I’m back in the village and we can take it from—”

“I believe it’s time you’ve left, Squad Leader.” Shino’s voice cut through the room faster and sharper than a shurriken. Shou turned to eye your partner from over his shoulder. Shino pivoted, shifting the slightest bit out of the way of the doorframe. “Your advances don’t appear to be welcome.”

Shou took a step towards Shino. You walked quietly around the table as the two men grew closer to each other, ready to intervene should the situation escalate.

“I don’t know how it works over at central, but you really shouldn’t make a habit of ordering other people around in a base that’s not yours and interrupting conversations that don’t concern you.” He took another step forward. “There’s an order to things around here. You should know that, Aburame.”

“And you should know that sexual harassment is poor conduct, Squad Leader.”

Shino drawled out Shou’s title which about made the eastern base shinobi see red. The distance was swiftly closing between them as Shino took a step forward. At that point, you swiftly inserted yourself in between them with one palm at the front of Shino’s vest and the other on Shou’s. You gave both of them a slight push, but neither of them moved.

“Enough, the two of you!” you scolded, a vein in your forehead twitching as you gave the two shinobi another push. Shou ignored you and as he took another step forward, you faced him completely with Shino directly behind you. One hand still rested on the front of Shou’s vest while the other hovered cautiously in front of you as if you were about to tame a wild animal. You felt Shino move behind you and your hovering hand shot back to swat randomly at your mission partner before returning to your front. Shou stared past your head.

“You’re accusing me of shit that could get me suspended because you want to feel like a white knight, eh, Aburame? You’re not satisfied with your cushy job at central that you feel like you gotta show up guys who actually earn their keep in the ranks?” Shino frowned, as stoic as he usually was, but you could hear the hive. You could hear the sound of beetles hitting the inside of Shino’s ribcage, throwing themselves around his body with reckless abandon. You looked into his dark glasses, mentally pleading for him to drop his grievance with Shou. Whether he understood or not, Shino took a step back, but his retreat only seemed to enrage Shou more.

“Don’t back down now, man. Let’s take this outside. I’m not about to be disrespected—”

Shou grabbed your wrist and forcibly threw you to the side, his piercing glare trained only on Shino. Your side slammed into the table your tools had just been on, and the moment you picked yourself back up, Shino already had Shou by the collar of his vest. The squad leader’s back hit an adjacent wall with a blunt bang before his boots left the floor. He beat at Shino’s arm with a snarl.

Fuck.

The base commander wasn’t going to like this.

“Shino!” you barked, “Stand down.” Your eyes darted wildly around the room.

Shit.

Shino seethed quietly to Shou, brushing your command aside as he continued to grumble. He still held the parcel wrapped in fabric in his other hand. You heard booted feet running down the hall, no doubt because of the commotion.

“Aburame!” you snapped, marching over to tug at the back of his jacket. You studied the back of his hulking figure which paused as Shou continued to squirm in his chokehold. He was listening. “Don’t you forget that Kakashi assigned me as the primary for this mission. Don’t make me ask again.”

It was only when you pulled rank that Shou collapsed on the floor at Shino’s feet. You stumbled a few steps back as Shou made for the exit. You watched him leave in disbelief. You turned swiftly back towards Shino.

“What’s gotten into you—”

“They were starting to take dinner away. I didn’t see you there.” Shino threw the fabric parcel into your arms, the corner of it knocking into your chin. He appeared otherwise unbothered as he tugged over a chair. Even with the seat lowered, he still matched the approximate height of your standing form. “We should discuss how we plan on getting to the next base considering the obstruction.” With a flick of his wrist, the knot at the top of the fabric unfurled. A simple container of greens with modest toppings sat among two napkins filled with snacks. Shino studied you with his head in his palm as you stared down at what he brought you. You shook your head, little hairs flying wildly in your face as you tried to grasp what just happened. “I brought your favorite. I thought you would be pleased.”

You looked between him and the door, stammering slightly. You lips parted, a strangled sound escaping your throat that didn’t resemble words. It all happened so fast, you stood and tried to replay it all in your head.

“I have to talk to the base commander.” You shook your head again, trying to wrap your head around what to do. You sifted through consequences and timing. You were the lead on this mission and at the end of the day Shino’s actions were your responsibility. It didn’t matter whether or not you wanted to punch that jerk in the face yourself, the state of things made everything fragile. Shino continued to stare.

“You can talk to the base commander.” He shrugged, seeming otherwise uninterested. “You might have better luck in the morning. It’s not like they’re going to kick us out.” You turned, scanning the room until you found a clock.

“Oh… I didn’t realize how late it was…” you muttered as your shoulders deflated. The need to act fluttered around your chest and settled as a pit in your stomach. No wonder you felt so tense and stiff. You had been working on the system installation for a few hours.

Shino pushed the food container with the tips of his fingers, moving them towards you on the table. With no other choice, you pulled up a seat.

A silence overtook the room and in that silence, you pulled the dinner towards you. Thoughts raced through your mind, formulating the outline of a script for when you talk to the base commander in one corner and the start of the incident report in a different section. And in the middle played memories of home-cooked, sunset dinners at the Aburame honey stand.

You ate what Shino brought you as quietly as you could.

“We should leave early—”

—“I’m surprised you remembered.”

You both spoke simultaneously, leaving tension and clumsy awkwardness in your wake. Your lips pursed. You knew that Shino needed his glasses as an aid for him to keep focus, but with how unreadable they make his expressions, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would find him more expressive if he covered the lower half of his face instead of the top. The both of you sat in discomfort, waiting for the other to talk.

“Remembered what?”

“Well, I should still probably talk—”

You pursed your lips again. To your surprise, Shino offered a patient gesture for you to continue speaking. You held a couple of fingers to your lips as you finished chewing. You swallowed before you spoke, poking at the field communication device on your forearm.

“I should still talk to the base commander. The last thing I’d want is for us to have problems because we picked a fight with a Squad Leader and ran off into the night. I’ll write up a report tonight—”

“What happened earlier was justified. I don’t see how it could have been handled any differently.”

The sudden sternness in Shino’s voice pulled you from your rambling thoughts. He stared into your eyes and you couldn’t help but wonder once more about what expression he held behind his dark shades. You averted your gaze back to your food in an attempt to not read too much into Shino’s words. You dragged your chopsticks across a piece of lettuce. You gathered it into a bite-sized bundle but left it in the container.

“I had it handled.” Your voice came out smaller than you intended. The words sounded small, pushed too forcefully as they spilled from your lips. “I had a plan and I was going to solve it my way.”

“I know you did,” Shino mused. He wondered whether he should have gotten involved. It was too late now. “It was a conduct issue.” You about snorted and couldn’t help how your eyebrows knitted together.

“A conduct issue?” you repeated, amusement in the undercurrent of your tone.

“Mhm.” A small smile began to overtake your pursed lips and Shino watched as it did. You ate another piece of your salad with a slight shake of your head. The playful expression melted quickly. The corners of Shino’s mouth tugged downwards into a concerned frown. “What?”

Another pause. You laid your chopsticks down on the edges of the food container.

“Why do you do that—” You stared down at your half-eaten meal, features of your face scrunched up in thought. You regretted placing your utensils down and took to playing with the large top ends. —“Act like you don’t care about things when you do?”

“Things?”

You met his gaze. Shino leaned forward to rest his crossed arms on the table.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly. “Things… It’s not fair.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

Notes: Dropping these chapters like this makes me feel like I’ve rolled up to your home, am walking around throwing money in the air, and disappearing never to be seen again. Whelp, see you all after the next round of writer’s block.

#Shino x reader #naruto x reader #Shino aburame x reader #Shino aburame #naruto fanfiction #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #shino #aburame #naruto #honey cakes #x you #reader insert #naruto reader insert

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