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incognit0slut · 1 year

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Right Kind of Wrong (2)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer’s late-night endeavor is teased as a new case arises. wc: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ content, graphic detail of murder

A/n: thank you for all the love it’s very much appreciated! also i want to remind you that this will be a long series, but if you like a murder mystery with a hint of humor and smut, then by all means please continue :3

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

BEING CALLED IN AT NIGHT WAS SOMETHING SPENCER WAS USED TO. It was part of his job. The moment he accepted to be part of the Behavior Analysis Unit at Quantico, he knew the downside of it all. The long hours and pressure to perform the job while working with some of the most dangerous and violent individuals could potentially affect him physically and mentally.

But above all that, he always looked at the bigger picture. His job was to bring justice by catching all the perpetrators of each crime he was assigned with. It was a very dangerous job yet he couldn't imagine his life without lending in his time and intelligence to catch the 'bad guys on the loose'—as Garcia would often put it. So having his dearest friend call him at two o'clock in the morning was something that occasionally occurred. He really didn't mind it.

Until tonight.

For the first time in his eleven years working as an FBI agent, Spencer wished the bad news could wait at least in the morning. By then he would have more time to spend his night with the most irresistible woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

He shook his head. Guilt was a complex, powerful emotion and it was what he was feeling right now. A dead body was found and all he could think about was the beautiful stranger who was now more than an enigma than she ever was. Even when he had seen her in her barest form, tucked underneath his warm body. Even when his hands had roamed around every corner of her luscious curves, her desperate moan sounded like the most beautiful melody to his ears.

God, he needed a drink. No, not alcohol, he wasn't one to drink liquor anyway. Well, excluding a few hours ago when sitting all alone waiting for his friends without holding any type of alcoholic drink seemed rather uncommon. He was already feeling out of place the moment he entered the dimly lit bar, his eyes scanning for any familiar faces but being greeted by none.

So ordering a bottle of cold beer seemed ideal as he sat by the bar on his own. He didn't even drink the whole liquid, merely gulping a sip or two before it became a mere prop for blending in with the crowd.

If it wasn’t for Garcia coaxing him into joining her and the girls for a night out in the city, Spencer would still be at the office, his nose buried in the paperwork he needed to finish. But Penelope Garcia was a force not to be underrated. She had a way with words and persuasion, thus Spencer found himself agreeing to spend the night with his peers.

Besides, he enjoyed being around them. He considered the people he worked with as more than mere colleagues. He had spent so much time with them that the bond developed was incredibly special and strong. He considered them as a sort of dysfunctional family in some ways, but it was a family nonetheless. It was a very unique relationship and a special one that he took pride in working with and he was very grateful to be a part of it.

But it didn't stop him from being mad at the fact they had bailed on him at the very last minute.

Fine—a little bit mad. They all seemed to have good excuses for their sudden absence. JJ had to drive back home for her sick son, Prentiss was called back into the office by their unit chief Hotch, and Garcia... well, her answer was pretty vague. All she had said over her frantic call was, "I'm so sorry, boy genius, I need to take a rain check tonight. I'll call you later!"

Then Spencer found himself in a situation he would never imagine being, sitting by himself at the most sociable place he could ever think of.

He needed to leave. The music bouncing over the stereo suddenly sounded too loud, and even though there weren't too many people inside the place, it was still enough to make his demeanor shut down from the several conversations floating in the air.

And don't get him started on the number of pathogens clinging to every nook and corner of this place. He shuddered at that thought as he once again wiped down the bar surface with another pile of napkins he requested from the bartender, who by the looks of it, was starting to eye him with annoyance.

A man suddenly pushed him from behind and went on his way without apologizing. Spencer made a mental note to never agree to another social request without a companion at his arrival. He was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

His fingers hastily tightened around the strap of his bag, ready to flee the scene when a sudden faint scent of chocolate fluttered through his nose.

Delicious, mouth-watering chocolate.

Spencer had always been conscious of his surroundings. The nerves in his brain would work their way into absorbing all kinds of entities that triggered his senses, and chocolate was a scent he could easily make out.

Chocolate smelled like... well, heaven. It had a sweet, decadent scent that was just divine, triggering all sorts of happy, positive emotions and reactions. He could point out a lot of facts about why roasted cocoa could trigger serotonin throughout one's body, but his brain was too busy trying to pinpoint the source of its scent.

Then he felt movement to his right and the scent lingered around the air like a delicious blanket coating his senses. And there she was—looking divinely gorgeous like heaven on a pair of legs.

Spencer knew there was no singular answer to describe one's beauty, as beauty was subjective and could be defined differently by each person. He also considered himself being very old-school as he perceived beauty through kindness and intelligence. Yet he was still a hot-blooded man and he wasn't going to lie; the woman sitting in front of him was physically attractive and pleasing to the eye.

The way her eyes lit up as they settled on him tightened the knot in his stomach. He might not have much experience with the opposite sex, but he knew when one was interested in his presence, and with that thought in mind he felt rather pleased and flattered.

His eyes roamed around her features; her glazed eyes, her high cheekbones, the delicate shape of her nose, and her plump lips that seemed to look so soft. It wasn't until later in the night he came to the conclusion that they were much softer than they looked. Because tasting her mouth was completely different than simply staring at it.

Spencer didn't know how touch-starved he was until he pressed his lips onto hers, lips that were incredibly soft yet turned every inch of his body very hard. He felt immensely dizzy with need as he nipped her bottom lip, feeling intoxicated each time she squirmed in his arms, her soft body pressing against him, making it more and more difficult to clear his mind with her hands between his legs—

"Late night?"

Spencer looked up. He could feel the blush creeping along his cheeks as if being caught having these inappropriate thoughts. Derek Morgan stood by his side, eying the amount of sugar stashed into the cup of coffee in his hand. To be fair, he really did need something that could wake him up and break him from going down memory lane again.

"Very," he murmured. He proceeded by mixing his caffeine with a spoon, unaware of how Morgan was watching him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"My man," Morgan teased. Spencer sensed the taunting edge in his voice and turned around.

On a normal occasion, he would deny the suggestive tone Morgan would often taunt. His friend had a way of teasing him in what seemed to be simply goodhearted banter. But Spencer wasn't exactly a good liar. He was already quite flustered by the topic of conversation and the moment he opened his mouth, he knew he would only make things worse.

So instead he kept his silence and sipped on his drink, ignoring the grin plastered on Morgan's face as if an epiphany had aroused him in his wake.

"My man," Morgan repeated, wrapping a playful arm around his shoulders. "What has kept the young Dr. Reid awake on this lovely night?"

He shoved his arm away. "I wouldn't consider myself youthful anymore."

Morgan snickered. "You're the baby of the team." Then to annoy him even further, he added, “Kid.”

"I'm thirty-six." Spencer frowned as they climbed their way toward the conference room. "You know, men in their mid-thirties have prefrontal cortexes that are fully developed and they have a lot more experience throughout their lives. Their body is also fully functional so they—I am most definitely a mature, fully grown adult."

"Do you know what else they say about men being in their thirties?" Morgan threw him another one of his grins. "A very high sex drive."

"Actually, studies show that 30% of healthy people aged between 65-74 still enjoy sexual intercourse weekly."

Morgan groaned. "Don't give me that mental image."

"Reid!"

The two men turned to see Garcia scurrying towards them. How she still conjured so much energy at this time of hour would always be a mystery to him. The determined look on her face reminded him of their last conversation on the phone and Spencer quickly turned away, walking into the empty conference room before sitting himself by the round table.

Noticing the weird interaction between his two friends, Morgan threw Garcia a questioning look. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's going on." She hurriedly entered the room and grabbed the remote control sitting in the middle of the table. She poked Spencer with the device. "This boy right here decided he's too cool to hang out with us."

"Garcia, you're the one who bailed on me."

"So not the point," she deadpanned. "My question is, when are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend? I didn't even know you were dating."

Morgan's brows shot up as he took a seat beside him. "Girlfriend?"

Spencer looked down as she went on, "Imagine my surprise when he answered my call and there was a woman's voice in the background. At this hour."

Morgan laughed at her emphasis on the time because it was common knowledge only certain things happen this late. Especially with an alleged female company. "Really?"

Disliking the way he was thrown into the spotlight, Spencer leaned in his chair and crossed his arms defensively. "She's not my girlfriend."

That statement only raised their interest even further.

"Oh?" That was Morgan.

"You naughty minx." That was Garcia. "Since when have you been seeing her?"

Spencer had two options. He could ignore their curiosity and remain silent, or he could flat-out give them a lie. He looked between the interest on their face and decided he couldn't escape their probing curiosity, so he answered in a very low voice, "Tonight."

"Tonight?" Garcia asked in disbelief. "Wait—didn't you go to the bar earlier?"

"Yes, before everyone ditched me."

"Oh my god," Garcia squealed in surprise. "Dr. Reid, did you spend the night with a stranger?"

There was a long pause as the grip around his mug tightened. Morgan let out a choked laugh. "My man."

"Stop saying that," Spencer muttered, his lips inches away from his steaming cup.

"I can't believe this," Garcia gasped between her giggles, clearly fascinated by this new information. "Our resident boy genius is actually a Casanova in disguise."

"Who's a Casanova?"

The three of them turned to see Emily Prentiss walking into the room followed by a very curious David Rossi. His other colleagues clearly didn't hear the beginning half of their conversation and Spencer wanted to make sure it remained that way.

He casually took a sip of his drink and replied, "Giacomo Casanova. A famous Italian adventurer and author in the 18th century. He became famous for his often complicated and elaborate affairs with women."

Prentiss scoffed as she and Rossi sat down by the table. "I know who Casanova is, I'm asking who is a Casanova."

An awkward silence settled in the room. Spencer shifted in his seat. He really, really didn't want to deal with this. Spending a very intimate night with a stranger wasn't something he would like to discuss in front of his peers. Ever.

He could feel the heavy weight of everyone's eyes and the blush slowly creeping along his cheeks when Derek stepped in, giving the room one of his charming smiles. "We were talking about me."

"You?" Prentiss quirked one of her eyebrows in mocked surprise. "I don't think your girlfriend would be happy with that."

Morgan easily laughed. "We were discussing my old Casanova days."

"Yeah," Garcia interjected. "We were talking about how bad his choices of female friends were."

"Hey!"

"Until now." She gave him a toothy grin. "We love Savannah."

Morgan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He caught Spencer staring at him with a grateful smile and returned the gesture with an understanding nod. Spencer relaxed as the conversation rolled by and the topic of his secret escapade was long forgotten.

For now.

JJ, another member of the team, entered the room a few minutes later with a huge smile. Then the moment their unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, followed behind, everyone knew it was back to business.

Spencer placed his mug down on the table and focused his attention on the case at hand.

"Alright, so." Garcia pointed the remote towards the black screen and a moment later, gruesome pictures of a murder scene were presented in different angles. The picture of the male body covered in blood greeted them before a passport shot of a middle-aged man smiling happily at the camera was shown. "Fifty-six-year-old Kevin Marshall, a corporate lawyer, was found dead at his home by his secretary."

"At home?" Derek wondered. "Were there no security?"

"There was a sudden blackout going on in the neighborhood for about seven minutes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at that time of hour. His wife and kids were visiting her parents and Mr. Marshall was at home finishing some work. It wasn't later on when he didn't answer his calls that his secretary found him lying in his office with several stab wounds."

"Time of death?" JJ questioned.

"A quarter past midnight." Garcia clicked on her device before another detailed picture of the scene was zoomed in on the screen. "And this was found—no, carved on his back."

The picture had a clear shot of the wound on the victim's back, a sloppy carved-out handwriting slashed across his skin. Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Exodus 20:13," he read, his brain already discerning the meaning of the words. "Thou shalt not kill."

"Quite ironic, don't you think? Given the way the Unsub just brutally acted out his assault," Prentiss wondered out loud.

"The verse might actually tie with the murder into this god-given right for someone to bear arms. The Unsub probably feels justified in murdering the victim because he feels that this man is a sinner, thus he must kill him in the name of the Almighty."

"So, what? Are we looking for a religious vigilante?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." Hotch looked over his team and assigned everyone their work. "Since the crime scene is a mere hour away, Morgan can investigate the crime scene with JJ. Reid, go with Rossi to check the autopsy report. Prentiss and I will be here for his family as they're flying straight from Michigan."

"What can I do to help, sir?"

Hotch gave Garcia a pointed look. "Find everything you can on Kevin Marshall. Bank accounts, purchase records, extended family, and also the people he worked with. Report to me when you find something suspicious. Anything."

"Right." She nodded. "Anything."

"And find any possible matches from old cases that have anything to do with carving on body parts. Solved or unsolved."

"Carving on body parts. Got it."

Everyone started scattering around the room, ready to start the investigation. And although his mind somehow drifted back to soft lips and the scent of sweet chocolate, Spencer pushed them away, gulping the last drip of the sweetest coffee he had ever made as if he was draining down all these inappropriate images running through his mind.

It was not the time.

>> NEXT PART

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aseaofyoongi · 1 year

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behind pixels 1 | jjk

jjk x reader (f)

genre: sex worker au (jk)

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: with rising stress, being caught touching yourself and no satisfaction for your own imagination you decide to take your friends advice of using a certain little app for assistance.

warnings: not another college smut au . . you guessed it lol; foul language; sensual/dirty talk; masturbation; computer sex; strangers to sex worker jk helping you out for the night lol (pls stay safe of the world wide web yall); mentions of sexual intercourse - but ofc there is none; cum eating. . she licks her fingers after.. yeah; open ending and no preparation for a pt. 2 so dont hate me.

next part: behins pixels the sequel

word count: 3,3 thousand words

posted: april 8th, 2023

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

Is this your first time

here?

Sorta.

You can’t sorta be

here for the first time.

It's a yes or no question.

I thought this site was

no questions asked. No

strings attached?

You against conversation

or something? Desperate

to get right to it?

Not desperate. . but that is

what we’re here for.

Right bunny boy?

Right.

There was a second of silence in between messages. For a brief moment you interpreted his quietness as a goodbye but he was still online. . Perhaps, he thought you to be too straightforward and that turned him off entirely and he moved on to the next user.

Still, there was a faint hope within you that he would reply so you sat in the dead stillness of your room, lights turned off to avoid recognition, door locked with only your undergarments to hug your body.

Typically, this wouldn’t be the event to make-up your Friday night however stressed induced days. . and the simple fact that you were in a torment of arousal twenty-four seven with no further satisfaction stemming from the guidance your imagination had on your fingers.

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

You sat up on the bed in anticipation of his reply even though you'd never admit it to the stranger on the other side of the screen. He was about to help you get off, so you were definitely at the gates of desperation. It trickled all throughout your body as if a rain cloud sat right above you drenching you in its honeyed ardor.

Your skin turned to goosebumps as the chat bubble continued appearing and disappearing again and again.

Fine. But at least

tell me how you

found me.

I wasn’t specifically

searching for you.

Then who?

Anyone really.

Ouch. You know

I actually felt a bit

special for a second.

You still should. You’re

description helped me

choose you.

Be honest, was it

the tattoos?

If I say maybe would

you be mad at me?

Not at all.

Then, yes.

Plus your description

says you have long hair.

Who was the

runner-up?

Someone named Tae. But

I remembered a friend

visits him often.

So you found out

about us through

a friend?

Yes.

We can do either a

video call or messages.

Which do you prefer?

Video call.

If you’re up for it.

I’m OK with it

as long as you are.

I’ll call you in 5.

I’ll be here.

The rippling anticipation waved through you like electric currents rumbling your entire being right off its course. Though, BunnyBoy98 was a complete stranger you were minutes away from stripping yourself of every bit of shame and vulnerability right before him.

You couldn’t believe you actually went through with it.

And it all began about a week prior. When your friend had walked in on you in a . . less than ideal situation. You succumbed to the pleasure of your favorite toy, legs stretched wide and completely bare on your bottom half. Overcome in the feeling as you maintain focus on chasing your own orgasm. You remember hearing the hinges on the door creak but you weren’t expecting anyone so you remained painting a fervor image behind your eyelids. Envisioning slender fingers being pumped in and out of you repeatedly.

There were beads of sweat strolling down your body as you were in position; about to be catapulted into outer space. The atmosphere you set for yourself was serene and the only sounds that could be heard were your occasional whimpers and the music that played softly in the background. Everything drove you closer and closer to where you wanted to be.

Where you needed to be.

You were so close then a gasp inundated the air around you. A gasp that most certainly did not come from you.

“What the fuck?” You shot your eyes open and quickly saw your friend buried into a corner near the door. She faced the wall but you could only imagine the revolted look on her face, “can you lock the door next time?”

“Oh my,” you quickly pulled the covers over your sweaty body, “can you knock next time?”

“I did knock,” she yelled back, “but you were a little busy.”

“So you just barge in?”

“I thought you might have been dead in the toilet or something,” she shrugged and turned back around to find you sprawled in your bed, “oh, you’re done?”

“What do you think?”

“I mean don’t stop on my account. We all do it,” she sat across from your bed and began spinning around on your computer chair, “I personally like to meet Tae when I’m in the mood but you know this all works too.”

“Who’s Tae?” you questioned sitting up in the bed; wrapping your bed sheets around your figure tightly.

“He’s from this app where guys kinda help girls get off,” she said it so casually you almost didn’t fully decipher the words escaping her lips.

“There’s an app for that?”

“It’s the twenty-first century there’s literally an app for everything.”

You cleared your throat, “is it safe?”

“Are you interested?” she waggled her brows.

“No,” you scoffed, “did you need something?”

“I can’t come over just to spend time?” she shook her head, “I should’ve let you finish. Maybe you would have been in a better mood.”

“Fuck you,” you giggled.

“At least use this next time,” your phone dinged after she quickly sent you a text, “let me know how it goes.”

Her exit was barely audible. You were too preoccupied studying the link she sent for the app called ‘Eargasm An App for Women in Need.’

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

I’m ready.

Can I call you?

Yeah.

You can call.

The ringtone echoing amongst your walls was taunting, and your nerves nearly fooled you into letting it ring. And while it took a lot of physical and mental strength to actually pick your hand up and move it towards the mouse pad you were finally able to press the green button lighting up your screen.

BunnyBoy98 sat up against a wall; glowing under blue LED lights. His black hair was long as detailed in his description and it sat right above his shoulders. Though it was hard to tell under the stark ambiance his eyes mimicked the tint of chocolate and his piercing stare was aimed at you on the other side of the screen. . Well, it was actually aimed at your dark screen. Though, it was selfish of you, as you hid cowardly behind your turned off camera you wished he would remove the black mask hiding the bottom half of his face.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you murmured, perhaps a bit scared that someone might hear this interaction play out although no one would. You made sure your door was locked this time and you didn’t even have a roommate. “Should I continue calling you BunnyBoy or is there something else you prefer to be called?”

“You can call me JK,” his voice was sultry, soothing, grave. Somehow a mixture of all three in one; it vibrated in your inner ear like some sort of an invasively soft tune, one you know you’d be replaying many times after tonight.

“Sorry about the dark screen,” you attempted to swallow down any ounce of nervousness, “I guess you can say I’m a bit nervous.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” his reassurance quickly eased your frazzled nerves, “though I’ll admit you did sound a bit more assertive over messages.”

“I tend to come off over-confident through texts,” you snickered, “it’s a natural flaw.”

“Confidence is sexy so I would say it’s a blessing.”

The word sexy sounded so enticing coming from his lips even as they were hidden behind that damned black cloth. You roamed through countless fantasies of the man sitting right before you, about the way he possibly looked without being covered; how his touch might feel on your scorching skin and the tone of his whispers closer in the proximity of your ear.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he voice was playful, but it was so hard to read his expression behind his covered face, “have you begun having fun without me?”

“No,” you mumbled, “I haven’t.”

“Good,” he said, “why don’t you tell me what you like.”

“Like during. .” you drifted off.

He nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear, “What else are we here for darling?”

“Yes. Of course,” you huffed, slapping your palm on your forehead undoubtedly astounded by your own stupidity, “Uh, I like. .” You gave it some thought but kept rounding the same corners leading to you cluelessness, “I’m not sure I know what I like.”

“Forgive me for being blunt but have you touched yourself recently?”

“That’s the exact reason why I ended up here.”

“You’re addicted to masturbating?” He whispered as if he was keeping some big secret.

“No!” you answered back quickly, “Not at all. I’ve just been a bit stressed lately and well. . something else happened.”

“What happened?”

“My friend kinda walked in on me,” you whispered.

“It happens to the best of us sadly,” he chuckled, a sound so beautiful and gentle it matched the soft tune of songbirds in the morning, “how about you begin by telling me about the last time you were aroused. Just walk me through whatever got you in the mood that day.”

You closed your eyes leaning your head against the headboard. Your thoughts traveled back to a couple of days prior when your body sunk into the mattress under the hex of your fingertips. You were stripped down bare but you recalled the way every inch of your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“I had just gotten home after my classes,” a small white lie was the price to pay to save any once of dignity you had left in the eyes of the stranger before you — in reality, that very day and every other day you’d found yourself under the amorous touches of your sinful fantasies whenever you saw him, the boy employed at the campus student center.

You didn’t know his name and in reality he only lived in your mind in small flashes. The first polaroid was composed of his cheeky smile framed by indents of his round cheeks. While other snap shots focused on the way he always wore in a half up half down style or a bun; others were centered around the numerous tattoos inked into his right arm, especially the snake sitting right above his wrist and the patchwork tattoos on the dorsal side of his hand.

“Were you thinking about someone?”

“Yes.”

“What were they doing?”

There was a rush of heat traveling through you as you recalled the way you dreamt up his touch against your body, the way his fingers left behind trails of goosebumps on your skin.

“First he began touching me softly,” It was like your body was on auto drive and before you knew it you set the laptop beside you on the bed and began getting comfortable on the bed.

“Was he touching you anywhere specific?”

You hummed in response, “he drew all kinds of figures into my inner thigh, kept inching closer and closer and then he would pull away abruptly.”

“Did you enjoy him pulling away?”

“Yes, it made me want it more.”

“Ok, I’m gonna ask you to do a couple of things. If you don’t want to do something just tell me. I’m here for your pleasure.”

You nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you, “Yea, that’s fine.”

A strain of the jitters ate away at your nerves and you weren’t sure if you’d ever come down from that rollercoaster of anxiety. You were sitting at the peak in a single-person cart waiting to be plummeted down the valley of the tracks leading you to the finale; the culmination of an enticing ride.

“Are you naked?”

“Somewhat.”

“Take it all off.”

Even in the stillness of darkness removing your bra and panties made you feel entirely vulnerable. You were technically alone but JK was right there just a couple of pixels away.

“Close your eyes, doll. I want you to begin touching yourself just wherever it feels good,” he instructed and you weren’t sure if it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could’ve sworn his voice became more bass, “start high and slowly make your way down to your breasts. When you’re there let me know.”

His words were tainted with sin meanwhile he still sat back nonchalantly. You'd imagined he was satisfied in the way your soft whimpers overtook the air as you began pinching your perked nipples but you couldn’t tell for sure not while he still wore his mask.

“I’m assuming you’ve made it.” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re not very good at following instructions. Are you, doll?” he rolled up the sleeves of his crewneck, finally exposing the infamous tattoos he detailed in his description. They were like pieces of artwork adorning his entire arm, not a single spot was left visible—and as much as you tried to get a better look at them for some reason you found it impossible to focus on just one.

“Sorry,” you muttered once again, “I was caught up in the moment I guess.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he offered, “but I need you to be vocal since I can’t exactly see you.”

“I’ll be more vocal. I promise,” you said, still toying with your nipples in between your fingers, “right now my hands are still at my tits.”

“Are you bored of that yet, doll?” the onset of his tumultuous utter; it was thunderous, like music for the soul, “you wanna aim lower?”

“Yes.”

“With the tips of your fingers I want you to move down your cleavage,” he said, “and stop right at your pelvis.”

Quickly, it felt like the evening had rushed by and the sun had been relocated right beside your bed. Though you complied with his command any form of coherent words became jammed in your throat incapable of rolling off your tongue.

The way your fingers slid past your folds earned a string of whimpers from your lips earning a satisfied titter from JK on the other side of the screen.

“Nice and slow, doll,” JK said, “be gentle but I want you to apply a bit of pressure every time your fingers meet your clit.”

JK’s voice was no longer muffled from the laptop’s static microphone. Instead in this version of your altered reality he was laying right beside you on your bed, and his fingers substituted yours against your cunt. His touch contained something yours simply did not possess, composed of a sort of spell that left you babbling moans. And as his fingers traced whichever incoherence they wanted into your clit you felt closer to your pinnacle.

“Fuck,” he stuttered, “I love the way you say my name.”

The bubbling daringness dazed with pleasure drove you to chant his name over and over in between your pants and obscenities. “You have no idea the things I would do for you to fuck me right now,” It was your best attempt at trying to break past his professional shell — His head fell back against the wall as his adam’s apple bobbed up and up, his eyes were shut tightly and his hands fidgeted with something off frame.

“You have no idea how much I’d love to fuck you but this is a contactless doll,” his breathing became uneven, “I’m afraid we could never meet. You could never know who I am and I could never know who you are.”

“N-never say never,” the contract enforced by the site was clear and simple, both parties must grant their consent to the meeting online without disclosing their identities. For safety measures you understood the implications of the rules applied but what of it when you genuinely just wanted to meet the dulcet stranger and ride along him for the wildest time of your life.

“Just focus on the feeling,” his voice was rugged; raspy as a result of the groans he sang into the air, “Focus on that shiver taking your back hostage and that very knot tightening in your core. I want you to only let your thoughts be consumed by that very feeling.”

You sat up using your elbow for support, still thriving to maintain the mental image of having JK near in curated colors. Again, you were in the presence of the man dipping the mattress beside you as he laid down with eyes to scorching their umber tone surrounding you in warmth.

“Now, finger yourself.”

The squelching sound of your finger pushing past your entrance had JK sitting up straight like he was intrigued by your facile compliance but you thought it was obvious that by now there was very little you wouldn’t do as long as it came from him.

“I wish I could see you doll,” he confessed, “I bet you look heavenly with your fingers inside of you.”

“C-contactless r-remember,” The motion living up to your satisfaction was hastened —you became divulged in the feeling of your walls on your fingers. You felt soft, warm, tight. All of the sensations combined to create a feeling so addicting your fingers developed a mind of their own as you drove themselves in and out of you with ease.

“Right. .”

“Fuck, this f-feels,” you swallowed to ease the desert developing in the back of your throat, “it feels s-so fucking good.”

“If I were there,” he mumbled, barely audible but your ears still perked up at the lulls of his voice, “First, I would serenade every inch of your skin. Your body would be the portrait I’d paint with my lips.”

“Mhm. .”

“I would cherish your body so well. Eat you out until your legs shake and fuck you until you’re a candid mess.”

“O-oh, fuck! JK don’t stop.”

“I would fuck you so well, doll.”

“I-I’m so close,” your arm became numbed yet, you kept fucking yourself with your fingers still succumbing to the fantasy of having JK in replacement of your own hand.

The temperature in your room draws beads of sweat on your body and the more you strive to reach your high the more scorching the temperature becomes. The creaking of your bed accentuated the speed of your movements, it was like a song featuring your constant moans.

“Until you’re babbling nonsense, and your headboard is marking up the wall and the neighbors finally know my name.”

JK’s words were laced with a delectable nectar, so sweet, a once off taste wasn’t enough and as you pleaded for more and he complied, continuing to fill your ears with sinful promises you crashed hard. Coming in spurts of white coating your fingers.

“I have a surprise for you,” you panted in between almost every word, “you ready?”

He nodded.

Call it post orgasm tipsiness but after sitting up a bit and adjusting the laptop to leave anything that wasn’t your mouth out of frame you turned on your camera for the very first time that night, pushing your glistening fingers which once invaded your walls past your swollen lips.

His hands rose to his hair and he slithered his fingers through it lightly before gripping his roots into his fists looking a fair amount aroused and frustrated. The tattoos you desperately wanted a peek of were finally on full display. After turning off your camera once again and JK began uttering praises your way, you began scanning the ink on his arm from his forearm up slowly. The artwork adorned his skin beautifully.

As you neared his wrists you noticed a very similar serpentine snake—one who you have stared at too often.

“Typically, things here are a bit different,” you finally registered his voice, “you would turn on your camera and I would provide more detailed assistance but I hope you still had a good time. I did.”

“Yeah,” your mind was in outer space, “I had a really good time.”

“Don’t shy away from visiting me again, OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, “bye, JK.”

Once the camera was off and you shut your laptop tightly, coming to the realization.

JK was him.

The boy, your boy from the student center.

an: i was bored and im so sorry lol

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated 🫶🏽

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #very brief mention of tae #jungkook drabble

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sykokilljoyy · 1 year

Text

secrets - wroetoshaw imagine

request: none! however it does kind of link to a few :p words: 1538 warnings: little bit embarrassing i can't lie. implied smut, allusions to sex, but generally just a lot of second hand embarrassment.

tl;dr: harry and y/n have been seeing each other for a while, but the secret's out when harry accidentally exposes some very intimate truths

“Come on, Harry,” Simon laughed, glee written all over his features. He holds onto JJ for support, who chuckled beside him.

“Boys, this is awful!” Harry‘s cheeks were burning, laughing along in front of the camera, which was setup haphazardly on the astro-turf football pitch.

“You said you would do it!” Ethan yelled playfully, holding his friend to his word, “At least give us odds.”

“Fine. Odds of 1-10,” Harry sighed.

It was just a stupid forfeit. He’d accidentally hit the goalpost and due to the rules of the Sidemen Sunday, he would have to do the next 3 penalties with his shirt off. It was the middle of January, so the bite of cold was nipping at his neck already, intruding through his layers of clothing.

“Bet,” Ethan giggled from behind the camera.

“Alright, boys,” Simon called, “3…2…1…”

“Six.”

“Fuck!” Harry cursed, a pit of nervousness pooling in his stomach.

The boisterous whoops and laughs from his friends helped to spur him on a little, but he had never been very confident in front of the camera, let alone topless in the middle of winter, outside the safety confines of his flat. A little part of him was beyond thankful that you were here, tucked behind the camera to help with filming. None of the boys knew, but Harry and yourself had been seeing each other in secret.

It started with just hanging out after filming every so often, grabbing lunch or rides home, just enjoying getting to know each other as a little more than acquaintances. This, however, turned quickly into a couple dates, which fell into long nights and messy mornings, legs tangled in his bed and hands reaching to wherever they could. Not that either of you were ashamed of the other, but there was a certain thrill of keeping it all under the covers that neither were fast to get rid of.

“Come on, Bog,” Ethan hollered. This triggered a wave of ceremonious chants, something along the lines of ‘get your tits out’ from his friends.

Sighing in defeat, Harry shook his jacket off hastily, presuming that if he just gets it over and done with, it’ll be less mortifying. Cheers continued until he was down to his last layer, only himself noting the memory of you wearing this exact t-shirt in his flat the night before, he tried not to think of the fact it still smelt like you.

As his lifted the shirt above his head, the blush dusted upon his freckled shoulders very visible, silence fell on the group. Now, it really wasn’t often that this hyper group of men were dead silent, but after seeing the litter of hickeys cascading down Harry’s chest, sensual scratches marking the skin of his back – a pin could drop and it would sound like something nuclear.

Behind the camera, you blushed deeply, pulling the hem of your hoodie to your nose to hide it. Your eyes followed the lines of the scratches on his back, the memories of the night before still more than fresh in your mind. Averting your gaze to the floor, you could feel your cheeks on fire. Luckily, your friends were all too distracted to notice.

“What?” Harry was immediately self-conscious at the unexpected reaction, pulling his shirt to his chest to cover himself. It was only when he caught a glimpse of something crimson, that it clicked.

“Oh fuck!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, a cackle that broke the shocked tension, the dam of silence bursting open as all of his friends jump to embarrass him.

It was a perfect overreaction, realistically it was only a couple hickeys and such, but as Harry had been historically private about his love life to his friends, this was an ideal opportunity to grill the youngest Sideman.

“Are you dating a vampire or something?” Josh joked first, earning a robust reaction from the group. Followed by waves of playful digs at the already embarrassed blonde boy, who was sheepishly pulling his shirt back over his chest.

“Who knew Harry was getting laid so much?” JJ was flabbergasted, playing up to the camera for a reaction.

“Seems like a very satisfied customer,” Simon chuckled, ruffling Harry’s hair – much to his discomfort, he pouted like a kid.

“Ask her yourself, isn’t that right, Y/N?” Josh chuckled.

He had only meant it as a joke. He had no idea of your relationship, only meaning to embarrass the boy further, as he knew Harry found you attractive.

However, when the pair of you froze like deer in headlights, your throat dry as you try and stutter a whimsical response, panicked eyes darting to each other for support, Josh’s eyes blew wide like dinner plates.

“Oh fuck, was it actually you?” All eyes were on you now, your heart pulsating loudly in your chest, waves of embarrassment hitting you. There was a reason you stayed behind the camera, the pressure of attention being directly on you made you crumble.

Harry knew that, so he spoke loudly to drag eyes back to him, now fully-clothed, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

“I knew it!” Tobi called, turning to Simon with a victorious grin on his face.

“Fuck!” Simon cursed, “I said it was bullshit.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked Tobi, blush still tainting his cheeks.

“Harry, you practically can’t keep your eyes off her when you think no one’s watching,” this made you flustered, avoiding Harry’s dazed eyes.

“Fuck sake,” JJ interrupted, everyone turning to him as he fiddled with the camera, “Does that mean we can’t use any of this footage now?”

Chuckles rose from the group, but ultimately it was down to you and Harry to make that decision. His gaze found you, blue eyes laced with affection and a tiny bit of an apology for the embarrassment. Now that the cat was out the bag, he couldn’t care who knew. Of course, there was a terrifying reality of the fans reaction, but you’d been shipped so many times it seemed redundant by now.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” You smiled nervously, Harry looking at the football on the ground to hide his boyish grin, kicking it around a little at his feet.

Before everyone hopped back into recording the Sidemen Sunday, returning to their football forfeits, he made his way to you, whilst his friends were distracted retrieving the footballs that were kicked haphazardly across the pitch.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his cold hand ghosting over yours. The pair of you were used to keeping things out of the public eye, subtle glances, fleeting touches, whispers shared whilst no one was looking.

“I’m nervous,” You replied gently, feeling tense under his watchful eye.

“Don’t be,” His head dropped to kiss your cheek carefully, letting his lips linger on your icy skin, a safe way to reassure you that he was there.

It was only small; a gentle expression scratching the surface of his affectionate ways, but your heart skittered at the feeling of his hand playing with yours and his warm lips pressing against you. The strong scent of his cologne hit you at the closeness, the heat radiating from him in the bitter January air. You were still riding the coat tails of a silly schoolgirl crush as he pulled away, the exhilaration of being able to touch him outside the privacy of closed doors spurring you on.

Reaching up, you touched his cheek savouringly, leaning up onto your tip-toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. His hand slipped under your jacket and onto your clothed waist, pulling you towards him only lightly, smiling into the kiss once he felt the corners of your lips curl. Pulling apart, he hid his flustered blush by placing a kiss to your hairline.

“Do you want to get dinner after this?” You enquired hopefully, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

“Only if I can get a couple more of these,” Harry whistled playfully, pulling the collar of his jumper down to reveal the tender, crimson love bites.

“Harry!” You buried your face in his hoodie, embarrassment heating your cheeks promptly, his chest stuttering as he chuckles at your flustered reaction.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He giggled, and you peeled yourself from his embrace, glancing over to see the rest of the group getting ready to film again.

“I’ll take you somewhere real nice, to make up for it.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr,” You punched his bicep lightly, pushing him away, back towards the camera setup, “Now, go film. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

He nodded, pressing a quick final kiss to your cheek before jogging away sheepishly, batting away the childish calls and digs from his friends.

You watched him happily, smiling at the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes as he joked and battled with his friends, an extra pep in his step as the secretive weight off his shoulders were lifted. He was finally able to care for you in public, to touch you, hold you, tuck the hair behind your ear and kiss you gently without worrying who would find out, and you the same.

It would be hard, when the video releases, and the audience would see the announcement, but you weren’t worried. As long as he was with you, you wouldn’t be scared.

However, you weren’t sure you’ll ever live down the hickeys.

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1986harrington · 1 year

Text

I DON'T WANNA BE YOUR FRIEND (I WANNA KISS YOUR NECK) The Valentine's Day Collection: Part 1/3 Word Count: 1200 Warnings: 18+ (eventually)

It had been a little over a week since you told Steve that you had a date tonight, and his imagination had been taunting him about all the different ways it could go ever since. But you turning up on his doorstep just after midnight? That wasn't one of them.

Valentine's Day was fast approaching and - given his current relationship status - it wasn't something Steve was particularly thrilled about.

You were all bundled into his BMW - you and Steve up front, Eddie, Robin and Nancy in the back. You were parked up in the lot of a shitty diner somewhere between Dustin's house and yours, which had become somewhat of a regular occurance on the way home lately. Steve had insisted it was purely so you could all spend at least an hour together having a semi-grown up conversation without the gaggle of "demanding little shitheads" lurking around. But everyone else knew it was because geographically, you were the next logical drop off after Dustin, and Steve was never quite ready to say goodnight to you.

Well, everyone else but you.

On this particular night as you sat in the front with Steve, you had turned in your seat a little so you could face both him and your friends in the back. At some point you'd become uncomfortable enough that you had to readjust your legs, which ended up across Steve's lap.

You'd asked if it was alright, if he was still comfortable, and Steve had barely managed to supress the embarassing flush of his cheeks with a strained "mhm" that cracked to an almost-squeak somewhere in the middle.

The warm press of your bare skin through the material of his jeans made it hard for him to concentrate, while you went back to your conversation none the wise, laughing at whatever nonsense Robin and Eddie were bickering about in the back. Steve found his mind wandering, unable to zone in any of the overlapping conversations spilling from the backseat as his friends yelled over each other. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers began fiddling with the edge of your sock that was rolled down around the top of you well-worn chucks. When his thumb ghosted across your skin - rubbing soft, mindless circles just above your ankle - your leg twitched a little and Steve immediately moved his hand to push it through his hair nervously.

"Shit, I, uh - sorry. I didn't mean to do... that. " He apologised, all bashful and adorable and you nudged at him with the toe of your shoe.

"It's fine, Harrington, relax. It was actually kinda nice. Jus' tickled, that's all."

Steve's head was swimming.

It was nice.

His hands. Touching you.

Did that mean you wanted him to keep going?

No, surely if you wanted him to you'd say so, right?

Or maybe, you were giving him entirely too much credit, assuming that he wasn't a total dumbass and could read a girl without explicit instructions.

Should he maybe just compromise? Put his hand back on your leg but just not move it? No, that would be dumb. Then he would just be holding your leg like a weirdo.

But if he doesn't put it back, where the hell does he put it? There are 5 adults crammed into a what can hardly be described as a spacious car and there's only so much space to go around, and you did put your legs there to begin with and-

Then you moved, twisting back around in your seat, complaining of a twinge in your back and suddenly you were gone, and his decision was made for him. Steve was still silently cursing himself by the time you finally settled back into your spot, attempting to stretch out the best you could without bumping the roof.

As you did, your top that had been loosely tucked into the waistband of your shorts slipped free, exposing a stripe of warm, soft skin around your waist and Steve practically choked on fresh air before Robin changed the topic of conversation.

"So, what's everyone's big plans for next weekend?"

Miserable grumbles sounded out from everyone in the car, before Steve felt a soft thud on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Stevie," Robin teased, hand dropping from where she had nudged him playfully to poke at his ribs. "You must have some sort of game plan?"

"Hey, hey, back off, Buckley!" Steve squirmed in his seat, accidentally setting off the horn with his elbow as he batted her away.

"Tell me your plans and maybe I'll consider it," She teased, reaching for his ribs again.

"Hey, no. I don't- Robin, seriously, stop - I don't have any plans!" He all but yelled, thrashing around in his seat until she let up. "What's so goddamn special about next weekend anyway?"

"Of course you'd forget," Robin sighed exasperated, slumping back into her seat and admitting defeat.

"It's Valentine's Day, dummy." You replied, a wink sent in his direction along with a gentle nudge of your shoulder against his.

"Oh yeah, right. How could I forget? You know, with me being so chronically single and all."

"Hey, Harrington, don't be such a debbie downer! I bet you could get a date with like, 50 girls, if you wanted."

Yeah, but none of them are you, he grumbled to himself.

"Hm?" You asked sweetly - too sweetly - and when he lifted his head to look at you, he swore it got more painful every damn time.

"I, uh, nothing. You're right. I guess I just didn't really think about it this year."

Lie.

He'd thought about it plenty. Specifically, about asking you out. And not to sit in a movie theatre and make fun of dumb movies, or eat greasy diner food, or babysit a rabble of unruly teens - although he loved doing all those things with you.

No, he wanted to ask you out on a proper date. Wear a proper shirt with buttons on it, pick you up at your house, bring your mom flowers, take you to eat actual food in an actual restaurant with fancy silverware and napkins that you put on your lap and then, on the way home, you could stop by Lover's Lake. Sit out on the hood of his car and look at the stars and pretend your lives normal for once. Then he'd drop you off at home, walk you to your door and if God was on his side, kiss you goodnight.

But none of that happened. Because you'd already turned to face Robin, and as he reached out over the console to take hold of your wrist, to turn you back toward him and ask you that very question, you said:

"Actually, I uh... I have a date!"

Nancy and Robin squealed from their seats in the back, leaning forward to grab at your arms, a chorus of "Oh my god" and "How come you never told us?!" and "We want all the details!" ringing out through the confines of the car.

In the frenzy, no one noticed how Steve slumped back into this seat. How his brow furrowed and his shoulders dropped, one hand rubbing at his jaw, the other tapping with anxious frustration against his thigh.

No one except Eddie, who slapped a hand down on Steve's shoulder from behind in a rare display of reassurance.

"Don't start quitting now, Harrington. It aint over until the fat lady sings."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 5 months

Text

Horror nights (hanjisung)

DISCLAIMER: these longer writings can be read as both standalones or part 2's/prequels etc if you will.

IF you wish to imagine the characters following a chronological narration of events, this one can definitely be read before "I'm not leaving you". as it could serve as a moment in time that happens before the events in the blurb mentioned above.

WARNING : *mentions of blood and graphic fake movie depictions of brutality

PART 1

You really were so surprised at how unphased Han had been throughout the whole first movie. And how he still looked almost amused if not even bored at the horrific scenes currently displaying on the screen. For someone who's usually so sensitive and jumpy and easily overwhelmed, he looked completely at ease while watching literal bodies being sawn apart. Well, not literally, it was just prosthetics and cgi but the oozing blood and inhuman heart wrenching screams felt pretty fucking real and terrifying in your humble opinion.

Horror movie nights were both your favourite and your least favourite hang outs with your friends. You loved the activity in the fall for it was cozy and chill and required minimal effort and preparation. The most proactive thing you had to do was usually just pick some snacks and drive to one of your friends' houses with your duffel bag ready for the sleepover. Admittedly your favourite part was that it gave you the chance to shamelessly cuddle with the boys and enjoy how warm and protective they felt, Han being the more readily available one seeing that he had been your closest friend for longer.

But to counterbalance all that, your least favourite thing about it all was having to stomach up to 4 and a half hours of usually gory splatter horror movie marathons, either that or some fucked up rather mentally violent psychological thriller that Seugmin would choose and subject to you all even though everyone protested. Even trying to set him up with one of your girlfriends didn't persuade him enough to stop picking such awful films, and actually your girlfriend started enjoying them too so it only brought them closer which to Seugmin meant he was even more validated and encouraged to being a menace.

The real worse thing about this scary movies night tradition of sorts though was that it set the perfect storm for your budding feelings for Han: you weren't really sure when it all started but at one point down the many years of your friendship you started looking at him differently, noticing all those little lovable things about him and seeing him grow and become a young handsome man, the man with the biggest golden heart you knew. You slowly but surely started falling for him and you were now stuck in this uncomfortable limbo where you really wanted to confess but you couldn't bring yourself to cause you were sure he only saw you as a friend, even as a sister maybe.

Him being a naturally physically affectionate person didn't help either. You and the boys were all pretty comfortable in each other presence, had no problem being openly cuddly and close so you being all over Felix or Chan and Han being all over you on a typical movie night never raised any eyebrows except you couldn't help but get all warm and fuzzy and jittery inside whenever Han cuddled you and you were always so fucking afraid it would clearly show on your face. You didn't necessarily want any of the guys to notice too much cause you knew damn well they functioned like one body one mind and that none of them were able to keep their mouths shut.

As another blood coiling scream pierces through the TV speakers you flinch visibly and blink manier manier times, trying to collect yourself when the scene doesn't develop in any actual jumpscares but a mere cliffhanger that seems to be lasting forever and Han must've noticed how on edge you look cause he quietly scoots closer to you on the couch, putting an arm around your shoulder and giving it a little squeeze as you low key shift closer to him, Jeongin sitting on the other side, almost half asleep and definitely not noticing you drifting away from him. You swallow inaudibly and pull the blanket up your knees, absentmindedly making sure to cover Han's legs as well and he grins at you at the gesture, pulling you even closer to him.

And that's when you breathe him in and almost pass out cause why does he have to smell so fucking nice? You could already smell the faint scent of his shampoo from your former spot on the couch but now you can clearly inhale the fresh, sweet fragrance along with the muskier and powdery scent of his clothes and skin, the slightest hint of popcorn on his breath. Also why does his hair have to look so shiny and healthy and soft? And why does his side profile has to look so handsome? With the chiseled jawline but chubbier cheeks and his small straight nose and and pretty eyes so intent on the movie and those damn lips, barely parted, the bottom one sticking out so plump and rosy even in the semi darkness of the room - you are officially spiraling.

One of the characters in the movie suddenly gets possessed by some kind of demon and he tears himself apart, blood and guts spilling all over the scene and you just cannot. If one moment ago you were almost too overwhelmed by Han's mere scent you now literally bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying to cover your face with the curtain of your hair which earns you a soft snicker from him, "you're okay there?", he whispers in your hair, unaware of the shiver he just sent down your spine, you nod and mumble something unintelligible and slowly, ever so slowly lift your head up, quickly checking the screen to see if it's safe again, mainly focusing on the shadowed heads of your friends sitting and cuddling all around on the floor.

Han slips his other arm out from beneath the blanket and gently places his hand on top of yours, "squeeze if you need to", he instructs, his left arm tightening around your shoulder now that you straightened out again. You thank him quietly, your voice barely a whisper, and in a tiny leap of faith you interlock your fingers with his, hoping he won't be too bothered by that which doesn't seem to be the case since he just keeps on watching the movie, completely desensitized to the gore.

A few more relatively calm scenes roll by and you start to reassure yourself into believing maybe now there's a little amount of time where the plot just needs to develop without the obsessive amount of splatter. But just as you're about to almost quiet down completely and possibly fall asleep on your friend's shoulder a fucking ghost face thing jumps into full vision and attacks some other characters by slinging an axe down their backs and the sound of bones breaking and blood erupting everywhere makes you literally jump on the couch and whimper in pain as if you're the one being massacred, a few of the boys either mutter profanities themselves or straight up gasp, "oh my god oh my god ohmygod" you whisper/shout squeezing Han's hand so tight he frowns deeply at you and then he is pulling you into his arms in just a matter of mere seconds.

His embrace his warm and welcoming, you shut your almost teary eyes and focus on his fast heartbeat, "it's gone, baby. It's gone, I promise it's all over now", he repeats over and over again, his voice a very low, soft whisper as he pats your back, "gosh... you're shaking", he adds then, first vigorously holding and caressing your back and then cupping your face and stroking your cheeks repeatedly when he realises you're still so shaken, "it's okay, y/n it's okay, it's all over now, see? They killed him. They're walking away in a field now", he narrates softly, guiding you back on the couch, still keeping an arm protectively around your back.

You gradually calm down but still snuggle close to him, your heartbeat going a hundred miles per hour either from the violence you just witnessed or Han's immediate reaction and strong embrace. You kind of enjoy it, this sort of roller coaster of emotions, the edge keeping you very much alert and sensitive to every little touch and shift in vibration coming off of both you and Han who on the other hand seems to now be fully aware and responsive towards your every move, to every hitch on your breath as you reluctantly try to keep on watching the movie.

PART 2

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susagnon · 29 days

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Jirou: Friendzoned and friendzoning

So, Jirou seems to be the female classmate who the majority of 1-A's guys are most comfortable with.

However, contrary to my headcanon about the most popular 1-A guys, I feel like most of them aren't romantically interested in her.

It might sound a bit sad, but I headcanon that her miffedness about Mineta not naming her among those female classmateds that he wanted to perv on, is not entirely unwarranted... although, having Mineta salivating over you, is probably not something that anyone with self-respect should desire.

I can see her having gained some male admirers outside of the hero students, after the cultural festival.

...

At first sight, it might seem that Hagakure and Ashido are the most romance-focused girls in 1-A. However, supplemental and canon materials have depicted the tomboyish Jirou as being the most "boy-crazy" one. Or at least, the one who's the most conscious of the guys being... well, male:

During 1-A's practice match against Togata, she was the only girl who completely freaked out over his nudity.

In one of the drama CD stories, she made a big deal inside her head about holding onto the hem of Tokoyami's uniform, when they visited a haunted house together.

In one of the gag comics, she thought that Bakugou was self-conscious about holding her a girl's hands, when he wasn't actually. She basically just self-projected onto him.

In several of the gag comics, Jirou has been depicted as being self-conscious around Kirishima: One example has her perving on him in his costume. Another one, that retold 1-A's trip to the mall before Deku got accosted by Shigaraki, has Jirou imagining being on a date with Kirishima, when the kids paired up to look for Deku... and be pissed, when Kirishima dropped her at the first sight of Bakugou.

Ironically enough, she displays none of that awareness around guys who were hinted as having some interest in her: Kaminari (and I think, I've read something somewhere about Kouda liking her since their practical exams?)

Oh Jirou. You're definitely among those 1-A kids, who have the most growing up to do in the romantic department.

...

I just noticed that, except for Togata, all of the examples above include guys with whom Kaminari is explicitly friends with.

And now I headcanon poor Kaminari getting friendzoned by Jirou until at least until graduation.

The irony of 1-A’s resident flirt being canonically the first one out of all of 1-A’s boys who recognizes that he had fallen for someone: The girl who’s just goes through successively crushing on all of his close friends... Now who's the flighty one, huh?

Yes, I imagine the unrequited love switcheroo trope, where Jirou won’t be able to recognize and acknowledge her own feelings for Kaminari for a while. She starts to consciously takes notice of him as a romantic prospect, juuust right when he's about to move on from his own feelings for her.

#bnha #mha #mha thoughtbunnies #mha ships #class 1a #jirou kyouka #tokojirou #bakujirou #kirijirou #kamijirou #koudajirou #jirou kyouka headcanon #kaminari denki headcanon #kamijirou headcanon

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

Text

it lives where i live

part 2 is here! this was a difficult one to write because there’s so much i want to say and i have no idea how to say any of it. but this is an important one and i hope you enjoy it :)

wc: 3.4 k. cw: angst, unintentional self-harm (touya scratches himself in his sleep), injury (scratch), blood (scratch), reader is not well mentally, gn reader, no pronouns used

read part 1 here, read part 3 here

There is a warmth against your cheek when you stir, creeping up to heat the skin of your forehead as you stretch and squirm—fighting the lure of just a few more moments of sleep. Blinking slowly, you study the beam of light peaking through the sheer curtains—the way the little refraction cuts through the otherwise dark of your room.

For a moment, in the light, you forget.

But when you roll to your side—away from the light, looking to the door—you feel everything with a force that leaves you breathless.

Despite the weight of it all, you push up off your bed to sit, head hung a little as you take in a few deep breaths. The house is quiet, but you didn’t expect anything else. Your eyes burn a little, and you wait for the tears to come. When they don’t, you sigh—there’s nothing good to come from crying, anyway.

You stand and move to the door, opening it quietly and distantly wondering when you started moving around like an intruder in your own home. There’s a heat that comes with the thought—it curls in your stomach, slithering around the other feelings you’ve been holding there, and you shove it down, down, down, because you don’t want to be angry at him. Because he’s been through enough.

You don’t listen to the thought that tells you: so have you.

When you walk down the hall, the bathroom door is open, and Touya’s bedroom door is not. He must have woken up before you, if he slept at all. You don’t imagine you’ll see him today—at least not during the day. You fight the urge to hover outside his door, ear crammed to the wood to try to hear him breathing.

You make it to the kitchen, flicking the switch on your old coffee maker and reaching your arms above your head, stretching a little. It does well to put you back in your body—you reach to the ceiling and remember that you are still a human being.

You realize that you’d forgotten that, since Touya had come back—that, despite the void inside you his absence caused, the world continued to turn. You felt indignant about that, for a while—how dare anyone else move forward, when he could not? But despite yourself, you did just that. You graduated, went to college, graduated again, got a job. You made other friends, but none ever made it as close to you as he had.

Every single thing you did felt insignificant, despite your best attempts at a normal life. That in itself was something to grieve—you found no sense of accomplishment in the things you’d done, and the loneliness, despite being surrounded by other people, was debilitating. You had found it hard to connect, and sustaining friendships had been difficult because he was always the comparison in the forefront of your mind. Every day, he haunted you. He would never know that you never even asked him to stop.

The coffee maker beeps and you are back again, sighing as you reach for a mug. You pour, breathing the smell in deeply and allowing it to bring you some semblance of comfort. You didn’t much care for the taste, if you were honest—but it was warm in the morning and it felt like something of a ritual—a small, rare indulgence you allowed yourself—so you drink it.

You move through the house on autopilot after that—dressing quickly, brushing your teeth, splashing water on your face in a half-attempt at washing it. You grab the grocery list from where it’s taped to the fridge, and you are halfway to the front door when you hear movement down the hall. You pause, listening as the floor creaks under Touya’s weight, and then it stops.

All at once, you are overcome by the need you feel—the longing that tells you to open that door and hold him to you. To breathe him in and feel the flutter of his heart beat from behind his ribs and know for sure that he is alive and there with you, because you’re still not convinced.

The feeling fades as quickly as it came, and it leaves you gasping, sagging against the wall as you try to come back to yourself. You wonder if it will always be like this. Grieving for him with his ghost in the next room.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to reach a shaky hand toward the door and stagger out of it. The cold, winter air hits you, and it jars you enough that it’s all you can do to just stand there, gulping down the chill into your lungs. You let it move through you, summoning whatever bravery you have to make it to your car and put the keys in the ignition. You feel a tug behind you as you walk—the same one that you felt when you were 13 and walking away from the scattering of the little ash that was left of Touya. The same one you felt as you all but carried his mother back to the car from the hospital after seeing him again. The thread that ties you to him. You wonder how long it can stretch before it starts to fray—or if it already has.

Your phone rings as you pull into the grocery store parking lot. You feel a tinge of regret as you answer it.

“Hi, Natsuo.”

“Hey!” he says into the phone, and the kindness that radiates from his voice warms you a bit, makes you smile. He’d always been a light, despite all he’d been through.

“Sorry,” you tell him, opening the car door and climbing out, back into the cold, “I just got to the store. We needed food—Touya’s still at home.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I can try again later, it’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

You huff out a tiny laugh at his bad joke, and it makes you feel a little lighter. You find that the ache of putting one foot in front of the other is lessened, however minutely.

“Listen,” he starts, sounding a bit cautious, “I was actually hoping to talk to you. I wanted to see how you were doing—I know this probably isn’t easy for you.”

And you hate the way you want to hang up the phone immediately, because now your eyes are burning as you walk into the store and this is definitely not the place to let out whatever has been lurking in your gut, but it’s Natsuo and he’s so good and he cares for you like he always has, so you try to hold on to yourself. When Touya was gone, he stepped in and looked after you, adopting you as some sort of pseudo-sibling. You think he may have needed it as much as you did.

“I’m…managing,” you say after a pause, too tired to tell him anything but the truth, “I just—I feel like I’m going to wake up and he’ll be gone. And it scares me a little that sometimes I wish that were true.”

You think that maybe you shouldn’t have said that last part, not to Natsuo—but the knowing sigh from the other end of the phone tells you that it’s alright.

“Has he said anything yet?”

“No, not really. I think he might have told me good night last night, but I was so tired that I’m not convinced I didn’t make it up.”

“Hey, that’s progress!” he says, but his tone doesn’t quite deliver the excitement you think he wanted to. You realize that he might feel as worn down as you do.

“Do you think it’ll ever get better?” you ask quietly, not sure if you want to know the answer.

There’s a pause, long enough that you start to think the call may have been disconnected, and then he says, “Don’t give up on him, okay? I think…I think he’s trying.”

You make it back to your house and you haul the groceries up to the front door, the conversation with Natsuo at the forefront of your mind, despite your best attempts to will it away. You know how hard it’s been for him to be away from Touya—to know that he is alive and so close and not be able to see him. The commission has not yet given you the greenlight to have his family over to visit, even without Enji. You understand, and you think it would probably be too much for Touya anyway—to see all of them and believe that the only thing that has changed—really, fundamentally changed, into something so mangled and nearly unrecognizable—is him. You wish you could show him that it wasn’t true, but it’s hard, and the guilt you feel reinforces that. Either way you spin it, the world kept turning. You all kept living.

You think you could understand why he’d want to burn everything to ash, after seeing that.

You set the bags on the counter, grabbing one and moving to the fridge to fill it, and you think of him, like you have done every waking moment since you found out he was still alive. Part of you is angry at that, like you seem to be at everything now, because the life you are suffering through and the thoughts you think are not yours. You wonder if they ever were, really—was there ever a single moment that you were separate from Touya? Even in his absence, you never could tell where he stopped and you began.

You all but jump out of your skin when you hear movement behind you. You whip your head around, a surprised shriek preemptively gathering in the back of your throat, when you see Touya—glass from last night in hand, visibly startled by your reaction. Setting it down in the sink, his movements are slow, and you have to fight to regulate your breathing. You stand there, eyes wide and clutching a bag of spinach to your chest, frozen in place as he turns to look at you.

His eyes meet yours and he doesn’t look away, for the first time in the weeks he’s been here, and suddenly you are 13 and he’s the king of the castle made of sticks. He’s telling you that he’ll protect you —his counsel, his confidant, his right hand—from anything, and all you can think is you liar, you liar, you liar.

It takes every ounce of control you have to not audibly whimper under his stare, but then he opens his mouth and rasps a soft thanks, and you think he’s probably thanking you for the water from last night or maybe for the groceries but then it doesn’t matter at all because suddenly your vision blurs and then you’re crying.

It’s too much—the blue of his eyes that hasn’t changed at all and the way you are so angry at him you think the feeling alone might burn you alive from the inside and the way he is standing in front of you like a deer in headlights, an arm half-extended to you because he has no idea what’s happening or how to stop it. And you want to laugh, because you don’t either.

But right now you can’t do anything but cry, head hung and arms around yourself, fridge door still open and groceries dropped on the floor around your feet. Suddenly you’re afraid that if you let go, you may very well fall apart, bodily.

You cry until you feel like there’s nothing left in you, and when you wipe your eyes you find that he’s still standing there. And then you’re wishing that you were still sad because now you’re just angry, and there’s nothing to stop you from scrunching up your face and spitting out a venom-filled where were you? at him.

And you can’t really blame him when, after a pause, he turns on his heel and retreats to his room.

You find yourself once again suffocating in the silence of your house through the evening. You drag yourself to bed early—not bothering to clean yourself or change—and faceplant into the covers. It’s not necessarily your intention to fall asleep, and you don’t even realize you have until a hoarse, sharp cry has you shooting upright from your bed, blinking blearily and trying to sink your fingers deep enough into your consciousness to drag it up to a functioning level.

You sit there for a moment, barely breathing as you strain to hear through the wall. And then you hear a tiny, pained whimper and you are out of your bed and moving out of your room before you can even consider if you really heard it or not.

You do the only thing you can think of, and you hurry to the kitchen to fill up the glass Touya had returned earlier. Water in hand, you walk back down the hallway—slowly, like you’re approaching a feral cat, with a forearm hovering in front of your face to thwart any fearful swats—and stop outside of his door.

“Touya?” you call gently, knocking on the door softly with a knuckle, “I have some water for you.”

There’s no movement behind the door—you expected as much, so you let out a slow breath and take a seat, back leaning up against the door. Part of you wonders if this is okay—if you should just leave it outside of the door for him to pick up after you’ve gone back to bed—but the other part is so tired of this. Tired of tiptoeing around him, tired of pretending that god forsaken elephant in the room that crushes both of you isn’t there. You think you might owe him an apology for earlier, too.

You realize you’d fallen asleep when the sudden absence of the door behind you has you startling. You look up from your spot on the floor, and he’s there in the doorway—blue eyes wide and staring at you like he doesn’t know what to make of this. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, despite the bitterness you feel, “I just wanted to give y—hey, are you bleeding?”

His eyes move to where yours are now locked on the hand of his that grips the door, and he sucks in a breath when he sees what you are seeing.

A fresh wound over the back of his hand—a tear of the skin over the exact spot his staples used to be, the blood now dripping onto your floor.

Neither of you move, let alone say anything, for a long moment.

You are the first to shatter the silence: “Can I clean that for you?”

His head is down, but you can see him eye you from under his white bangs, carefully mulling it over. It is a painfully long time before you see him nod minutely. You pull yourself to your feet and turn, walking toward the bathroom. You hope he chooses to follow.

You throw open the cabinet under the sink to locate your first aid kit. Luckily, Touya’s care team had sent some supplies with him to care for his skin, but you’re not sure if there’s anything that can be helpful if he needs stitches.

You hear him enter the bathroom behind you, and a wave of something akin to relief washes over you. You hand the glass of water you’re still holding to him, and he takes it from you silently. You gather up the supplies you think will be the most helpful, and you turn to face him.

And you’re immediately a little woozy, because he is still bleeding, a little more than what you’d consider a reasonable amount. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, and he just stands there, eyeing you. Cautious.

“You—can you sit on the toilet so I can look at it?”

He moves silently after a moment, sitting before you. It is another before he lifts his hand up to you, so slowly, his whole body tense.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

He hums, short and more of a grunt than anything, and you slowly wrap your fingers around his wrist, turning it to examine the gash.

After cleaning a little bit of the blood away, you realize it’s not as bad as you’d thought. But it does need rinsed out, patched up.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you tell him quietly, unwrapping the sterile wipes from their packages, “but if you think there’s a problem with the grafts, we should call the doctor.”

He’s silent and you continue working, unfolding the towelette and wiping it over the wound, murmuring a small apology for the sting. You’re not sure if he feels nothing or everything—not sure how the nerves in his body react to stimuli anymore—but if he’s in pain, he’s not showing it.

“It’s—not that,” he mutters, and you have to physically restrain yourself from tensing the hand that’s still holding onto him. To hear him speak is so foreign and so devastating that you almost have to block it out to focus on the task at hand. He hesitates, and out of the corner of your eye you see him open his mouth and shut it again, like the words are there but unwilling to come out.

“Okay,” you tell him, pulling a piece of gauze from its wrappings and applying it to the clean wound. You pull another few to add to it, and he finds his voice again. You hope you’re not shaking.

“Happens when I sleep,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him, and he’s turning his head away from you, like he needs to look at anything else to get it out, “the—the dreams.”

You don’t look at him, but you desperately want to. You unwrap the roll of bandages, considering your next words carefully.

“Did you do this to yourself?”

He sighs at that, like you’re the biggest idiot in the world for asking. Like it inconveniences him to have to even hear it. You want to kick yourself, and after a lengthy pause, you wish you hadn’t asked at all.

“Not…on purpose. In my sleep.”

You have no idea what to say to that, and you have the feeling that if you say anything at all you might start crying again and you know that would startle him, so you grit your teeth and nod—almost mechanically—as you wrap the bandage around his hand with as much finality as you can muster. You force yourself not to linger, drawing your fingers back like he burned you. Immediately regretting it when you realize that’s probably what it seemed like to him.

“Should be okay now,” you say, and it’s almost a whisper. Thick with emotion that refuses to leave you be.

“Thanks.”

And it’s so much softer than you think he should ever be, especially now. It’s alien—wrong, you think, bitterly—and you don’t respond because there’s a part of you that is so, so devastated at the fact that up until very recently he’s had no one to tend to his wounds like this. Like he deserves—gently, and with humanity. You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about the dreams.

“Are you—” he starts, and then stalls, and you watch as his hands clench and then unclench in his lap, the fresh bandage straining around his knuckles. You watch the movement and wait for him to continue.

“Are you angry?”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, already searching for you. You see him tense, like it’s too much, but he doesn’t look away, and neither do you. You decide that it’s not fair to either of you to lie, so you tell him the truth.

“Yes,” you whisper, and his face doesn’t change. He doesn’t say anything to that, and you think that maybe it’s for the best, because right now would be just about the worst time for him to suddenly want to unpack your anger. You are bone tired, teetering on some edge that is far too unstable, and you just want to retreat back into your bed and cry it out. So you stand, murmur a quiet good night to him, and you do just that.

You’re not sure how long it is before you’ve wrung yourself out, and you give up on any hope of sleep, pulling yourself up off the mattress with the intent of making sure Touya made it back to his room.

When you walk into the hall, you nearly trip over it—the glass of water from earlier, full again—a white flag at your door, waiting for you.

this fic belongs to me (@b-writes-things). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

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intheticklecloset · 4 months

Text

Miscellaneous Coffee Shots #2

A compilation of coffee shots for fandoms that I'm pretty sure I will not be writing for anymore. This compilation includes: Dakaichi, Demon Slayer, Junjou Romantica, Sekaiichi Hatsukoi, and Snow White With the Red Hair.

~~~

Dakaichi

Lee Junta, Ler Takato

“Ah!” Takato barely covered up his surprised squeak in time, blushing furiously as his partner leaned over his shoulder from behind and chuckled into his ear.

“Gotcha,” Junta teased, arms slipping around the smaller man playfully. “You’re so sensitive, Takato~”

Takato growled, wriggling in his grip. “I’ll make you regret that,” he snapped. “Mark my words.”

Junta chuckled again, not believing him in the slightest, but it only made the fire in Takato’s chest burn even more. He would get revenge this time. He would!

Later that night after they’d put the groceries away, had some dinner, watched a movie, and were climbing into bed, Junta began kissing his neck and ears as he usually did to get things going, but this time Takato was having none of it. In a move so quick it actually caught the light-haired man by surprise, the smaller of them was suddenly on top with Junta looking up at him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Takato?” Junta purred, smirking.

Takato flushed, but he was not backing down now. “I’m making you pay for all the times you’ve embarrassed me in public, you demonic angel. Take this!”

Fingers flew across Junta’s torso, causing him to snort and cackle, arms pressing against his sides reflexively. “Hehehehey! Tahahahakato, dohohohon’t do that!”

“‘Don’t do that?’” Takato asked, incredulous, beginning to dig once his fingertips found a good spot just above his partner’s hips. The way the light-haired man threw his head back with clenched teeth as helpless giggles bubbled out of him was beyond worth it and so adorable Takato almost couldn’t stand it. “You never stop teasing me, even when I beg you to. So yes, I think I will do this. Seems you’re quite ticklish, Junta~ How could you have kept this from me? Hmm?”

Junta whined, barely managing to catch his lover’s eye as his giggles grew up and became genuine laughter, Takato’s thumbs rubbing circles into his hipbones and turning him to putty far quicker than either would have imagined possible. “Ahahahahaha! I’m sohohohohohorry, Takato! Plehehease!”

Takato snorted. “Sorry? No, you’re not sorry. But you will be.” He smirked, settling in, determined to make his infuriating partner beg him for once. “You will be.”

Demon Slayer

1) Lee Tanjiro, Ler Inosuke

“Fight me!”

“No.” Tanjiro ducked under Inosuke’s swinging kick, unsurprised and unbothered. It wasn’t unusual for his friend to get riled up like this, so dodging out of the way really felt like part of his everyday routine at this point. “You know I won’t fight you.”

“Yes, you will,” Inosuke insisted, kicking again, missing again. “I’ll get you to give up and fight me eventually!”

“I really won’t.” Another dodge, another jump over an attempted sweeping of his legs. Tanjiro rolled with it every step of the way. “Eventually you’ll be the one to give up and leave me alone.”

“Not today, Manjiro!”

“Tanjiro.”

Inosuke grumbled, eyeing his rival closely. Kicking the air wasn’t doing him any good. Maybe punching would be better? Though he wasn’t as good at that, it was at least worth a shot, wasn’t it? Balling up his fist, he swung his arm towards Tanjiro’s torso.

Tanjiro was surprised by the change in tactic, but still had enough training under his belt to jump out of the way in time. However, he was still unprepared enough that in trying to dodge he tripped and fell over. Before he could sit up again, Inosuke had seized his moment and pinned him to the ground.

“Fight me!”

“No!”

“I’m not letting you up until you agree to fight me in mortal combat – why are you laughing?!”

Tanjiro was biting his lip, desperately trying not to giggle and failing miserably. He flailed his arms, trying to claw Inosuke off of him. “I’m s-sorry! I’m not trying to! Y-You’re – ehehehehehe! – you’re tickling me!”

“What? Tickling?” Inosuke glanced down, confused and frustrated. He curled his fingers in, digging into his friend’s upper ribs, making Tanjiro jolt and giggle even louder.

“S-Stohohohohop!”

“I wasn’t trying to tickle you,” Inosuke grumbled, settling himself on Tanjiro’s waist, purposefully digging and clawing into his ribs and underarms this time. “But this seems to make you weak against me just as well, so I’ll take it!”

“Nohohohohoho! Wait, Inohohohosuke! Dohohohohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? Don’t tickle you? Don’t tell me you’re giving up that easily, Banjoro.”

“It’s Tahahahahahanjiro!”

“What kind of demon slayer are you if you can’t take a little tickling? I’m not even hurting you, you wimp!” Inosuke laughed, though it wasn’t mean. It sounded like he was enjoying messing with Tanjiro this way more than he was letting on.

Tanjiro laughed when his friend scribbled into his underarms, clamping his arms down in the split second before Inosuke grabbed both of his wrists and shoved them above his head, pinning them there while continuing to tickle gently but relentlessly.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

“Ahahahahahahaha! Stahahahahahahap! I behehehehehet you’re juhuhuhuhust as tihihihicklish as mehehe!”

“Oh yeah? Bold words for someone who’s losing the battle right now.” Inosuke laughed victoriously. “Guess the only way for you to find out is to fight me.”

2) Lee Tanjiro, Ler Inosuke

“How could you?!” Zenitsu screamed, beginning to punch Tanjiro from behind before the poor man even had the chance to turn around.

“How could I what? Ow!” Tanjiro whined, trying to defend himself but not fighting back as his blonde friend continued to hit him. “Zenitsu, stop!”

“You told her, didn’t you?!”

“Told who what?!”

“Nezuko!”

Upon hearing his sister’s name, Tanjiro was only more confused. “What about her?”

“You told her, didn’t you? You told her how ticklish I am!”

Tanjiro could only blink at him, completely lost. “Uh…” Truthfully, he hadn’t even known Zenitsu was ticklish at all, let alone how much. “Did she…?”

“Yes!” Zenitsu resumed punching him. “And it’s all your fault!”

“Stop hitting me!” Tanjiro whined, finally managing to grab his friend’s arms and stop him. It was at this point that Inosuke seemed to have overheard their ruckus and came barreling up to join in on whatever was happening. “Zenitsu, I didn’t tell her anything. But even if I did, it’s no reason to hit me.”

“Why’s he hitting you?” Inosuke demanded, bouncing on his feet. “What did I miss? Who are we beating up?”

“No one!” Tanjiro exclaimed at the same time Zenitsu cried, “He told Nezuko I’m ticklish!”

“I did not!” the swordsman was growing weary of this conversation fast. He let go of Zenitsu’s hands and rubbed his forehead.

“Jeez, I thought you’d have been happy to have her lay hands on you,” Inosuke said brazenly.

Tanjiro was indignant. “Hey! That’s my sister you’re talking about!”

Zenitsu had gone silent. Very silent. Too silent.

Both of his friends watched him, exchanging concerned glances. Tanjiro opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the blonde had perked up again.

“You’re right! I never thought of it that way!” Zenitsu then hugged the same friend he’d been punching just seconds before and took off, shouting over his shoulder, “Thanks for telling her, Tanjiro!”

“But I didn’t!” Tanjiro insisted, sighing, knowing it was all useless.

“Now, that was interesting.” Inosuke looked at him strangely. “Bold of you to spread rumors about other people when you’re pretty ticklish yourself, Hanhiro.”

Tanjiro sighed again. “Tanjiro. And I didn’t start any rumors – eeeek!”

Inosuke’s smirk could be felt even through his boar’s mask. He started out pinching, but quickly tackled his friend to the ground and tickled with more vigor, digging into Tanjiro’s ribs and sides mercilessly. Tanjiro squealed and threw his head back with a stream of giggles, weakly kicking his legs, trying to roll away.

“Hah! See? You’re ticklish, too!” Inosuke cackled victoriously. “Not so bold anymore, huh? Don’t go around telling people how ticklish blondie is when it’s just as easy to take you down!”

Tanjiro whined through his growing laughter, shaking his head in a desperate but useless gesture. “Buhuhuhuhut I dihihihihidn’t say anythihihihihing! Ahahahahaha! Inosuke, plehehehease, stohohohohop!”

Inosuke merely snorted in a way that Tanjiro knew meant he was having fun, and the swordsman resigned himself, knowing there was no way out of this ticklish situation now…

3) Lee Inosuke, Ler Tanjiro

“Keep up, Renjiro!”

“It’s Tanjiro!” Tanjiro shouted back at Inosuke, who was currently several paces in front of him as they ran laps around the complex where they’d been healing from yet another intense battle against the demons.

Why were they running laps? Well…honestly, Tanjiro wasn’t entirely sure himself. He’d been startled awake by Inosuke insisting they get back up and active (his friend was never one for sitting still, even while healing) before physically dragging him from bed and outside into the morning sunshine. Then Inosuke had taken off, and Tanjiro had never caught up to him since. It was amazing, really, considering how light on his feet he usually was.

“You’re getting too soft!” the boar-headed man called back to him now. “What if we get called into battle right now? You’ll die on the spot!”

Tanjiro couldn’t even argue with that. Gradually he slowed to a stop, bending over at the waist to try and regain some of his lost breath. Inosuke kept going, but a minute later he had circled around the complex and caught up to him from behind.

“Wimping out already?” Inosuke laughed. “I really am superior to you, Yonjiro!”

“Tanjiro,” Tanjiro corrected breathlessly as his friend sprinted past. “Why don’t you take a minute? You’re going to wear yourself out!”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my victory!”

Within the next minute, Tanjiro had recovered his breath completely and was standing upright, turned to face the direction he knew Inosuke would be coming from any second now. Sure enough, after another half a minute he reappeared, looking – as much as Tanjiro could tell beneath his friend’s mask – just as worn out but stubbornly refusing to take a break.

“Inosuke, stop,” Tanjiro tried to order, but typical Inosuke completely ignored him and began to run past again.

Tanjiro quickly channeled what little energy he had left into bolting after his friend before he got too far away, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind, trying to slow him down by sheer force of gravity.

When that didn’t work – and before he could be pummeled to death by his friend’s endlessly pumping legs – Tanjiro did the only thing left he could think of. He dug his fingers into Inosuke’s ribs.

Inosuke let out a startled yell and twisted as he ran, sending both of them to the ground in a heap. Before he could think twice, Tanjiro was on top of him, fingers dancing along his ribs and sides quickly but with a light, playful touch that merely kept his friend in snorting giggles – enough to keep him from taking off again easily.

“Take a break,” Tanjiro said now that he had his friend’s full attention. “You’re going to wear yourself out, and then you’ll be dead if we get called into battle.”

“Thohohose dehehehehemons cahahahan’t kill me!” Inosuke cackled out his defiant reply, squirming on the ground and only barely trying to fight Tanjiro off of him. “And neheheheheither will thihihihihis pathetic attehehehehempt!”

Tanjiro smiled and kept tickling, enjoying the sudden, fun turn this morning exercise had taken. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to kill you, isn’t it?”

4) Lee Inosuke, Ler Tanjiro

“Gyah!”

Inosuke turned to Tanjiro, who had jumped like a startled kitten at the slightest movement nearby. It was just another weird shadow, but the overactive boy didn’t seem to realize he was panicking over nothing.

“I’ve already told you,” Inosuke said, “there’s no one there. Stop being such a wuss.”

“You can’t know there’s no one there,” Tanjiro replied, hand on the hilt of his katana, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“Of course I can.”

“You’re too relaxed! You need to have your guard up, Inosuke.”

“It is up.” Finally the boar turned to look at him fully. “Why are you so freaked out? This is weird for you.”

Tanjiro hesitated. He knew his friend was right, and he didn’t exactly want to admit why, but…

“My…my sister,” he finally managed, glancing around. “She’s not here with me, and it’s making me jumpy. I’m used to her weight on my back. And…I don’t know. Having her here just makes me feel better.”

Inosuke snorted. “Thanks.”

Tanjiro immediately realized how that may have sounded and backtracked. “No, no! Having you nearby helps, too, Inosuke! It’s just—”

“She’s your family. I get it,” Inosuke replied in a gentler tone, crossing his arms. “But seriously, you gotta calm down. There’s nothing here, and if there was, I’d know about it. You’re safe with me.”

The words were comforting, and Tanjiro finally felt the tension in him bleed out a little. “Thanks.”

Inosuke nodded, then turned and continued trekking onward. Tanjiro hurried to keep up. Watching his brazen friend so confidently strolling through a forest in the middle of the night both empowered him and made him curious. “So…if something were out to get you, you’d sense it?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Yes, I would know.”

Tanjiro grinned, feeling mischevious. He lunged forward. To his surprise, Inosuke indeed suspected he’d do so and whirled around to meet him, but it did nothing to prevent the two of them from sprawling onto the ground together. Tanjiro’s hands quickly found purchase on his friend’s stomach, scribbling wildly. He was rewarded with a snort and a leg kicking into the air behind him

“Whahahahat?! Why are you – ahahahaha stahahahap! Hanhiro!”

Tanjiro chuckled, quickly laying on top of Inosuke so he couldn’t wriggle away easily, enjoying his surprisingly high-pitched laughter. “Maybe I should tickle you until you get my name right!”

“Nohohohoho!” Inosuke cackled, bucking again, another snort filling the air between them. “Quihihihihihit it! Lehehehehet me go!”

“But hearing you laugh makes me feel safer,” Tanjiro teased.

Inosuke groaned through his increasing giggles.

The two of them wound up being fairly late getting back home.

5) Lee Tanjiro, Ler Nezuko (ft. Zenitsu and Inosuke)

There were screams coming from a few rooms down the hall, startling Inosuke and Zenitsu into first looking at each other for confirmation they were both hearing it and then flying out of their beds in the sick ward to investigate the source.

Zenitsu fretted the whole way, worried it was a demon that neither of them were really prepared to fight in this state, but when Inosuke reached the room and flung open the door, both of them stopped short on the threshold, staring.

“GUYS!!” Tanjiro shrieked, red-faced and teary-eyed, laughing himself silly as his sister sat on his waist and danced her fingers along his torso, one hand plunged into his armpit. “HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

“What…?” Inosuke muttered, but Zenitsu’s eyes were wide and he couldn’t help blushing seeing the beaming smile Nezuko gave them both. Even though she couldn’t speak, it was apparent to them both how happy she was reducing her older brother to hysterics like this.

Neither of them moved.

Tanjiro continued kicking the air and pushing weakly at her hands, begging for mercy. “PLEHEHEASE, NEZUKO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! I FEHEHEHEHEEL BEHEHEHEHETTER I SWEHEHEHEHEAR!!”

Zenitsu shoved past Inosuke and hurried over to them both. Nezuko watched him, curious as to which one of them he’d help. “Was Tanjiro feeling sad? Is that why you’re tickling him?”

She nodded.

He shot Tanjiro a smirk and positioned himself behind his friend’s head, reaching for his flailing wrists and pulling them away so his entire torso was opened up for Nezuko. “Then allow me to assist you, my lady!”

Nezuko beamed at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“WAHAHAHAHAIT NO!! NOHOHOHO, PLEASE, I PROHOHOHOHOMISE I FEEL BEHEHEHEHETTER!!” Tanjiro cried, feeling panicked but also secretly enjoying this small return to normalcy for both him and his sister. Still, he screeched when she scribbled in both his underarms, Zenitsu’s hold on him keeping him at her mercy entirely. He suddenly remembered his other friend in the doorway and begged, “INOSUKE!! HEHEHEHEHELP ME, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Inosuke continued to stare for another few moments, then took a few tentative steps into the room. He was on Nezuko so fast no one had a chance to process it until her squealing giggles filled the air. The boar was just as surprised as the others that he’d chosen to intervene this way.

“Hey! Get your hands off her!” Zenitsu cried, lunging for him, but Tanjiro grabbed him around the waist and dug in, making the blonde shriek with laughter as well.

Soon all four of them were tickling each other wildly, not caring who was who, not taking sides. It was a rare moment of blissful fun for them all, and they took their time indulging in it while they could. When it was all over, all four of their hearts were full.

Junjou Romantica

Lee Misaki, Ler Usagi

“Are you stuck?”

“No!” Misaki shrieked, already knowing where this was going even as he struggled to get the shirt over his head and onto his body.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No! Don’t touch me-heeee! Usahahahagi-san!” the brunette squealed and burst into laughter at the light, teasing fluttering of fingers along his ribs. He wanted to bring his arms down to protect himself, but that was part of the problem – his arms were trapped in the shirt above his head, and the dark color of the fabric made it impossible for him to see anything.

Not that he needed to. He could feel Usagi smirking at him.

“There you go. Keep wiggling, it’ll come down eventually.”

“Usagi-sahahahahahan!” Misaki pleaded, trying to arch away from his evil boyfriend but only succeeding in toppling onto the couch face first, making it easier for the older man to pin him down and tickle him silly. “Nohohohohohohoho! Stahahahahahahahap, plehehehehehease – this is tohohohohohorture!”

“Is it?” Usagi teased lowly, practically lying on top of him, murmuring right into his ear, pinning him in place as he tickled. “Sounds like you’re having fun to me.”

“Please! I can’t breheheheheheheathe!” Misaki cried, truly gasping for air in the confined space he found himself trapped in. “Usagi-san!”

Thankfully Usagi could tell he was being serious, so he sat up and stopped tickling, finally grabbing the hem of the shirt to help tug it down the rest of the way, revealing Misaki’s blushing, giggly face as he turned his head to the side and gasped for air. “There you are.”

“That was mean,” Misaki pouted.

Usagi smirked, flipped him onto his back, and lightly scribbled along his belly teasingly. “I can’t wait for you to take it off later~” Misaki’s eyes widened, his blush darkened, and he grabbed the closest throw pillow he could find and smacked it into Usagi’s laughing face.

Sekaiichi Hatsukoi

1) Lee Ritsu, Ler Takano

“I’m mean? How would you like me to critique people, then?” Takano asked as he and Ritsu stepped out of the elevator, headed to their respective apartments for the night. At least, that was Ritsu’s plan, anyway – but god knew Takano often managed to get him into his own apartment one way or another.

“Just be nicer about it,” Ristu muttered. “It’s not that hard. Instead of saying something sucked, you could say you understand what they were trying to do but think it would come across better a different way. Authors are delicate creatures, you know.”

“Too delicate.” Takano sighed. “Whatever. I stand by my methods, and I daresay you could learn from them yourself, Onodera.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hey.” Takano grabbed his hand. “Stay with me tonight.”

Ritsu yanked his hand away. “No, thank you.”

“What’s the matter? Should I be nicer in my methods of persuasion?”

“You could stop grabbing me randomly like that, for one.”

Takano shook his head. “Maybe you just need a lighter touch.”

“L-Lighter…touch?” Ritsu took a step back, gasping when he felt the wall behind him. Takano trapped him against it. He didn’t like where this was going. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh?” The taller man smirked, gently trailing his fingers down Ritsu’s sides to his waist. “You used to love it when I tickled you, remember?”

Ritsu’s eyes went wide. He struggled to keep his giggles at bay but was helpless against his wide smile. “S-Stop it!”

“Don’t you remember, Onodera? How you used to beg me to tickle you in high school?”

“Shut up! I’m not a kid anymore!”

“No,” Takano conceded, grabbing onto his sides with a vengeance and wrestling him into his apartment with relentless tickling, grinning at the squeals and giggles he got in response. “But you’re still just as ticklish.”

“Nohohohohohoho! W-Wahahahahahait! Takano! S-Stohohohohohohop…!”

2) Lee Kisa, Ler Yukina

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you really laugh before,” Yukina murmured into Kisa’s ear as he hugged him from behind, making the smaller man blush and squirm in his grasp.

“So?” Kisa mumbled. “Let me go, I’m trying to cook dinner.”

“What’re you making?”

“Food.”

“Oh, good. I thought it might be shoes.”

Kisa smirked, biting his lip. He tried not to giggle.

Yukina groaned playfully, grabbing his sides, tickling him. “Oh, come on, that was funny!”

“Hey! N-No! Yuki – stohohohop!” Kisa squealed, bringing his arms to his sides defensively, ladle still in hand. “You’ll buhuhuhuhurn me! Stohohohop!”

Yukina snatched the ladle from his hand while still tickling up into his underarm, forcing Kisa to twist to the side so he could put the utensil back in the pot and turn off the burner before wrestling his smaller boyfriend to the floor and pinning him there, fingers flying up and down his torso.

“Nohohohohohoho! No fahahahahahair tickling – Yuki, plehehehehehehease!” Kisa laughed, flailing and kicking, head thrown back with helpless cackles. “Ahahahahahahaha! Stohohohohohop!”

Yukina beamed down at him, slipping a hand beneath his sweater to scratch at his navel, adoring the shriek of desperation that he pulled from his partner. “You are too cute.”

“I’m nohohohohohohohot! Plehehehehease stop it, Yukihihiehehehehehe!”

Yukina gently took his hands and laced their fingers together, pinning them to the floor on either side of Kisa’s head. He leaned down to kiss him. “I love your laugh~”

“S-Shut up,” Kisa muttered, blushing, turning away. “It’s not cute.”

“It is.”

“Is not.”

Fingers scribbled against his side again, making Kisa yelp and Yukina smile. “Cute.”

“Nohohohohohoho!”

“I’ll tickle you all night long if that’s what it takes to convince you~” the taller man teased, biting his boyfriend’s ear gently. “Is that what you want?”

“N-No! Ah, wait – wahahahahahahait, Yuki! Plehehehease not agahahahahahain!”

Yukina chuckled. “Better admit it then, Shouta~”

“B-Buhuhuhuhuhut I’m nohohohot—! GAH!! NOHOHOHOHO, OKAY!! OKAHAHAHAHAY I’M CUTE PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!! NOT THERE – YUKI!!!”

Snow White With the Red Hair

1) Lee Zen, Ler Izana

“Don’t do that!” Zen snapped at Izana, the next words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m ticklish!”

Izana quirked an amused brow at him. Zen immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, flinching on instinct when his older brother took a step toward him again. “Brother—”

“Ticklish? Yes, I seem to recall you being quite ticklish.” Izana smirked, lunging for him once more.

Oh, how Zen wished Mitsuhide and Kiki were here. He reacted on pure instinct and training, fighting off his older, stronger brother easily at first, but it soon became apparent that Izana hadn’t really been trying right away. As soon as he had a mind to win, the crown prince grabbed both of Zen’s wrists and shoved him against the nearest wall, pinning him in place.

“That’s more like it,” he said, chuckling at his little brother’s vain attempts to escape.

“Don’t – Izana, don’t!” Zen let out a squeak when his brother pinched his side that instantly made him go pink in the cheeks. “This is childish!”

“On the contrary. I think this is exactly what you need,” Izana replied, then scribbled over Zen’s exposed belly, making the younger prince dissolve into helpless giggles. “Does your lady herbalist know how sensitive you are?”

“Nohohohohoho!” Zen both protested and pleaded in the same breath, snickers escaping him whether he liked it or not. He hadn’t been tickled by anyone – let alone his distant older brother – in years. It was almost as if the passage of time had made him more ticklish, because he did not remember it being this bad, and Izana was hardly touching him! “Stop! Izana, quihihihihihit it!”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Zen?” Izana mused as though he weren’t making his brother cackle helplessly at his touch. “I’d almost forgotten how girly your giggles are.”

“Thehehehehehey’re nohohohot!” Zen snapped as best he could manage, cheeks going from pink to red. “Stohohohohop already!”

Finally Izana seemed to have had his fun. He released Zen and turned his back on him in one swift motion, leaving the younger prince to gather himself. “Well, that’s enough playing around.”

“You’re the one who—!”

“We both have work to do, so we’d best get to it, brother.” Izana’s tone was businesslike as usual, but Zen noticed with no small amount of surprise how his elder sibling shot him a knowing smile over his shoulder as he departed. “We’ll have to catch up some other time.”

2) Lee Obi, Ler Shirayuki

When Ryu stepped into the medical room, he took one look at Obi’s giggling form and stopped short. “What—?”

“Ryu! Perfect timing,” Shirayuki said, waving toward the lab next door. “I need you to make an antidote for Obi. Someone slipped him something in his drink and now he’s…well, like this.”

Obi snickered like it was a terrible joke he was trying not to react to. “I’m lohohohohohoopy!”

“You are,” Shirayuki replied gently as if responding to a child. “Ryu?”

Ryu blinked and stepped away without another word.

It was certainly unheard of for Obi to be so openly happy about something, but the thought that someone had managed to give him something to lower his defenses made one wonder if the drink wasn’t intended for Zen and Obi had swiped it first.

Either way, they had an overly giggly bodyguard to deal with now.

“You’re prehehehehehetty,” Obi cackled at Shirayuki, taking her arm and swinging it playfully. “I lihihihihihihike you. And Zehehehehen. And eheheheheveryone!”

Shirayuki was doing her best not to laugh herself. This was a serious matter and she knew it. “Thank you, Obi. I like you too.”

“You lihihihihike Zen mohohohohore.”

“Well…I like him differently, that’s all.” She blushed at his straightforwardness, though that in itself wasn’t all that unusual.

Then Obi pulled her down so she was sitting in his lap, and that was unusual. “You lihihihihike me dihihihihifferently?”

Shirayuki tried to stand up, but when he wouldn’t let her she resorted to the only thing she could think of. She grabbed his ribs and curled her fingers in.

To her surprise, Obi let out a girlish squeal and collapsed on the mattress, clutching his stomach. “Thahahahahat tihihihihihickles!”

She really shouldn’t. She needed to get him back to normal, now. It wouldn’t be fair of her to take advantage of him like this…

He reached up as if to tickle her back, and she panicked, sliding her hands to his hips and tickling there instead.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Obi cried, bursting into actual laughter now. He gripped her wrists and squirmed crazily as she poked and prodded his waistline. “NO, DOHOHOHON’T TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLE ME THEHEHEHEHEHERE!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

From the next room, Ryu called, “Um…Shirayuki?”

“Just hurry!” she called back, grateful he couldn’t see them, see the huge smile on her face as she played with her friend a little more. “His giggling is getting worse!”

Later, when it was all over and Obi was back to normal, Shirayuki would think of that day and cringe at how caught up she’d been in the moment. But then again, it had been so worth it to hear Obi let go and laugh like that…

#fanfiction #tickle drabbles #coffee shots #sentence starters #compilation #dakaichi #demon slayer #junjou romantica #sekaiichi hatsukoi #snow white with the red hair #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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blogofloathing · 3 months

Text

Part 1 of ?! Gregory C And The Food Expediancy

Slimy wriggling little bugger, that's what the folks up there would call me surely, Gregory thought.

As the–quite aptly described—slimy wriggling little bugger, slinked through the S.I.T steam tunnels.

I'm safe here, he thought, no one came down here anyway, no one would be around to look at me.

The wet eyed fellow was indeed a sight to behold, teeth like broken glass and a pockmarked face.

Though none of which would be of concern to any passersby, Gregory's face hidden primarily by leagues of dripping hair, like seaweed on his head.

His unfortunate complexion further under mystery by the trenchcoat and gloves he'd bummed out of the trash, no one could know, they would hate him

There was no more certain a thing than that, if anyone knew what he was, he would be shunned.

An outcast among outcasts thrown in the fryer.

Taking a moment to regroup his wandering train of thought, Gregory reminded himself of his mission.

Buy the food, don't draw attention, get out, the less than smooth to say mantra kept him calm

Somewhat at least, his nerves were still on high alert, scoping out for predators between the kelp.

Gah, between the grass, this was land, no ocean talk Gregory, he scolded himself in a harsh tone.

If he wanted to fit in he'd have to nix all of that fishy lingo, this world was harsh to outsiders.

He knew that for a fact, having nearly never interacted with a human, their eyes seemed to gouge chunks from his flesh with a hooked stare.

Gregory never wanted anyone to look at his body ever again, he sometimes liked to imagine he was simply a floating head, gliding across the earth.

The idea of someone, looking, seeing, or even.. touching him, it made his scaly flesh prickle Iridly.

Everywhere he felt the hands, imprinted on his skin like a tattoo, no matter how hard he scrubbed there they laid, as if they'd been branded onto him.

He hated to think about, them, the men, strong hands and scary words, that was why I must remain here, thought Gregory, safe from them.

This spiral of despair was shockingly interrupted by a high pitched *SQUEAK* right beside him.

It seemed a mouse had made its home here in these halls just as Gregory, he envied the squeaker

Small enough to go unnoticed, skilled enough to carve out its own living, this rodent held a score in a power of ten above Gregory's

The mouse however, didn't hear his thoughts, as one can expect, and likely wouldn't have gotten it if it could, it simply squeaked again.

Pointing right towards its stomach in an animated fashion, "you, want cheese..?" The fish boy asked, croaking with unused vocal cords readjusting to speech, it wasn't often he spoke aloud.

Instead of suddenly being able to speak perfect English, it just continued pointedly gesturing.

Gregory sighed, the exhale making his gills flutter and squelch wetly, another gross difference.

Not having any cheese, he wished he could explain that to his new little friend, "I'm sorry.. I don't.."

This equally hungry fellow reminded Gregory of his original goal, that's right, go to the resturant.

Sorry, he thought, striding beloft the rat, leaving it looking mildly dejected to go back into the wall.

Gregory took care to avoid the scattered rocks and loose nails across the floor, certainly a downside of this area being so semi permanently deserted..

The halls of these steam tunnels were littered with old rusted doors, most of them being locked.

He walked past several, bellowing the hum of large machinery or hushed words between people.

A door to the freezer, whirring audible blizzards, and in contrast the low fwoom of a boiler hissed.

A padlocked door, said lock rattling in an alarming manner, the growls of some awful beast behest it.

A door with the label scratched off, hearing loud, strange zaps, and mechanical raggling, he swiftly moved past, finally reaching his desired entrance.

Mentally readying himself, stood before the door with an unhelpful skull and crossbones stenciled across the top, nearly intimidating him to leave.

But no, this was where he'd get what would likely be his only meal that day, his stomach growled.

A low and rumbling refrain against his own fears.

Part 1 of END, Part 2 Coming Soon, The Fishy Adventures Of Gregory Chisholm Will Continue!

#original character #original writing #shadows over loathing #west of loathing #sol #wol #writing #oc character #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writer #story #shadows over loathing oc #sol oc #short story #scary #fish

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onyxisnotuniqueenough · 1 year

Text

About Karen Page

so. i know this weird little argument should've ended long ago. but i'm in the process of rewatching the defenders saga and i'm actually in the middle of s2 of Daredevil....AND YES I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE TUMBLR POST ABOUT KAREN OK

but first, i wanted to give a little extra info or context or whatever i'm supposed to call it

here are the links to the posts relevant here

0 (me)

1 (me)

2 (me)

3 (nyxxhecate)

4 (nyxxhecate)

5 (nyxxhecate)

also the comments count too. look at whatever nyxxhecate commented on these posts

I unblocked nyxxhecate since i first blocked them, out of honest curiosity. right before i'm writing this actually.

I just wanted to see if they've commented anything else since then or if they made posts on their own about their opinions on Daredevil. Three of the links above are their posts, and idk if tumblr notifies for that but I still don't want to @ them.

I'm not interested in debating with them or starting another argument, and couldn't care less of they see this or not. I am not writing to this person like i was in my other posts, nor am i answering to their comments or whatever points they brought up in their reblogs.

there is ONE thing they said that rang with me though :

"knock your fucking self off that pedestal you're trying to put yourself in. Imagine the level of delusion one must have to think they're intelligent because, *checks notes* they typed in word salad to defend why they like two atrocious TV characters LMAO. You're on Tumblr not the fucking Congress, get a grip IJBOL"

I'm gonna be honest here - I DO enjoy typing word salad. I enjoy writing. I enjoy writing essays. I enjoy trying to use exact words to say what i want to say.

English is my second language, technically, yes, but I have been speaking it for more then ten years, and i'm doing my best to improve because i'm hoping that i'll get to work in english some day. My accent isn't perfect but I'm confident in my spelling and writing and everything.

I've been raised in french, I've done primary, middle and high school in french, and my uni is also french-speaking. I write everything in french all of the time. But since i've taught myself to think in english first sometimes, and none of my irl friends or family like Daredevil or Breaking Bad or anything i like in general - I don't get many chances to argue irl.

So yes, I use Tumblr as an outlet to type as much as I want, even if that means talking to a wall, but at least i get to talk about (IN LENGTH) things i love - and open some kind of discussion (although i'm not blind, i know that rarely anyone replies or anything, but that will hopefully come in time)

---

Now that that's said - let's get to the actual main course :

Karen Page !

As I've said in the beginning i am in the middle of s2 of DD, just finished EP6 : Regrets Only to be precise. I've already got a few things to say.

but first : I'll only talk about her in S1 and S2 and Defenders - because believe it or not, as much as I love Daredevil I AM SORRY but I HAVE NOT YET WATCHED SEASON 3. i miraculously haven't been spoiled about much, all I know is that Matt wakes up in church after his "death", boxes there, there's some kind of detective that seems important and he fights with Fisk again in his black outfit. THAT'S ALL I KNOW AND LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY.

So.

what do i, Onyx LastName, think of Karen's character.

On my first watch, I didn't like her at all.

Not because she was a "hypocrite"or whatever everyone else is spewing but because I had this huge crush on Matt and was jealous of her.

I'll admit, that's all that my judgement was based on. I thought I didn't like her chemistry with Matt, the way that it made the Nelson-Murdock-Page trio awkward, and how it left Foggy on the sidelines. I like him. I related to him. He was suffering of Sidekick syndrome, with Matt getting powers, getting to be the hero, getting all the ladies, etc etc. I spent my whole life and I'm still actually spending it feeling like I have Sidekick Syndrome myself. If you also feel like you got that you'll know what I mean.

"So Foggy has a special place in your heart. Boohoo. what does that have to do with anything?" You've read this far and you're JUST NOW running out of patience??

Since that initial watch, and after watching countless videos, reading countless fanfics, and honestly my taste just having changed - my perspective of Matt shifted, and so has my opinion on Karen.

I don't think i'm blinded by my attration to Matt anymore, even if he still holds a special place in my heart.

But unfortunately, I still have some issues with Karen's character.

I don't think I've ever really talked about it on here, except maybe with a friend or two in dms, but it's true that I don't really like her. Or how was she was written. This post is not structured or outlined, it's a stream of consciousness...so let's hope i get the answer to that by the end of it.

Now i'm nowhere near agreeing with ANY of what nyxxhecate said, but knowing I wanted to have a definitive opinion of her and make a post about it maybe, I've been looking at her closely during my rewatch - and there are some things I've missed.

So, first, to correct my previous post,

Why is Karen attracted to Matt in the first place?

I made my post about the Foggy and Karen thing before rewatching and refreshing my memory of the ACTUAL EVENTS. I just wrote that in passing after seeing a reaction of that "date" at Mrs. Cardenas.

Here is an updated take :

I think Karen fell for Matt when she first lied to him about keeping the Union Allied file.

You just lived through an intense traumatic experience. You find yourself with a bloody knife in your hand next to the lifeless body of someone you knew and found really nice. Someone tries to hang you in your prison cell at night to make it look like you killed yourself, and no one believes you.

until Nelson and Murdock come in. You're not sure about their intentions at first but they seem kind and most importantly they believe you and are willing to defend you. They're giving you a chance. Not good samaritans but literal guardian angels.

While Foggy is hesitant at first, Matt "I believe you Miss Page"s you right off the bat. (everything's a verb if you squint hard enough)

Matt invites you to his place and assures he'll protect you.

Matt opens up about his blindness and is willing to be vulnerable in front of you.

Matt gives up his silk-sheeted bed to make sure you're comfortable.

All of that when you're vulnerable and Matt is tall and handsome and has this charming smile and ugh. How not to fall for him ? I mean you're wearing his shirt and the beautiful pink lighting in his living room is making everything all romantic. Also if you've noticed the billboard outside his window is for "Xining Airways", company that uses CHERRY BLOSSOM imagery in their advertisement. COME ON.

But then you get to talking about the case again - I mean the reason you're here in the first place - and he asks you an important question.

Did you keep the file?

You lie and say you didn't, feeling your heart beating faster. You're not even sure that sounded convincing at all. And you see the cogs turning in his head, and even if he let you off the hook, you know deep down he didn't really believe it. May seem like me extrapolating here but it IS obvious that he doesn't believe her. But as long as he's not pushing further, that doesn't change much for Karen anyway.

I think that his expression reads that he's seeing right through her.

He believed her when no one else would the first time - but seemingly for no reason.

Matt just KNEW you didn't do it. He saw right through you. You almost feel like he knows what you're thinking.

And again, that kind of connection that you're feeling, in an especially emotionally vulnerable state - plants the seed for love. EASILY.

Any of their awkward flirting before they started dating i am willing to close an eye on.

AFTER THAT? that's just cruel to Foggy and unprofessional and weird in general. Why the HELL are you holding hands in front of whatever DA or cop you just talked to to walk in Frank's hospital room?

Why are you kissing in front of Foggy???

I can understand the thing at Josie's but when you're in the middle of dealing with an extremely important case and Elektra's driver shows up out of nowhere and you're abandoning your partner in a situation that you created and ugh. ew. It's all so weird.

I don't like Karen and Matt dating any more than I did on the first watch but I don't see it through jealousy-tinted glasses and more for what it actually is. misplaced.

Season 2 is the least favorite Daredevil season of anyone I've ever met or talked to and I completely agree that the structure is strange, even if I get what they wanted to do with juxtaposing

Daredevil/Elektra/Hand stuff

and

Matt/Karen/Punisher stuff.

This juxtaposition, while I kinda get the vision, just isn't working. The Hand is the worst plot I have ever seen in my life, and that applies to Defenders too, so that's one reason, but the fact that they tried to mix everything together at once just felt weird pacing wise - and they lost characterization on Matt, Foggy and Elektra's part. All three and their relationships with each other were written weird.

...

Let's get back on track.

Season 2, Karen spends her time investigating and defending Frank.

And that is what she's most criticized for : "protecting and defending frank's actions" and "condemning Matt's lying when she's lying herself."

Frank Castle is a difficult subject.

He is the subject of many debates, wether in the fandom or in the actual show. Is he a hero? Are his murders justifiable? Are Matt and Frank two sides of the same coin? What message is he sending to the audience? How should he be interpreted by his audience? Is Frank redeemable? Is he a glorification or a fetishization of everything that's wrong with the USA? and so on so forth bla bla bla

What matters HERE is what KAREN thinks of him.

Karen is a very determined and ambitious journalist, to say the least. She'd do anything to get to the truth. These qualities that seem very noble at first are also her main flaws. By putting the story first, she throws caution the wind and that very recklessness of hers is what kills Ben Urich, and what compels her to defend Frank so adamantly.

But there's a facet of her personality that I haven't seen being delved into or explained anywhere - her sometimes misplaced but very much there Savior complex, or White Knight syndrome.

She empathized and honestly liked Mrs. Cardenas (a cute old little guatemalan christian lady, who had no one). She wanted to help her. She felt that she was treated unfairly, that all the tenants were treated unfairly, and that was what prompted her to want to take down Fisk. Fisk was using, manipulating and stealing blind people who were already unfortunate. Fisk is lying to the public and hiding his true criminal activities. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to bring him down, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and provoking the death of Ben Urich.

Now let's look at the situation in S2.

She empathizes with Frank Castle (a man who's entire family got killed and now has no one). He has some kind of moral code that seems noble to her. She feels that he's being treated unfairly, that no one is taking his dead family into account, or what he's already done as a soldier. Frank is unapologetically admitting and sticking by his actions and his code. He doesn't want to hurt anyone that doesn't deserve, in his eyes, to die. Reyes is not upholding her side of the wit-pro deal (She used Grotto as bait, someone Karen already empathized with). Reyes was purposefully trying to get Frank the death penalty for her own gain (she had her eye on the mayor's office) and is hiding a shady past. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to prove that Frank's not all bad and to expose Reyes, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and overstepping boundaries when she's not a lawyer, and frankly doesn't deserve to get Ben's desk or his job.

When you finally pin down her behavioral pattern and why she acts how she acts, it's easier to understand.

So yes, I understand Karen. (In my opinion at least.)

What makes her who she is is that savior complex of hers, that MORAL code of her own. How she sees herself and what she thinks is her PURPOSE is how she justifies her mistakes, or the risks she takes, to herself. As means to an end.

She doesn't seem to doubt herself or question herself enough to see that her behavior, even if her goal is noble, is not always right.

Her believing that she acts as a savior to others is precisely what makes her a little self-centered.

And, because Matt has this problem too sometimes, she is an interesting character to compare to him.

But now, see, as i've spend a lot of time writing this, my own cogs are turning. I think I've identified what my problem is with Karen.

It's how she's framed. by the writers. by the show.

We see Matt's guilt but don't see hers.

We see his internal turmoil but not hers.

We see him doubt himself all the time and seek for answers in his faith or in people but not her.

If we got to see Karen doubt herself more, show more of her guilt over her killing Wesley, her causing the death of Urich, that would make for a much more likeable and relateable character.

When she argues with Matt or something, what she says makes it seems "hypocritical" of her not to hold herself to the same moral standards than she does others.

But I don't think seeing the flaws in others means you don't see your own. Again, if we had seen Karen questioning and doubting herself, and feeling guilty for what she's done (and not just crying or having ONE nightmare about it. Her trauma should have been more explored in general. from the beginning.) then we'd see that she is self-aware and recognizes her own mistakes and her continuing to feed into her savior complex is her way of finding closure. or trying to save herself from being completely consumed by her own guilt.

So yes. I don't like Karen, not because I don't like her, but be..cause...I wish... we'd seen more of her? or at least framed her differently?

I didn't think I'd reach that conclusion. I thought I'd actually find a real reason not to like HER.

But that's maïeutique for you i guess. or to put it differently, rubber-ducking, right? Isn't that programming lingo?

Also maybe i'm not completely over how Matt and Karen third-wheeled Foggy. or how Matt doesn't really fit with any of his on-screen love interests and how I wish they hadn't dated. but that's a story for another day.

Thank you for reading this far, if you're still here! Tell me your thoughts and opinions on Karen or my own way of explaining it :)

#daredevil #karen page #matt murdock #foggy nelson #netflix daredevil #marvel netflix

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hurlumerlu · 5 months

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As usual, badly put together thoughts on Playboyy episode 5 under the cut :

My main thought on this episode is how heavy on melancholy it was. It was a lot less funny and dramatic and a lot more, idk. contemplative ? or at least that's how it felt to me. Also a lot more unsettling, we are definitely not playing anymore. Funnily enough, this gravitas is pretty close to what I hoped for when I started Playboyy, but now that I actually have it I feel wrongfooted and unsure. Which is great ! I've always enjoyed shows where I didn't know what I was in for before starting an episode (perhaps a little too much) and I appreciate the unease.

Related to the above : I like that the Nuth & Phop scenes are packed with tender moments (the piggyback, the very begining of the shaving scene, "haha i'm halucinating him :D/i'm right there", waking up in each other's arms) amidst the constant current of dread. It helps lay out the reasons Phop comes back (drugs aside) on an emotional level, and it also makes the peaks in tension that much stronger because you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and because it could be sweet ! it could. it's good suspense.

Honnestly the fact that Nuth has been so strongly established as suspect n°1 when we're only in episode 5 makes me really doubt that he is, for lack of a better term, our Big Bad. Which does not mean I think of him as an innocent little sweetheart (don't pay people in drugs is imo a pretty low bar and he couldn't even clear that) and he absolutely had something to do with Nant's troubles, but I feel like there is something else at play. Could be way off though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Unpopular opinion probably but I worry for him too. He does not seem well ! He also doesn't seem to have much of a support system ! If this all ends badly - if it already has, for Nant, because of him - I don't think I'll be able to shake off the feeling that it all could have been avoided.

Please don't kill Phop please don't kill Phop please don't kill Phop

Other characters I would like to not see die are Nont (very much so), Soong, and Jump. (and Puen because I play favourites) the others are fair game for me not because I don't like them but because I can see multiple narrative payoffs for their death. It all depend on how it's done. (honnestly I can also imagine narrative payoffs for Nont's death, and worse endings for him than death, but. uh. I'll be gutted for sure)

Since I mentioned Soong - I told myself I would not gripe about this but I am absolutely going to gripe about this : how did Nont convince him to drink/take drugs with him ? Did he think this was Nant ? it was all very weird and I did not get how we got for point a to point c. You could argue it doesn't matter but it's the kind of things that matters to me ! Anyway, moving on :

Soong keeps having a bad time. And I'm sure many would say he deserved it, but as I'm not generally interested in characters getting their just deserts (unless it's funny) I'm still mostly feeling kinda sad for the guy, in an awkward sort of way

I'm sorry I said Nont was not good at threatening people. turns out he's just not good at threatening people with sharp objects. He's disturbingly into it when it comes to fire though ! (but also Nont baby you're gonna burn your thumb)

Zouey & Teena were very cute. So where Zouey & First trying to investigate Soong.

You know who isn't cute ? Porche. I want to sit that boy down and have a loooong talk with him. It probably wouldn't help but someone has to try.

Anyway we knew that already but the fact that none of these rich little fuckers where willing to help Nant out when they could easily have pooled their money... with friends like these, honnestly.

This may have been a wake up call for Captain ? wait and see I guess.

Captain and Puen being on good enough terms that Captain told him everything about the fake sex tape is interesting. I'm still really interested in their dynamic !

Look. Puen was so charming (and charmed) all episode and Aob was so prickly, it's hard for me not to get into the relationship that is dangled in front of us (and I didn't try). However everytime I watch this series I think of Love Conquers All (2006) and its ironic-ass title, so I look at every single relationships promised by this show with doubt and mistrust

SPEAKING OF WHICH : lmao @Prom and his little evil smile. control your face, sir.

But I still believe he didn't know why Nant was missing, so I wonder what he was smiling evily for. Plenty of options to chose from though ! Maybe he just wants to get back at the ex-playboyys for asserting their independence, which would be bad enough, but I doubt that's all. Oh well, we'll see !

Last thought : I could have sworn I saw the bottom of a brazilian flag in one of Nuth and Poph scene but I can't find it again :(

#playboyy #playboyy spoilers #playboyy ep5

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findingblissinignorance · 1 year

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tell me you're gonna be alright (Shakarian)

Happy holidays to @wasdplz for @masseffectholidaycheer!

Garrus and Shep have such a great relationship, I hope I was able to do it justice and I hope you enjoy!

It is also here on Ao3

It was funny the way the universe worked. One moment Garrus was preparing for a suicide mission and then his commander and best friend was suddenly suggesting something he had never seriously considered. Not that he hadn’t thought about it at all, but she was not only technically his superior, but also of an entirely different species. Anytime the thought may have crossed his mind, usually after a few drinks if he was honest, it had always been quickly dismissed. That was until she was there asking to test his reach and her flexibility. He was a little awkward and nervous about it, but he respected her and it would actually be nice to have some of the tension relieved, so why the hell not?

Fast forward a bit and now he can’t imagine life without her. While they had been apart, he tried to push the thought of her to the back of her mind with little success. When he scanned through Alliance news, he told himself it was to keep an eye out for any sign of the incoming invasion, he definitely wasn’t just looking for anything that mentioned Commander Shepard. However, the moment he saw her again on Menae, he knew he was done for. His homeworld was burning behind him and the galaxy was beginning to fall apart around them, but he didn’t want to let go of her hand. It didn’t take him long after that to realize just how deeply in love with her he was. It was a relief when he found out she loved him too. Maybe they didn’t have the most romantic of beginnings, but Garrus wouldn’t change it for the galaxy.

Garrus had been laying there quietly, watching Shepard as she slept, a rare occurrence these days. She had almost seemed peaceful, but he had noticed the sharp intake of breath. Another bad dream, Garrus had no doubt. Cyan had been trying to hide that from him, trying to ease his worry, but he knew her too well at this point. The dreams were becoming more and more frequent as this war went on and he was concerned.

“I can feel you staring at me.” A single blue eye opened, staring up at Garrus now. There was a slight twitch of his mandibles. “What are you thinking about?”

He hummed in thought a moment before answering. “How in that last fight I outnumbered your kills 3 to 1.”

“What!?” Both of her eyes shot open now, but her look was quick to change from surprise to a glare once her tired brain had the chance to catch up. “Oh ha ha. In no universe would that ever fucking happen.” Cyan let out a groan as she stretched her arms out above her, attempting to rid herself of some of the stiffness without moving out of his arms. “I can’t believe you’d waste your time on fantasies like that.”

“Oh trust me, I waste plenty of my time on fantasies involving you, but, uh, none of them are quite like that.” The both of them laughed as she relaxed against his chest once again. He was sure that he couldn’t be very comfortable, at least by human standards, but she never complained about it. They fell into silence for a moment and he was just thinking she had maybe fallen back asleep when she spoke again.

“What were you really thinking about?” Her tone was surprisingly serious and it made him hesitate. That was one thing he had in common with her. They both were so used to keeping things close to their chests. Around each other they did open up a little more, but he knew there was a lot she still kept hidden and he still always had the urge to just laugh everything off with a bad joke. She had pulled back to look at him now, a few strands of her dark hair falling over her face.

“I was thinking…” Garrus carefully tucked her hair back behind her ear, buying himself a moment to think. He was never good at this kind of thing, but he wanted to at least try. “I know we kind of stumbled our way to where we are now and I know it is difficult to find time to be happy between the fighting and the worry and everything, but I’m glad I have you. There is a lot that has gone wrong and there is a lot that I know that I’ve done wrong, but this? You? It’s the one thing I know is right in this whole galaxy. Without a doubt. Getting to be in love with you makes this all a hell of a lot easier.” His finger gently brushed along the edge of the scar that went across her face as she smiled at him. “I'm worried about you though. I can only imagine the stress you have been under and losi-”

"I know." Cyan interrupted him softly. Her smile had faded and he could see the turmoil of everything she was feeling. Anger, fear, despair. She allowed him a small glimpse of it all before taking a moment to rein it back in. "I want to talk to you, I do, but I can't. Not until we get through this. I'm afraid if I start breaking I won't stop until there's nothing but a million pieces of me shattered across the floor. We don't have time to put that back together right now." She put a hand on his chest. "After, I promise. If we get through this, I will gladly tell you everything. Nothing held back. You have my word."

His hand covered hers. "Good and when we get there I will gladly help put you back together."

“When? I thought you always liked to expect the worst? Something about being pleasantly surprised?”

“Let’s just say I found something that made me want to be more hopeful.” Garrus gave her hand a squeeze. Before either of them could say anymore, they were interrupted by the chirping sound of the intercom followed by the voice of Javik.

“Commander, it is time. We’ve reached the Citadel and I would like to accompany you to the station.”

“Of course, not a problem, Javik. I’ll be down in a moment.” She replied with a heavy sigh. Only Commander Shepard could seem completely unfazed about talking to a 50,000 year old Prothean. Garrus himself still had trouble wrapping his head around it, but he shouldn’t be surprised by her at this point. Shepard had a way of completely changing the galaxy while barely batting an eye. “I guess it’s back to it then.” Cyan moved to roll out of the bed. He was reluctant to let her go, but he knew now wasn’t the time to be selfish.

It didn’t take her long to get ready. The days of wearing a formal uniform had long since passed, even when going to meet with a member of the council, so she just threw on a set of crumpled fatigues. By the time she had smoothed down a few stray hairs and splashed a little water in her face, the seriousness had left her expression and there was no hint of the turmoil from before. Garrus was leaning against the wall near the door watching her. “Are you coming or staying on the Normandy?” She asked as she stopped in front of him.

“I think I’ll stay this time. I highly doubt that your Turian boyfriend is invited to your secret meeting with the Asari councilor and I can’t imagine this trip is going to take very long so I won’t be able to help the refugees much anyway.”

“You could always keep an eye on Javik.”

“As entertaining as I’m sure that would be, I’m not really in the mood to hear about how us primitives are going to be wiped out because we are so pathetic.” Garrus said, mimicking Javik’s tone as best he could. It wasn’t the best impression, but it made her laugh.

“That’s fair enough.” Cyan chuckled as she pressed up on her toes to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you when I get back then.” As she went to leave her quarters, Garrus followed and reached out to lightly grab her wrist before she reached the elevator. She stopped and looked at him. “Wha-” Before she could finish her question, he leaned in for a real kiss. “Hello there.”

“Hey.” Garrus stayed close, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. One last moment of sincerity. “I know you don’t want to talk about it right now, just… don’t forget I’m here to help however I can. You don’t have to shoulder it all.”

“I know. I’m fine.” She reached up to caress his cheek with a soft smile on her face. They stayed like that for just another moment longer, both of them stealing the seconds of intimacy before it was time to put the walls back up. “You know, there is one thing you can do for me.” Her smile turned into a smirk as she pulled away from him and he knew it was time to let it go for now. “When I get back, I would be very interested in hearing about those other fantasies you mentioned. What do you say?”

“I will be waiting right here for you so we can discuss those in incredible detail.”Garrus tilted his head and lowered his voice a little. “I might even show you a few things, just to make sure you understand.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Please someone throw me out of an airlock.” Both of them looked up quickly at the Prothean neither of them had seen in the elevator. Javik’s arms were crossed and Garrus would say he looked unimpressed, but he was pretty sure that was his default expression.

"Javik, what are you doing up here?" Cyan put some space between her and Garrus, even though their relationship was no secret at this point. Something about trying to keep some level of professionalism though they both crossed the line often enough. “I told you I'd be right down.”

"You were taking too long and now I see why.”

“Just how long have you been standing there?” Garrus asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Long enough.” Javik answered dryly.

“Okay, well I’m ready now, so let’s go.” Cyan cast Garrus an apologetic look as she joined Javik on the elevator. “We’ll talk later, Garrus.” There was a pause before she added. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” As the door closed, Garrus was sure he heard a muttered comment about primitives before he was standing there alone.

There was a time he had thought that he wouldn’t find love and he had been fine with that. There were more important things. Now here they were at what might be the end of everything and there was nothing more important to him than her. But the universe had to keep its sense of humor and so she was the one who had to be in the middle of all of this. Still, he would do everything in his power to get her through this. After all, there is no Vakarian without Shepard.

#holiday harbinger #mass effect #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #this one stressed me out lol #i hope i could capture their relationship right

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klausinamarink · 3 months

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Find the word tag game!

i’ve been tagged three times?! hell yeah! thanks @flowercrowngods @sidekick-hero and @penny00dreadful

Rules: search for 5 words in your wips and post them in the sentence(s) they appear, then tag other people with 5 new words.

my words: 1) fresh, despise, flat, warning and suppress (good ones, Sam!) 2) heavy, heart, breathe, chest, hurt (lovin’ the angst night flavour, Dio) 3) breath, hair, smile, fingers, blue, love (fantastic choices, Sandy)

your words: pastel, tooth, confidence, penetrate, interest

tagging next (no pressure!): @ghosttotheparty @thefreakandthehair @theheadlessphilosopher @momotonescreaming

fresh

He froze. The entire back of his hand was coated with fresh blood. Then he realized that his nose was still dripping, some red drops splattering on his new pants.

despise (couldn’t find it anywhere)

flat (Robin being taken to Russia)

“Steve?” She whispers. Or tries to. Her throat is so dry that her voice doesn’t even come out. She squints through the bag, trying to dissect the silhouettes. None of them have large fluffy hair that seemingly defines physics (seriously, Robin had seen Steve’s hair flattened after the Russians threw him on the ground and it had gone back up in a poof some minutes later despite the blood and sweat drenching the locks) or hands on their hips. They’re all too broad and tall and short-haired to even resemble him.

warning (from The Locked Tomb au!)

“Your posture’s off. Too stiff. You held your sword like it’s an axe at the start.” Without warning, Wayne pulled his rapier back and smacked the end of the pommel at Steven’s sternum. Eddie felt the pain secondhand as Steven almost kneeled over, only for Wayne to pull him upright again. He lightly tapped the blade on the Third cav’s shoulder and said, “Point to the Ninth.”

suppress (don’t have it anywhere, sorry!)

heavy (from my Wendigoon does a video about Hawkins fic)

Secondly, while Eddie Munson was twenty years old and in his third senior year at the time, he wasn’t particularly strong. Like yeah, some students said he could push away the jocks easily and his friends had mentioned he could lift heavy amps and boxes, but he wasn’t that strong. Because to even cleanly break a bone right in the middle on your own requires an insane amount of arm muscle. Let alone, all four limbs, each one broken in three or four different places.

heart (second part to Robin in Russia au)

The tugging continues. This time, Steve is pulled back, fingers slipping away from the photo. His heart shoots up in a panic and he grabs the photo again. Someone is screaming NO, NO, NO, each word making a noose around his parched throat. Then Robin’s ripped into shreds, some of the pieces stuck to his shaking, sweaty hands. Her smile is gone.

breathe (Robin in Russia)

Robin breathes slowly, careful not to alert the Russians. The roaring grows less intense. Then the pressure returns to her ears as the ground starts to tilt downward, less threatening than earlier. She yawns silently again and her ears pop.

chest (from my s3 rewrite)

Annabelle barely had time to turn around when something plunged deep into the front of her chest and neck.

hurt (for the next chapter of Eddie and Will in the Upside Down au)

Or at least, he makes an intimation of a laugh. It sounds just as broken as he feels. His throat is clogged up and rusty, the muscles scraping at each other like nails on chalkboard. Every part of his body hurts.

hair | smile (including both since they’re in the same paragraph)

“If your cavalier is that much of an embarrassment, then would it not be the same for you, Princess?” Eddie barely held down the smug smile crossing his lips as she stiffened. “It would be a shame if, on your first real duel outside of your House, you turn out to be a disappointment of a necromantic heir who can’t even flick a bone speck on my hair. I cannot imagine the scandal.”

fingers | breath (doing the same as above)

Then inexplicably, Steve bowed his head and pressed his lips against Eddie’s hand. It wasn’t on the bones of his knuckles or the back of his hand or even his fingers. Instead, he kissed on the space between the first and second knuckle. It was the most ordinary and random place to kiss one’s hand, but yet it took Eddie’s breath away.

blue

Blue eyes. Freckles. Wavy dirty blonde hair. Smiling.

love (the Eddie and Will in UD next part)

He wants his uncle Wayne to scoop him up in his arms and hold him tight, murmuring gruff words that are always full of safety and love.

#tagging games

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annasghosts · 1 year

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The Golden Couple: part 3

Summary: "We are in love." Wait, what? Does that sound like something Lily Evans would say at the beginning of Sixth Year?

Part 1 was written for @jilymicrofics with the prompts: Rumour and New.

Part 3 on Ao3, read from the beginning

James was trying to flatten his hair, his gaze stubbornly focused on his reflection.

“You are fighting a losing battle, dear.”

He sighed, lowering his hands, inwardly agreeing with the singsong voice coming from the mirror. He’d never cared much for how untidy his hair were, he’d even liked it, but since Lily Evans had told him he reminded her of a Murtlap he couldn’t unsee it.

He shouldn’t care about her opinion of him. Yes, not so long ago he’d thought he fancied her and yes, he still found her fit and brilliant, but that was just an objective observation, it didn’t mean anything. The dressing down he’d received last term still stung and he wasn’t so daft as to pursue someone who thought he was a conceited bully. Well, not seriously at least. He enjoyed provoking her, the feel of her bright eyes on him a secret thrill he couldn’t resist, but he’d thought they would be back to normal by now. Snape was studiously avoiding her, but for some reason she still acted like she was his girlfriend, or some bizarre version of it, because he was pretty sure girlfriends didn’t usually drop volatile ingredients in their boyfriends’ cauldron. They’d had to start on their Amortentia for the fourth time that week and even Slughorn was starting to have doubts on their partnership.

But tomorrow he would be back home for the Christmas hols. No beautiful scheming redheads, just him, his parents and Sirius. This last thought improved his mood greatly and he went downstairs to join the end of the term party.

He was so engrossed in the debate about the latest match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw that he didn’t notice someone was behind him and, when he turned abruptly, he bumped into them. He reached out to steady them on reflex, only to snatch his hands back when he realized he was holding none other than Evans. He gave her a quick apology, but before he could make his escape Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders and stopped him, a shit eating grin on his face. “Not so fast, Prongs.” He pointed at something above Lily’s head and James’ eyes widened as he spotted it too. Mistletoe.

He opened his mouth, his brain frantically searching for an excuse, thinking that he preferred to keep all his limbs rather than attempt to kiss her when he noticed the way she was looking at him, both fierce and stubborn. “Evans?”

She didn’t answer, but reached for his face, her hands slightly clammy, and he let her drag him towards her, her eyes trapping him. He was drowning in a sea of green and his eyes closed as she pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t the soft first kiss he’d once dreamt of sharing with her, but as he savoured the softness of her lips he felt silly for his little fantasy because nothing he’d imagined could live up to the real thing.

His hand reached for her waist, finally getting over his shock, but Lily stepped back, a blush on her freckled cheeks the only sign she wasn’t completely unaffected by what had just happened between them. The crowd was whistling and cheering around them, but James only had eyes for her, reality hitting him with the force of a bludger. Lily was rolling her eyes at her friends, but when she turned back towards him and raised her eyebrows he still had no words and could only stare, his stomach sinking: he was in love with Lily Evans.

#jily #jple #jily fic #jily microfic #james potter #lily evans

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morallygreyvillain · 1 year

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TOTCF FIC (WIP) [Cale × Choi Han]

"Slacker Life. Right?"

———————————

- Chapter 1 [Beta V.] -

×××××(Its a little saucy)×××××

Finally, The white start defeated, the Demon God sealed and everyone is safe and back home. It was finally time to begin that peaceful life Cale had always dreamed of.

Just the final step left... finally address those deep, scorching feelings that have been bubbling below the surface.

Cale has taken advantage of his patience for far too long...

Despite everyone else already being aware, constantly sharing knowing looks and sighs.

Thinking that he was blind to them. Cale doesn't regret waiting and holding back until this moment. Now that all the big obstacles were out of his way.

He's proud that he was able to keep his true feelings a secret (tho perhaps some had figured him out). He could imagine how much more teasing he would've endured had he not been so inscrutable (so he thinks).

He already got enough of it when his friends and family thought he was oblivious to it. Mostly noticeably from the kids who weren't so discreet.

On, being more mature wasnt so blatant about calling him a "foolish human"; but Cale was tired of the way she would stare and him, sigh, and then shake her head as if to say

"Ah, he's so poor/pitiful that he fell in love with this fool who doesn't know anything".

It's not like the other person made their feelings blatantly obvious. But for those close to him, his real feelings were as clear as glass. And once you did, you couldn't unsee it.

His devotion, his admiration, his frustration, and his complete trust that Cale has no idea how he's earned. His family and friends must have truly thought him to be an unfathomable idiot to have not noticed. (Not even mentioning how terrible of an actor he is)

But...

he thought it better to be seen as a dullard than as cruel...

And he did feel cruel.

Because despite how palpable those feelings were and how clear it was to each other, more so than anybody else...

no matter how much they were reciprocated...

they couldn't be acknowledged.

At least not in the usual sense...

Locking eyes, understanding each other without needing words, casual touches, praises, admonishments, and countless times depending on one another, protecting each other, sacrificing themselves for the other.

That ineffable feeling was always present, never absent.

Never unseen or unheard in even the most mundane of expressions or words...

Yes, he felt cruel, he felt guilty.

He was the one forcing them to hold back. There were too many risks, his attention was too divided; there wasn't enough time.

There was too much at stake.

Cale was at fault.

Those weren't valid reasons, none of that mattered in the face of each other.

all that was just excuses, external issues that distracted from the real reason inside himself...

Fear.

Cale was simply afraid,

afraid that the world would take from him again.

Constantly making excuses to play oblivious.

"It's simply a whim, a cliche, he's just confusing his sense of duty, it's just because I'm the closest thing to his home, it filial"

"Because he feels independent to me, if not, why would he... I'm trash? He could do so much better, he's the protagonist.

"I don't deserve it..."

But above all that, Cale was greedy and not even his cowardice and pessimism could win over that. His avarice grew and now he not only wanted his peaceful life...he wanted to have him as well...

No, his peaceful life wouldn't be complete without him

So he planned and schemed and stole, blowing up every physical obstacle that was in his way,

their way...

Cale would flip the whole world upside-down if he had to.

And they were always there.

Patiently waiting and never far from his side but never taking that step over their boundary. Just waiting...

Knowing him he probably never expected to stop waiting, never daring to hope for anything more, content with what he had.

What they had.

But it's not enough to satiate the darkness inside him. Cale knew deep down they weren't as pure as originally thought. There was the voracity of a beast somewhere locked away, shackled by his intense devotion.

Holding back his true feelings, his greed, his...

Desire~

An insatiable feeling that made what they held towards each other distinct, unmistakable. The possessiveness, the jealousy...

The lust

It was scorching him

That instinct, that desire was the only thing they pretended not to see,

or feel.

They had to. Once experienced, it couldn't be swayed away by reason or excuses. Cale truly had to acknowledge what this "affection" was at that moment and that it was more than simply...affection.

Ravenous eyes, causal contact that seemed to last just too long because he didn't want to let go. How was Cale supposed to not notice all these things...

Or how they made him feel.

Even before when he was Roksu he had never experienced that type of desire, always far more concerned with surviving. Even being surrounded by several unparalleled beauties after transmigrating he hadn't felt... attracted to them in that way. Even with his beguiling appearance, the attention it got was appreciated but never reciprocated.

At least until now...

His words were always laced with intention and actions designed to distract him. He began to linger in touches of his own. Cale was better at masking it than he was. Those around them always catch his passionate stares, but not Cale's.

Cale was much more subtle with his...

appreciation...

His usual attitude and aloofness made him harder to read in general. But though friends and family had seen through his" uncaring" exterior, they hadn't caught on when he'd admire the curves or took the opportunity to feel his muscles or appreciate his handsome face.

When Cale would tilt his head ever so slightly, shifting his hips or loosen his clothes deliberately because he knew he was being intensely watched.

Sure it made him feel bad, knowing what he was doing to him, and how others would pity and tease him after. Thinking Cale was oblivious to his effect on him.

But it felt so~ much better to watch him squirm~ and bite to keep that beast-ial part of himself at bay...

But now...

All those things that had been in the way, shackling their inclinations, were blown away.

He was far too powerful for any sort of social propriety to affect him (not to say that it ever had).

So finally he would claim the final piece needed for his leisurely life...

"No need to delay this anymore..."

_________________________________________

Ok this is the draft of the first chapter

Link for info post HERE

I haven't finished the first Season yet [I got to the way to the part where Alberu is a Lion (I felt that was the least spoiler detail) > its also been over a year since I binge read the series so I'm a little foggy on certain details so if I've left some characters out or missed some stuff thats why but I'd appreciate it if no one spoiled anything for me!!!!

Anyway since I'm posting them all at once I'll attack the next chapter's draft HERE!

***Chapter 2 Beta link***

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