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dramallamas · 5 months

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Rewatching Beyond Evil and I’m taking (somewhat) unserious notes! Enjoy my brain worms.

Episode 1 || Next Episode

Ooooo dead body

Mad to think that when I first saw Jihoon’s actor he was playing a bully. This is a complete 180 and he does both roles well.

Intense middle aged running with intense music

(Spongebob style) Flashback~

Ah a church. You will never catch me there

The song they’re singing is oddly fitting to the theme of the show sans the whole God thing

We don’t stan Dongsik slander in this household.

Lee Dohyun <3

The signs in this flashback. The shot of the guitar pick, Kang Jinmuk being seen a lot but in the background, Bang Juseon being rude to Dongsik, Dongsik telling Yuyeon to leave at night (aka he had “motive”) etc

Lee twins crumbs I love it.

The cold filter when Dongsiks mum finds yuyeons fingertips nice touch

The title being “(to) Appear" mwah nice

Love the shots of how everything is “worse”when we transition to Dongsik now

Oct 11 2020 remember that me

HERE HE IS ITS JUWON

Dongsik saying stop in english <3

Pls the dramatic slow mo 🤣

Dongsik is a true justice/law upholder. Never letting things slide if its wrong. He and juwon are alike in that sense.

“Many a mickle makes a muckle” netflix what does that mean???? Like i get it but ive never heard that saying in my life

Everyone turns to see Juwon par Dongsik… that is until he speaks.

Juwon judging people and things right off the bat. Bro is not amused.

Technically Juwon is higher rank than Dongsik because Dongsik is assistant inspector and Juwon is flat out inspector

Dongsik immediately knew something was up as soon as he heard who Juwon’s dad is.

Juwon’s first impression of Dongsik is that he is intelligent and follows the law like rulebook when dealing with people (ofc he also thinks he is a murderer and should avoid someone like him and has already decided he hates his guts)

The tension starts as soon as Juwon drives past Dongsik. They immediately are making notes on each other

YOO JAEYI MY GIRLBOSS BELOVED. She is so much more clever than people give her credit for.

Jeongje and Dongsik being best friends…

OH JIHWA ^^

I love the manyang crew interactions.

“He’s not my type” not now… but he will be. you have no idea whats coming for you, Dongsik

Ew Hna Kihwan

I love these dinner scenes with Juwon. They so clearly reflect him and his attitude at the time as well as his relationship with his dad as well as how they change over the show.

아버지 and not 아빠 really emphasises the father-son relationship they have (or lack thereof)

Their first interaction and they already dont like each other.

Everyone sucking up to Juwon and trying to work with him and hes like yeah… no. Y’all are weird.

THEN GETS OFFENDED WHEN DONGSIK SAYS HE DOESNT WANNA WORK WITH HIM LMAOO

so hes like… two can play at this game bitch and calls Dongsik a nutjob.

Their reaction when Sangbae pairs them up is top tier

Juwons inner thoughts: “Day one… fuck my life”

Dongsik started teasing Juwon off the bat

They both have a super impressive memory wtf

“There are no secrets in this town. You are always being watched by someone.”

Dongsik nags Juwon about his aggressive driving and immediately drives aggressively because he can

Ah the reed field…

Juwon traipsing through the mud was me last week when I had to walk home (our area flooded)

We dont give the score for this show enough credit its so good like

“Why did you just stand there when a gust of wind was coming? You’ll learn once it slaps you in the face.” Metaphorrrrrrr

Juwon is already accusing Dongsik like 40mins into the ep like damn

Fresh out the shower dongsik is so yes.

Juwon in that white jumped is also a yes.

Mate respectfully I don’t think you got how relationships work. “People at my school or in my hometown want to be my friends by showing me unwanted kindness or attention. But at get-togethers they all talk about what I have or my connections. They gossip and laugh about it. In the end they all come to me for favours.” Dongsik is right in asking “Is it that simple?” Because it isn’t. (I will make a full post about this omg)

“What could you possibly have that makes you think you are the most important person in the universe?” THE MEANINGS OMG

Man gets so offended when people are like you have mysophobia then ends up roped into a get together.

Juwon trying to text a fake excuse to get out of the get together is so me because I have done that (its the anxiety for me)

Juwon is so awkward bless him.

“You’re supposed to stay glued to your partner all day, and know the colour of his underpants.” Dw Jihoon Juwon will learn ;)

Everyone clapping for Jinmuk and calling him the most important guy in manyang…

Juwon not liking his dad being brought up and Dongsik joking about it to diffuse the situation and also poke at Juwon

All important scenes happen when it rains.

Juwon quickly learns to not believe what dongsik says half the time XD

“I don’t want you to like me.” “It’s up to me to like someone or not.”

“Leave before you get caught.” What interesting phrasing Dongsik

Ah yes the Juwon and Hyeok brother dynamic. I find it interesting and think its an underrated Juwon relationship.

Hyeok trying be Han Kihwans son and Juwon is like “dont. Trust me.”

We mention Dongsiks wall of notes and stuff on the Yuyeon etc case but we dont talk about Juwons enough. Mf has two. Two fricken boards. One he makes in his closet (?) above his computer and the other next to his bed.

The! Score! Ugh im a lover

It takes a whole day to get to the reed field this time??? Cause he arrived in the morning (i assume) at the police station and then the sun is set by the time he gets there. I think he may have procrastinated bc of the mud or he actually arrived in the afternoon and the sun sets ridiculously early in late october?

Juwon getting jumpscared by Dongsik again XD

I love how this episode brings us full loop to the start of the episode but includes Juwon the second time to add fresh perspective and the aftermath.

Juwon’s step back and shaky hand is a give away that he knows her and Dongsik immediately picks up on it. Yet Dongsik tells Jihoon to leave knowing this must be a secret.

And Juwon doesn’t miss a beat when Dongsik says its a woman. They’re both one upping each other all the time

We give Juwon shit for constantly grabbing juwons collar/shirt but Dongsik did it first! (And it was hot because he smooths out Juwons shirt after) Juwon just copied and repeated.

And Dongsik quickly realises why Juwon is in Manyang and decides to just play with him and be a little shit.

Mate you guys are at the first ep and already in each other’s faces

Ok fin see you next episode ^^

#this is my fourth rewatch #and first time in 2024 #this helps me write the fic and remember what was what and how they felt #jwds #괴물 #kdrama #beyond evil #han juwon #lee dongsik #my ramblings

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 11 months

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Catnap II

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: More barista!Mikey and his kittens, because we can all use some fluff (and a nice makeout sesh) from time to time

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: You wake up from your nap with Mikey in an interesting way...

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff. More cats. More swearing. A li'l kissin'.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn

You wake up when something fluffy brushes past your nose. When you open your eyes, you see tufts of white fur. Your head, however, is still on Mike’s shoulder, and he’s holding you pretty close. So how did this cat – it’s Nova – manage to worm its way in between your bodies?

“Mike?” you say softly after moving your head away. He hums, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Is she okay? Are we crushing her?” Apparently, your question is enough for him to very slowly open one eye.

“Oh, she’s fine. She did this.” Mike doesn’t let you go, so he must mean what he says. “I’ll let you in on a little secret... Cats are actually liquid. And what they lack in brains and bones, they make up for in cuteness and chaos.” As if to prove a point, Nova turns around between you and rubs her face against Mike’s cheek, while trying her hardest to push you away from him.

“Hey baby,” he says as he softly kisses her little head before turning to you, looking embarrassed. Then, in a split second, the look disappears from his face, and is replaced by a very serious expression. He also lets go of you, much to your displeasure. “I’m just going to be upfront about this. I’ve had girls think I’m totally weird with my cats, because I love these idiots to bits. Girls, mind you, who were at the time also studying to be vets...”

“You’re a vet?” you interrupt. Of course you had a feeling that the coffee shop was a side job, but you never thought to ask whether he was in college or not...

“Few credits shy,” he answered, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion on his story. “That’s why I moved back home. I’m not enrolled for the first semester, so I had to give up my dorm. It’s okay, though, I get to intern with my mom... She runs a vet clinic from here. And picking up a few extra shifts hasn’t been the worst – Sy! Can you at least not be on my head?”

You look up, only to find that the orange giant apparently thought it was a good idea to park his fat butt on the side of Mike’s face. He really is ‘chunky as fuck’, and it doesn’t look comfortable at all. Not that it matters to him, because he stays right where he is. Soon, the four others join you on the bed, apparently for the sole purpose of screaming at Mike.

“What time is it?” Mike says as he reaches for his phone on the windowsill next to his bed. “Oh, my bad, you guys want food...” As soon as the word ‘food’ is out of his mouth, all cats dash for the door – except Nova, who still seems perfectly comfortable squished between you and Mikey. So much so, even, that she meows loudly in protest when he gets up.

“Can you pick her up and take her with you?” Mike asks, and you happily oblige. ‘Please cuddle the snuggly floof’ isn’t exactly a chore, or anything. Nova doesn’t object to being picked up and carried, either. She just contently purrs in your arms as you follow Mike through the house, to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, she is so cute!” you squeal when you sit down and she still won’t move, even though Mike is being harassed by the others as he tries to get them their food.

“She really is,” he says. “Ragdolls have exactly zero braincells. I’m fairly sure that one would die if she didn’t get enough attention.” He looks over his shoulder, and you catch a glimpse of a sweet smile as he briefly looks at you and the cat. It’s a good thing he turns back when he does, though.

“For fuck’s sake, guys! This isn’t going to go any faster if you…” Mike sighs loudly. “Sure, there’s at least thirty beds for you monsters scattered around the house, but by all means, Nyx: sit in your bowl.”

He shakes his head as he walks away to grab something, and the cats just keep following him wherever he goes. “I could do this in two minutes, if only this kitchen had fucking doors,” he mumbles.

“So, where were we?” Mike says as you step back into his room. He pulls you along as he walks to his bed, then turns around and drops down, dragging you with him. You end up on top of him. This time, his kiss isn’t soft. It’s eager, and sloppy, with that little edge of enthusiasm just north of too much. It’s dorky, and it’s exactly what makes him so cute. Even when he slips his hands underneath your t-shirt – something you tend to not let guys do on the first date – he does it with so much carefree eagerness that it’s somehow super sweet.

He has some serious trouble keeping his hands to himself, though, and you have to remind him several times that no, he’s absolutely getting nowhere near your boobs tonight.

“But they’re so pretty,” Mike pouts.

“Suck that bottom lip back in, boy,” you tease him, as he lets out a sad groan while trying to pull your face back to his. He doesn’t listen, so you bend down quickly and bite him in that stuck-out lower lip while you have the chance. It immediately becomes clear to you that that was the best mistake you’re going to make today, because he rolls you both over so that he’s on top now.

“Sweetcheeks, if you’re gonna bite, I’m gonna lose my patience,” he warns you with a goofy smile that melts your insides.

“This is you being patient?” There’s something about him that makes you want to tease him beyond where you’d normally go this quickly. He’s so handsome, and so… harmless. On a whim, you wrap your legs around him and pull him tighter against you. It’s absolutely undeniably obvious he has a boner.

“That’s a fair point, I guess… Larry, fuck off! I’m trying to score here!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in absolute terror. “Probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way...”

“Probably not,” you laugh. Mike rolls off you, spooking Larry – who had decided this was a good time to take a nap between Mike’s shoulder blades. He lies down next to you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“I wasn’t getting anywhere to begin with, was I?” he asks. Nothing about his tone or face gives you even the slightest idea that he minds if your answer is ‘no’. Not that you would have given him false hope, no matter how cute this guy is…

“I don’t hook up on the first date,” you reply, pretending to feel really bad for him.

“Second date?” he tries, the smile on his lips widening. “Why don’t you find out?”

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

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plumoh · 6 months

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a prayer and a coin; chapter 1

Natsume Yuujinchou & Noragami crossover fic.

Rating: G Wordcount: 2213 Characters in this chapter: Natsume & Yato Summary: Takashi calls a god. It makes things easier. Note: AO3 link. The first few chapters will cover the setting for this crossover when Natsume is still a child, then the following ones will most likely be standalones.

Takashi thinks it's worth a shot.

He's tried everything up until now, and nothing worked. He tried telling his guardians that something was lurking in the house sometimes, he tried asking for advice at school but the teachers weren't of big help, he tried the little tricks he saw in books like putting salt in front of doors. He is running out of ideas and the monsters keep following him everywhere he goes.

So one day, he scribbles down the phone number he sees on walls and billboards on his way back from school, thinks that this Yato god must be fake but… but the phone number is tagged in large and ugly handwriting and nobody seems to notice it. People would have gossiped about vandalism if they could see it. So that means this is a real god, right? A god who is only visible to those who need help?

Takashi runs home to avoid encountering any monsters. He pushes the door open, throws his backpack on the ground and quickly surveys the apartment to make sure his guardians are still at work. Only silence greets him, which makes him sigh in relief. He retrieves the piece of paper from his pocket, ambles towards the house phone, and dials.

He feels like his hammering heart is going to crash through his ribcage. There is one ring, then another, and these are the most nerve-wracking three seconds of his life.

And finally, someone picks up.

“Hi, thank you for calling! Fast, cheap and reliable, delivery god Yato at your service!”

Takashi slowly moves the phone handset away from his ear, and blinks. He’s not sure what he expected but it is…not that.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Takashi fumbles with the handset in his haste to reply. “Y-Yes, sorry. Thanks for answering my call.”

“Oh, a kid. What’s troubling you?”

“Um. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He hears something like a sigh on the other side. “Do you need help doing your homework? Did you lose something? Are you bullied at school?”

Takashi winces a little at the last suggestion, but this is not an issue he can’t resolve by himself, so he swallows and goes for it.

“I…I see monsters sometimes. They like scaring me and nobody believes me when I say they’re here. They all think I’m lying.”

Takashi nervously glances around the room, suddenly aware that any of the little monsters could have entered the apartment when he opened the door. He doesn’t hear or see anything hiding behind the couch, or flying over his head, so he’s probably safe for now.

Yatogami is quiet and doesn’t answer right away. Takashi’s heart drops to his stomach at the thought of a god not believing him either. Red-faced, his throat is getting dry and he feels panic rising in his body.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” he mumbles.

“No, no, kid, that’s alright,” Yatogami says hurriedly, and he tacks on a cheerful laugh at the end of his sentence. “You were right to call! So you’re telling me you can see ayakashi? Big colorful monsters with lots of eyes looking at you like you’re a feast?”

Takashi wracks his brain to find a monster similar to that description.

“I think I’ve seen small ones around on my way to school,” he says. “Like spiders? Or worms? But the monsters I usually see look like ghosts, or sometimes like people. They often wear traditional clothes or have masks.”

Takashi easily recognizes this type of monster (ayakashi?) because there is something unsettling about them—the one-eyed mask, the crooked fingers, the sinister smile. And they always specifically address him, even in a crowd. Then they follow him home and try to eat him.

The little colorful ayakashi don’t bother him as much, but he never expects to see them so close to other people or hiding in the cracks of the pavement, so that makes him anxious in a different way. What if they climbed on people and got into their homes?

“Hm… Well, you’re sensitive to both ayakashi and youkai, which is kind of rare,” Yatogami muses. “Do you mind if I come over to explain a few things? That will be easier than over the phone.”

Takashi startles at the request. “I-I’m not sure it’s a good idea… My uncle and my aunt are going to be home soon, and I’m not supposed to have guests over.”

“Don’t worry about that! They won’t be able to see me, and I can disappear just as fast as I appeared.”

And, probably to prove his point, someone materializes next to him. Takashi drops the phone and scrambles back against the wall, stupefied, while the man in front of him grins and lowers his cellphone.

“See? Divine teleportation!”

Yatogami is…a man no older than some of the cousins he sees at family dinners. He’s wearing a tracksuit. Takashi was imagining formal wear, like a kimono or at least a grown-up’s suit, so he’s completely taken aback by the ordinary person he’s seeing.

These blue eyes, however, are the most god-like feature on Yatogami—sharp, bright and all too knowing. Takashi feels pinned by that gaze, even though the rest of the god’s face is nothing but friendly.

“So, what’s your name, kid?”

Takashi does his best to refocus on the conversation, despite the odd feeling running the entire length of his body. Maybe being near a god naturally makes people uneasy.

“I’m Natsume Takashi,” he replies slowly. “Should I… Should I call you Yato-sama? You look so normal.”

Yatogami snorts. “Well, that’d be weird if ‘god’ was written on my forehead!”

“I mean, you’re wearing normal clothes…”

“They’re comfortable and perfect for the kind of jobs I do. And if you want to call me ‘Yato-sama’, go for it, Takashi!” The grin that splits Yatogami’s face in two looks genuine enough. “I’m a god after all, call me whatever you prefer.”

Takashi nods. “Yato-sama then.” It’d be rude if he doesn’t address a god with propriety, even if the god in question looks like he’s about to go on his morning run.

“I’m going to give you some advice, since you’re having trouble with ayakashi and youkai. Some people consider them the same thing, but in my experience ayakashi are less intelligent than youkai. Ayakashi are creatures that simply feed off people’s negative energy, while there are all sorts of youkai. You’ve probably seen many of them. Do you have paper and a pencil?”

Wordlessly, Takashi goes back to the front door to bring his backpack over. He reaches into it and retrieves the requested items (Takashi is giving Yatogami his math notebook, so he hopes there will be enough pages left for him to use at school). Yatogami takes them with a thanks and starts sketching on a blank page of the notebook with inhuman speed. He shows the results to a surprised Takashi.

“I’ve seen that one,” Takashi blurts out, pointing to a one-eyed, round body. “And the kappa. And some others that look a bit like what you drew.” He meets Yatogami’s eyes. “You’re very good at drawing.”

“One of my many hidden talents.” Yatogami winks. “What I’ve drawn are youkai. Most of them are capable of speech but they have varying degrees of intelligence. You should ignore them if they start talking to you, and if they’re really persistent, run to a temple. They don’t like their sacred grounds. Ayakashi will also leave you alone if you go to a temple, but you don’t have to worry about them as long as you don’t have strong negative emotions.”

Takashi frowns. “You said that… ayakashi like negative emotions? Like anger?”

“Anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, all sorts of things that humans don’t like feeling. So you’d better keep yourself in check, especially since you can see them.” Yatogami draws more figures on the paper, and this time the drawings only depict strange shapes with many eyes on their bodies. “They look kind of gross, right?”

Takashi gives a tiny nod. He doesn’t remember seeing huge creatures resembling the drawings, but maybe he just wasn’t paying attention. The small ones probably think they’re discreet enough to pass through the cracks and get closer to humans without them noticing.

“Thank you for telling me what these monsters are,” Takashi says, bowing his head. “I can’t talk about it with anyone, so I’m really glad you don’t think I’m a liar.”

Yatogami stills his hand, and his gaze settles on Takashi. There is…a dangerous glint in these blue, blue eyes.

“Humans are so frustrating to understand,” Yatogami sighs, shaking his head. “You’re just a kid, so you’ll grow up and become someone different. Surround yourself with people who like you for you.”

It’s easier said than done. All the friends Takashi tried to make eventually left him because they found him weird and scary—but he’s not going to tell that to Yatogami, who is only trying to help.

Yatogami sets the notebook and the pencil on the dining table, and with his back to Takashi, he says, “I can’t teach you how to defend yourself from youkai and ayakashi, but you can call me whenever you’re in trouble, alright?” Then he whirls around, and his gigantic grin is back on his face. “That will only cost you 5 yen!”

Takashi blinks. “5 yen?”

“Yeah! I’m not going to steal from a kid. Give me a 5-yen coin every time you call me and that will do.”

This is the oddest payment Takashi has ever heard of. He didn't even think about payment in the first place; he saw the phone number, a promise to help for any kind of issue and the hope of living a better life. But Yatogami seems sincere and he isn't looking at Takashi like he's pulling his leg or going to withdraw his offer. There is a sort of reassuring presence that emanates from the god—the aura of someone who knows what they're doing.

Takashi, despite the weird encounter, likes Yatogami. He's only had one conversation with him but he already looks forward to their next meeting.

“I probably have some coins in my bag… I'm not sure I have 5-yen coins, so if I give you 10 yen, does it mean I'm paying you in advance?”

Yatogami shrugs. “I usually only accept 5 yen, but I can make an exception.”

Takashi digs into his school bag, in the inside pocket near the bottom. He only gets enough money from his aunt and uncle to buy a snack every week or so, which means he should be really careful about storing it to avoid losing it. He pats around the pocket and finally fishes out a few small coins. There is no 5-yen coin, but like he suspected, he has a 10-yen coin.

“Here.” He hands the coin to Yatogami, who picks it up with a smile. “I don't know when I'll call you again, but I have your phone number written on a piece of paper so I won't forget it.”

Yatogami’s mouth quirks up, like he's resisting making a joke. He shakes his head, then flips the coin to toss it in the air and catches it in a swift motion.

“Thanks for the money. Be sure to call me back one day, because you'd be losing 5 yen if you don't!”

“It's only 5 yen,” Takashi says, puzzled.

“You have to start small to become rich, kid.” Yatogami looks around, stares at the front door a little longer than necessary, then says, “Well, I have to go now. Avoid trouble when you can, call me when you want me to deal with whatever problem you have! See you, Takashi!”

“Ah, uh, goodbye, Yato-sama!”

Right as Takashi’s words leave his mouth, Yatogami vanishes in a dance of light and the front door opens.

“Oh Takashi, you're already home?”

Takashi jumps towards the table to take Yatogami's drawings and stuff them into his bag. His aunt doesn't seem interested in what he's doing and simply heads towards the kitchen. She is humming a song that often gets broadcast on the radio, and Takashi hears some rustling from plastic bags. She is probably going to start on dinner, which means he should go back to his room and do his homework.

Takashi stuffs back Yatogami’s phone number in his pocket and lugs his backpack to his room. He should put the piece of paper somewhere that will be easy to reach—maybe in the pockets of his coat, or in the front pocket of his backpack. If he’s not at home, he can use a payphone to call. He should actually write the phone number on multiple pieces of paper, in case he loses one of them. And leave one under his pillow. That way, he’ll be able to call Yatogami whenever he needs to.

Satisfied and kind of giddy, Takashi sits at the tiny coffee table in his room and starts his math homework. Yatogami’s drawings are staring at him all the while, but Takashi, for once, isn’t scared of looking at these strange and awful creatures. They exist, and there are other people who can see them. He’s not alone.

#natsuyuu #noragami #natsume takashi #yato #natsume yuujinchou #fic: a prayer and a coin #i love these two series SO MUCH 8((#and soooo many characters are about to become friends

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snowandwolves · 4 months

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Tis your neighborhood lengthy ask anon - happy Friday! it's been a weird week, I had a nightmare and it threw me for a loop and off course - it also made me wish i had someone to make me cold hot chocolate. (i was rereading that chapter and there's a line "She could cry. She could laugh. She could run." and she does all three, doesn't she? but also: she stays 😭)

just three questions for you this time - you keep answering, so i'll keep asking! but as always, pick and choose what you feel like answering (i will say that ava getting arrested for streaking feels canon for every universe lololol ALSO worms are weird as heck ack)

In relation to the story, when did Lucia leave? like a year before it starts? months?

Was there any one scene or chapter that gave you a hard time?

You posted chapters almost exactly a month apart - did you plan that? if yes, how did you stay on track?

If you were to have art done for either the lighthouse au or sixth to the ninth, what would be your top 3 scenes?

also holy shit how is it february? what the actual hecking fuck. wishing you goodness and delicious food served at the perfect temperature!

i was responding to an ask before this one and happened to type “february” for it, and i had the same reaction you did. how??? did we get here??? rip my concept of time. also! of course, i’d keep answering??? this is genuinely so much fun for me and also reminds me that there’s more to life than trying to survive capitalism LMAO also, also literally projecting you the warmest, most comforting vibes i have for that nightmare you had 🥺 i’m sorry you had one, and i hope you’ve been having better dreams since! on to the questions!

1. you know, i tried to make a timeline for this to keep track, but HAHAHAHAHA I HAVE NO CONCEPT OF TIME. so let’s say like a year before lighthouse au. i’d imagine it should be enough time for bea to figure out how to live in the aftermath of her but also still carry the hurt lucia caused. oh no, that hurt me to write akdnskd moving on.

2. oh, there were so many. i had the hardest time starting the storm chapter because i’d been building it up literally and mentally 💀 so the brain went overdrive until i finally was like,,, fuck it 😂 also ava’s thoughts after she asked for space! character progression is hard. but i think where i struggled the most with this fic is handling both a main plot (getting them together) and the subplots (ava and bea’s respective character growths). i loved the challenge but it also hurt my brain 😂 i had to put the whole thing in an overly detailed database to keep track of everything 😂

3. god, no. i genuinely have no idea how i managed an update every month 😂 but i think the notion thing and have it all broken down there plus my mess of notes with all the fragments definitely helped. this fic literally taught me the magic of outlining.

4. fuck, lengthy ask anon. i would bawl and make a twitter purely to yell at y’all about any art related to my fics 😂 lighthouse au: i’d pass away if i ever see bea grounding ava during the storm, also them not making it to the bedroom, and also—for some reason—ava taking bea’s photo the first time. sixth to the ninth: i’d cry over ava’s return (the one where camila was there watching bea weep), bea in lilith’s wings, aaand bathroom scene (will break my goddamn heart but yep).

lengthy ask anon, i wish i knew how we managed to get to february but i’m glad we did 🥹 as always, thank you for this, and i deeply hope you’ve been having the best days 💙

#ask

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b1adie · 1 month

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unironically i started playing honkai seventeen days ago just for aventurine and I think I'm physically ill for this man. like gahhhh hes so silly. i have nearly 80 pulls thjat ive spent literally all my time grinding for, and I'm at 60 pity and I will literally kill someone if I lose the 50/50 .90% of gamblers quit before they hit jackpot and similarly 90% of Honkai Star Rail players quit before they win their 50/50. 90% of Honkai Star Rail players quit before they get E6 Aventurine. I need him so bad. Like I wouldn't be mad if I lost the 50/50 to like, Clara or something because I already have her from standard banner and I love her a lot, but if it were to literally anyone else I'd just start mauling people yk. I don't even know what that one kid's name is but he has blonde hair and swords and he's from the Xianzhou Luofu (not that far in the plotline, havent met him yet) but if I lose my 50/50 to that kid I might just die.

Listen I'm not his number one fan, I wouldn't daer to insinuate that I even am, I don't even want to like, fight people for that title. I just really like him and I wanted to thank you for all the Aventurine content that you've been churning out. I'm not sending this on main because I don't want to be clowned on but yeah this is. Really Unhinged. Sorry.

Also I like Dr. Ratio more honestly. I like them both equally but Aventurine isn't out yet so the only thing I'm staring at is Ratio. I have to run around as Clara (not a bad thing, I really like her!! She activates my parental instincts) because if I play as Ratio I will just stop doing whatever I'm doing and stare at him. It's been ruining my productivity.

listen to me. that blonde luofu kid has made me lose 4 times. if i see his ass a 5th time later today i’m going to start tearing the doors off people’s houses.

i didnt even realize how much aventurine stuff i was making until another ask mentioned it and i checked his tag and like half of the top posts were ALL MINE 😭 sneaky little blonde son of a bitch snuck up and took over my brain while i wasn’t paying attention. i have literally been having dreams about him. just 7 more hours now

i was actually messing with my ratio build earlier. he does ok i guess but he could be better… but i do have to admit i saw his design revealed like a year ago on reddit and i was like Oh my god?? like alright. slay i guess. and now i tell anyone who will listen that he’s a worm. what a weird guy… though i am a fan of his rubber ducky collection.

clara is who i got on the starter banner too ^_^ i wanna work on building her some more but im trying to build. every single character ever so its taking me a while to get back to her T_T

#asks

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softlyblues · 6 months

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the stones of venice

read on ao3

a/n: writing a doodle for every 8 audio drama i listen to because i have worms in my brain and they're making me do crazy things like bite my girlfriend's arm while we watch tv

And so he’s running again. All he ever seems to do is run - stop - sleep - drink tea in copious amounts, most of it made quite badly by well-meaning mums - and then run again. “Doctor,” the man behind him pants, “Doctor - wait - slow - down-”

Churchill? No. Churchwell. That’s his name. The other one is someone different. The Doctor slows but doesn’t stop or look behind him, splashing boot-footed through puddles, although all of Venice is puddle now, just a shallow, splashy lagoon in the Adriatic. “You have got to run, Churchwell!” He shouts behind him, “Run, man, run!”

And run he does. They huff and puff through ankle-depth streets, splashing noisily, although their pursuers are louder than they ever will be; the cultists are not known for their subtlety, clearly. “Keep up, Churchwell!” The Doctor shouts periodically.

If it has a positive effect on Churchwell, he doesn’t notice it. The swearing does pick up a bit, though.

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor pants. He reaches out and snags Churchwell by the collar, hauling them both into a cloistered groove in the side of a wall, like an old wine-hole spread open by the years. Darker in here. The cultists won’t see them.

Churchwell puts his hand on the wet brick, doubled over, heaving. “My god,” he wheezes, to the sound of distant partying, “My good god, what are you, a long-distance runner?”

“No,” the Doctor admits. He puts his hand on Churchwell’s back and pats twice, then thinks better of it and removes it. “I’m good at running away from things, though.”

Churchwell straightens and swallows. He has the pomposity of a small, round man, like a balloon filled with just a little too much water at a birthday party. “But why are they chasing us, Doctor? What-” he takes a moment, cheeks red, “What could possibly be so important, with hours left to live?”

Ah. Finally a question with an answer. “Oh, Churchwell,” the Doctor waves his hand dismissively, “In my experience, people love to chase you. It gives them an excuse to capture you and rough you up a little.”

And in good time, that’s exactly what they do.

Churchwell is not a cowardly man. He’ll be the first to admit it, hand on heart sir, eyes to the sky sir, do your worst sir -

But he is glad he developed the skill of holding his tongue early on in life. It is a skill that this Doctor, this enigmatic man with the narrow face and brilliant eyes, has clearly never got to grips with.

“Fascinating,” the Doctor says, tugging experimentally on the rusty chains pinning his arms above his shoulders, “Do you know, I believe these are bona fide?”

“What, real metal?” Churchwell bites acidly. He’s not too pleased with the treatment himself, and is still deciding whether to be annoyed or not about how roughshod they’ve secured him compared to the Doctor; he’s just had his hands tied behind his back, and been put in the corner.

The Doctor chuckles. One of his canines is a little too long, and tips over his bottom lip. He wriggles his hands and rains rust on his curly hair. “Can you imagine? Old Venice, and all those lovely political prisoners in the dungeons? Do you think they put, say, Galileo in here?”

“Don’t be stupid,” a voice lances from the shadows, and out steps Vincenzo like a bad painting, the bottom of his robes trailing in the wet.

This time, the noise is definitely a giggle. The Doctor beams at Vincenzo. “Hello! Pleased to see you, dear.”

Churchwell knows Vincenzo quite well. Of course, all the Venetians know each other now, even the ones of the wrong sort Churchwell would never usually associate with; there’s just not enough of them for such selectiveness beyond the toad-people. He’s an intense sort of fellow and desperately annoying, but up until today that’s all Churchwell had thought of him, beyond a sort of vague fear the cultists might catch him unawares one day and interrogate him for the portrait.

But Vincenzo is ignoring him now. His hawkish eyes have a different prize.

The Doctor smiles. On another face, Churchwell would call it coquettish, but here he just looks -

Well.

“You have something I want,” Vincenzo says mildly. He paces up to the Doctor - he is taller than him by almost a full head, and now the Doctor has to look up at him, his neck bobbing as he tilts it - “And I have something you want.”

“Oh?” The Doctor rattles his right hand, “Enlighten me, Vincenzo.”

One tapered hand, beringed, emerges from a billowing sleeve and grasps the Doctor’s chin. Vincenzo digs his nails in; even from the corner, Churchwell can see the little rings of white where too much pressure has been applied. “You have the painting. You know where it is.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor jerks his head back just a little, but it’s a concentrated effort to wrest himself free; unfortunately Vincenzo is bigger and freer, and keeps grip with a disconcerting little smile. “I don’t know what painting you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act stupid,” Vincenzo says, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I say,” Churchwell begins, but quiets himself when both men shoot him glances - the Doctor’s warm, Vincenzo’s piercing.

“This silly sot has told you everything,” Vincenzo continues. He lets go of the Doctor’s face but doesn’t step back. “I can see it in you - you know where she is. Where she’s hung.”

“Hanged,” the Doctor corrects, “Meat is hung. People are hanged.”

The smack is loud and shocking - Churchwell squeaks in surprise - and the Doctor’s head bounces back against the brick wall with a disturbing crack and a winded, punched gasp from the man in question. His cheek has begun to dribble drips of blood from Vincenzo’s slashing signet ring, and for a fraction of a millisecond he hangs in his chains.

“She is far more than you could ever hope to believe,” Vincenzo says measuredly, putting his thumb to the frame of his fingers marked in red on the Doctor’s face, “You won’t disrespect her again.”

The Doctor looks dumb for a second. His eyes, brilliant as they may be, are fractured with an emotion Churchwell finds hard to identify. “Surely you aren’t talking about that old painting?”

And Vincenzo is back in it. “What old painting?” He comes so close the Doctor is shoved hard against the wall, and that can’t be comfortable on his strained shoulders, “What old painting?”

“The one you showed me, Churchwell,” pants the Doctor.

“I did no such thing!”

“You did, remember? The beautiful woman in the Duke’s chambers.”

“The bea- Doctor!”

But Vincenzo has smelled the blood in the water, and not only literally.

And for some reason, the Doctor just keeps beaming, face bruised and wrists rusty from his shackles.

#eighth doctor #paul mcgann #big finish #my writing

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dameronology · 3 years

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you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie?#i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie.

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried.

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake.

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?”

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered.

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling. “Is everything okay with you?”

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.”

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement.

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke.

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing.

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him.

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together.

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of.

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head.

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats.

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in .

For what would, no doubt, be a long day.

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes.

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style.

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore.

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started.

“Guys! It’s been a while.”

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question.

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit.

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you.

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to.

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back.

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you.

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously.

“Y/n you need to go home.”

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed.

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?”

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”

“And then lunch?”

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy.

“How fars the drive?”

“At this time probably an hour and a half.”

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down.

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you.

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’.

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers.

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point.

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible.

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms.

“Wheres your team?”

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway.

“You sure?”

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas.

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you.

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram.

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly.

“How you doing?” Tom asked.

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation.

“shit.”

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you.

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever.

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic.

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.”

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging.

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-”

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again.

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake.

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great.

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin.

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep.

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears.

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.”

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom Holland angst #tom Holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #harry holland #tom holland request

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

Note

Lol loved your tags under the prompt list post

Um... how about #8 with taakitz and Lup?

sometimes i do like to think I'm funny!

#8 "How do you get accidentally married?" from this prompt list (still accepting!)

Sunlight streams through the blinds and manages to worm its way into Taako’s eyes. He grumbles and throws an arm over his face. Drop money on expensive blackout curtains and this is what he gets?

Wait a minute.

Taako runs his hand down his face and does his best to blink fatigue out of his eyes. Quickly, he realizes that this is not his bedroom. Though as he hears the familiar chirping of the smoke detector that desperately needs its batteries replaced, he deduces that this is his apartment. Which means –

“Jesus Christ, I am never drinking again,” a groggy voice says.

Bingo. Taako turns his head and finds himself face to face with his severely hungover and yet still unfairly handsome roommate. Taako grins grimly, a sentiment Kravitz mirrors weakly.

With some effort, Taako begins recollecting some of the events that led him to where he is. He and Kravitz went out to celebrate last night. They went out to celebrate –

“Holy shit, I passed my doctoral defense,” Taako mutters out. Spent five years getting that PhD and then immediately killed approximately half his brain cells. Great use of that brain, doc.

“Right, congrats again. I know I probably told you that yesterday but uh… well. You know”

There Kravitz goes, tiptoeing around that massive elephant in the room. Now, Taako isn’t opposed to this situation. No, in fact, he’s very much into this situation. But this isn’t exactly how he was imaging this scenario to ever pan out. Frankly, it’s probably best to be adults and have a Conversation™ about what this whole thing means for them. But Taako’s not really equipped for that at the moment. Avoidance is more is schtick.

“Uh, you hungry? Because I’m famished and I also –“

Taako’s phone vibrates violently on the bedside table. He reaches for it and immediately sits up. Seven missed calls from Lup and what seems like a million texts. Something tells him that these aren’t just congratulatory. A small ball of anxiety settles into his stomach.

The line rings for barely a second before he hears Lup’s voice on the other end.

“Uh hey, you fucking got married?”

Taako sputters out a terrible, sharp laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“I woke up about an hour ago, checked my phone, and saw a bunch of pics of you and your roomie captioned ‘Dr. and Mr. Taaco.’ Congrats on the defense, by the way.”

“Oh my god, that was probably just me showing my ass. You know me, I don’t exactly make the best choices when I drink.” And it's true. What probably happened was Taako talked Kravitz into conning some people into free drinks with a fake proposal. Oldest trick in the book.

Kravitz looks over at him, his expression a little murky. He scrolls on his phone for a minute before his eyes widen in astonishment. “Uh… Taako?”

“One sec, Krav.”

“Taako, listen, I know you’re kind of an idiot when you drink but I did also wake up to a video from you this morning. It was actually a little more illuminating than all the pictures. Care to guess what it was?”

“No, because I’m sure you’re just going to tell me what it is,” Taako says flatly.

“It was, in fact, you and Kravitz literally getting married!”

Taako pulls the phone away from his ear for a minute. He’s not at all equipped to be dealing with whatever the hell is going on. He’s about to say something snarky back to Lup when Kravitz taps him on the shoulder.

“Um. So I couldn't help but overhear and well…” Kravitz mumbles as he holds his phone out to Taako. He squints and takes a moment to determine what it is that he’s looking at.

Sure as shit, it’s a picture of him and Kravitz in some dubious-looking, neon-covered chapel. They’re both holding a corner of a piece of paper. Taako can’t quite decipher what it is but he doesn’t really need too many clues to determine that he has fucked up in a pretty big way.

His mouth goes a little dry when he has the vaguest recollection of plucking one of his rings off his finger, getting on one knee in a filthy bar, and taking Kravitz’s hand in his own.

Taako pinches the bridge of his nose. He just got comfortable around Kravitz after getting this new lease a few months ago and this is what happens? Handsome roommate or not, he’s gotta start thinking with his brain when he drinks.

“Lulu, would you believe that it was an accident?”

Kravitz snorts and wipes a hand down his face, stopping to look at Taako’s ring that found its way onto his finger. Taako almost swears he sees Kravitz smile.

“Taako. My very favorite person. Sharer of my genetic material. How do you become accidentally married?” Lup sounds like she has aged roughly one million years since the phone call began.

“Well, I guess what happens is you pass your defense, you do some shots, you get lonely and weepy, you ask your roommate to get married, and then you do?”

“Okay. Okay. Taako, I love you. You’re also a massive mess. You sound hungover so deal with that and I’ll start doing some research for you on how to deal with this whole thing, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Talk to you later, love you!”

“Love you.”

“Say hi to your husband for me.”

“You are actively the worst!”

Taako doesn’t look at Kravitz for a while. Looks around his room instead. It’s tidy without being sterile. Comfortable. Homey.

The minute that thought crosses Taako’s mind, he shoves it away. Not really something to unpack right now.

“Gotta say, I never really imagined getting married before a first date,” Kravitz says, a smile pulling at his lips.

Taako snorts. “Guess cha’boy’s anything but traditional.”

“I feel bad, I didn’t even get you a ring.”

“You should, I have amazing taste,” he reaches over and grabs Kravitz’s hand, inspecting the particular ring he used. It’s one of his favorites, actually. A delicate gold band with a gem encrusted crescent moon. He always says they’re diamonds when they’re likely just crystals. Still beautiful, though. “You can keep it in the divorce.” And he means it. He holds Kravitz's hand for admittedly a moment or two longer than necessary.

Kravitz looks at Taako and his expression is odd, if not a little surprising. He almost looks wistful. Probably just the hangover, Taako figures.

Kravitz opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the smoke detector’s death rattle.

“Tell you what, Krav, I’ll kill any spiders we happen upon until this thing is dissolved if you change those goddamn batteries.”

“You got a deal.”

Taako knows he should get up when Kravitz gets up. Shouldn’t just stay in his bed. But he also shouldn’t feel this bummed about getting a real divorce after getting accidentally real married to his roommate, so it feels like a fair trade.

#this got a little wistful oops!!#alcohol ment #alcohol tw #taakitz #taakitz au #taako taaco #kravitz #the adventure zone #taz #taz balance #tazb #reese writes #thank you so much for the request!!#i still have two requests vibing in my inbox and ill get to those soon i promise!#[but reese what did taako get his phd in??] sociology and im not taking anymore questions fkrbrhrid #this au is super vague and honestly i think thats fun

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

Enchantment

Rowaelin Month, Day 20

Playing with Magic @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist//Main Masterlist//Fluff//1462 words

“Where in the world could she be?” Aelin asked frantically, running her hands through her hair anxiously.

Rowan shook his head. “Aelin… I’m so sorry… but I don’t think we’ll ever find her. She’s gone for good.”

Aelin gasped. “She can’t be. Don’t give up, Rowan; she’s our little girl!”

A mournful sigh left Rowan’s mouth. “Fireheart, I know you love her, and I do too, but we have to be realistic.”

Aelin covered her face with her hands. “I miss her already.”

Rowan’s lips twitched, and Aelin knew he was holding back a laugh. She pressed her own lips together to keep her face as melancholy as possible.

“Me too,” was all he could manage, hand going to his mouth to cover a snort.

Aelin grinned. “This is all your fault. If you had never suggested hide and seek, we never would have lost Nora in the first place.”

“My fault? How could you?” Rowan clutched his chest dramatically.

Aelin turned away, crossing her arms. “I don’t think I can stand to look at you anymore, you bastard. Leave me be.”

She watched in the mirror she was facing as Rowan sent a wink her way. “As you wish, my queen. I’ll pack my things immediately.”

Rowan turned and started for the door. Instead of passing the pair of shoes sticking out from under the bed, he paused. “Are these…” He paused dramatically. “Nora’s shoes?”

“All we have left of her,” Aelin replied, sniffling.

A muffled wheezing sound came from under the bed, and Aelin and Rowan exchanged a smile.

“I better get them, dear. If we leave them here, someone could trip over them.”

Aelin finally turned around. “As you wish.”

Upon hearing that the shoes were going to be picked up, they retracted farther under the bed, frantically trying to disappear. But Rowan was too fast for the shoes. He grabbed them, pulling a squealing child out from under the bed.

“Nora!” Aelin cried. “My gods, I thought we’d lost you forever!”

Nora, still on her back with her shiny red shoes in Rowan’s hands, stuck her tongue out at her mother. “No you didn’t, Mom, you’re the worst actor ever.”

Aelin gasped in indignation. “You slanderous little worm. Why, I’ll teach you to speak to the queen in that manner.”

She marched over, suppressing a grin once more as Nora squealed again and wiggled her feet free from Rowan’s grasp. She tried to stand, but Aelin swooped down on her and picked her up effortlessly.

“What will the punishment be?” Aelin asked in mock reprimand. “A visit to the dungeons? One thousand push-ups? Chocolate for dinner?”

“Mm, that last one sounds pretty good to me,” Nora said thoughtfully, dangling in Aelin’s arms.

“Mala spare me,” Rowan muttered.

Mother and daughter sent matching smirks to Rowan, only smiling harder as he said something along the lines of, “I hate it when you two do that.”

“Well, now that hide and seek has brought us the tragedy of thinking our daughter was gone forever”—Nora stuck out her tongue again—“why don’t we find something else to do?”

There was no pause between Aelin’s question and the squirming little girl saying, “Oh, we can practice magic. Please? Please, please, please?” Nora stared right into Aelin’s eyes. “Please, Mama,” she whispered.

Aelin laughed. “Of course we can. But we better get out of the castle, away from collateral.”

Nora nodded seriously, probably unsure of what “collateral” meant but too stubborn to admit it.

Aelin set her daughter on the ground. “Race you down to the courtyard,” she said.

And Nora was off, sprinting out the door and down the stairs.

Rowan chuckled. “She’s a handful, alright.”

“But she’s our handful,” Aelin said primly.

Rowan snorted. “You’re so cheesy.”

Aelin flashed a smile. “Race you down to the courtyard,” she repeated in a soft murmur, a flirty undertone in her voice.

Both of them knew the fastest way was not the stairs, as Nora had gone, but out the window and straight down. Rowan could fly, of course, so Aelin made sure to swing a foot out and knock him off his feet before jogging to the window. She smirked to herself as Rowan cursed her name.

Aelin may not be able to fly, but agility was second nature to her. She kept herself in shape, always training with Rowan, working for every muscle on her body, pushing herself to get better. Aelin hadn't quite been prepared for the pregnancy with Nora, and she’d had many days where helplessness had wracked her brain until the only thought in her head was that she was weak.

After all, some scars never heal.

But she’d finally given birth to the joy that was their daughter, and Aelin had started training all over again. She and Rowan had discussed more children, and firmly decided to wait a while longer until Aelin was ready again, which is why they only had the one child, nearly eight years old.

And the past eight years had made Aelin more physically able than she’d ever been, a feat of nature. She may not have wings as her mate did, but the way she climbed down the many stories, hanging from terraces and dropping from ledges, could almost be considered flying.

Aelin was nearing the bottom when a white-tailed hawk sailed out of the bedroom window. She went as far as to raise her middle finger before dropping the last story and a half, rolling, and rising with ethereal grace.

Aelin was too busy smirking at her husband as he dived to the ground to notice the little munchkin charging her way. One minute she was mouthing loser to the skies, as immature as ever, and the next a small form was clinging to her side.

“I almost won!” Nora yelled, desperate for some form of credit.

Aelin grinned and ruffled the short silver locks she’d inherited from her father. “Yes you did, dear.”

“I want to set something on fire,” Nora declared blatantly.

“Just like her mother,” an amused, but slightly concerned, voice said from beside them. Rowan had shifted back into his Fae form.

Aelin sent him an innocent smile. “What do you want to set on fire, Nora?”

“Don’t answer that,” Rowan cut in immediately. “Let’s start with something… unlikely to be needed in the future.”

Aelin snorted. “Boring old man,” she said, and Nora giggled, earning a faux wounded expression from Rowan.

Aelin pulled something out of her pocket.

“Tell me that’s not Darrow’s latest decree,” Rowan said in exasperation, already knowing the answer.

Aelin shot him a smile. “Something unlikely to be needed in the future, exactly as you wished, my darling.”

Rowan shook his head, lips twitching slightly.

Aelin unrolled the scroll and held it out, stepping away from Nora. She sent a nod her daughter’s way.

Nora got into defensive position—her parents’ child for sure—and furrowed her brow. She’d played with her magic plenty of times before, but she was still learning how to control it, particularly the small amount of fire she’d inherited from her mother. She had a far greater amount of ice powers from Rowan, and better control over them as well—which made burning things all the more fun, in Aelin’s opinion.

Nora stared holes into the parchment, but nothing happened. Rowan came up behind her and bent down to whisper something in her ear, and the tenderness of the gesture melted Aelin’s heart. Nora nodded in determination once Rowan was done and squinted.

Her focus seemed to have improved with Rowan’s instruction, for smoke started rising from the paper. Nora smiled in delight and the whole thing burst into flames without warning. Aelin grinned and held the scroll as it turned into ash in her hand.

“Lovely, Nora.”

Darrow would not be pleased. What a productive day this was turning into.

Nora clapped her hands excitedly. She spun around, the ground starting to turn frosty at her feet. The wind whipped, and Aelin shared a proud look with Rowan as ice scread across the courtyard.

Nora’s power was limited, and the ice couldn’t quite reach the edges of the courtyard. Aelin felt Rowan’s ice freeze the whole thing over thicker in addition to expanding it, and all of a sudden, they were standing on their own little ice rink.

Nora squealed, quite possibly unaware her father had helped out. She laughed—then yelped as she slid onto her bottom. Nora quickly got back to her feet, just as capable as her father and persistent as her mother.

Aelin slid lazily over to Rowan, still watching their daughter spin and skate around. “I love you.”

He smiled, lifting a thumb to Aelin’s cheek. “I love you too.”

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #enchantment #my writing #rowaelinmonth

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captainimprobable · 3 years

Text

part two of that thing I posted last week! This is also an unedited first draft, so take it with a grain of salt

~ ~

She arrives in the dead of night, clothes singed and skin burned.

The knock wakes them all, but Hooty is the loudest. He bursts through Luz’s window, a worm shaped interloper, and announces “HEY LUZ, YOUR GF IS HERE!!!!! SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE WAS DIPPED IN A POT OF ACID, BUT I’M SURE IT’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.”

Before Luz can even open her eyes fully to focus, he slides back out of her window with a loud “HOOT HOOT”.

Blinking sleep out of her eyes, Luz thinks she might be dreaming, until she hears the knock at the door. It’s insistent, quick, and somehow a little desperate.

Something is wrong.

She is instantly awake and on her feet, flying down the hallway just in time to collide with Eda, whose hair is sticking up at all angles. Before she can fall, Eda steadies her, and says “Did I hear Hooty say that Boots is in trouble?”

“I’m not sure,” Luz says frantically, “but we need to get to the door. Now.” She’s already running as she’s talking, and finally, finally, she makes it to the front of the house. She wrenches open the door and standing there is Amity, eyes red rimmed and body shaking.

Behind her is a sheet of boiling rain.

“Oh my gosh, did you run here in the rain???” Luz asks, grabbing Amity’s hand and tugging her inside. Amity nods wordlessly, staring at a spot on the floor. Now that she’s closer, Luz can see the damage; the rain has singed the sleeves of Amity’s dress, and dark, angry burns march up and down her arms. “Dang, kid, are you okay?” Eda asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Something inside Luz tugs insistently, and though she wants to panic, she knows Amity needs her more right now. So she takes a deep breath and says “Let’s get you patched up, okay?”

Amity doesn’t move. She’s still staring at the floor with a blank expression, and Luz suddenly has no idea what to do. She wants to wrap Amity in her arms, protect her from whatever’s going on, but she knows that might not be appreciated, so she decides to ask.

“Do you want a hug?”

Amity nods so imperceptibly that Luz thinks she might have imagined it, but she nonetheless takes it as a yes. Careful to loop her arms around Amity’s waist and not her neck so as to avoid touching the burns, she wraps Amity in a loose hug. For a second, Amity does nothing. She stands there shaking with her arms hanging at her sides, until all at once, like a dam exploding, she grabs at Luz almost desperately, pulling her tighter as she bursts into tears.

Luz has never been in a situation like this before. Eda is sitting on the couch a respectful distance away, watching but not getting involved. Luz doesn’t know what to do, so she decides to follow her instincts. She reaches up to stroke Amity’s hair and whispers “It’s okay, you’re okay”. Amity cries herself out a few minutes later, Luz talking to her in a soothing voice the whole time. When only sniffles remain, Luz asks “Can we go to the couch? Eda wants to treat your burns.”

“Y-yeah,” Amity hiccups. It’s the first thing she’s said all night, and something in Luz loosens at the sound of it. She keeps an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders as she guides her to the couch. She doesn’t want to let go, so when they sit down, she instantly grabs Amity’s hand.

“Is this okay?” she asks Amity. Amity nods, gently brushing her thumb along Luz’s knuckles in silent consent.

“Wow,” Eda whistles. “The rain got you good. Why were you out in that anyway, are you crazy?”

“Eda-” Luz starts, but Amity holds a hand up. “It’s okay,” she says. As Eda begins pulling potions out of the cabinet, Amity says “It’s- it’s my parents”.

Luz goes cold. She remembers them well. It’s hard to forget people who tried to kill you.

She hasn’t had much contact with Alador, but Odalia...Odalia gives her a feeling she can’t describe. Just the sight of her makes Luz unspeakably angry. Looking at Amity now, though, she realizes that Alador is just as bad. Complacency in the face of abuse is just as bad as the abuse itself.

“We had a fight,” Amity continues. “And you ran away? In the boiling rain? That takes guts, kid,” Eda says, a mixture of impressed and concerned.

“Not exactly. They, um...they kicked me out.”

“WHAT?”

“It’s not forever,” Amity hastens to say. “Just for the night. My mom said she...she said she can’t even look at me right now, and my Dad just agreed with her. Like he always does.”

Luz’s grip on Amity’s hand is tight as steel now. She’s ready to get up and give the Blights a piece of her mind. She wants to take them down, and make them pay for what they’ve done.

“So,” Luz says in a low voice. “Your parents left you alone in the middle of the night in rain that can literally kill you?”

“Yeah,” Amity says bitterly. “They’re not the best parents.”

“I’m going to make them pay for this. I’m- I’m going to go over there, and I’m going to-”

“Luz,” Amity puts a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “No. You can’t- I don’t want you in the same room as them ever again, okay?” Amity sounds scared.

Luz remembers the abomiton that tried to kill her, and the disappointed look on Odalia’s face when it didn’t succeed. She also remembers Amity’s righteous anger, and the steely eyed glare she gave her mother.

“I can’t have you hurt again,” Amity says, sounding almost frantic. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Okay, okay, shh it’s okay,” Luz assures her, cupping a hand to her face. Neither of them have the energy to be embarrassed about it right now, but it’s probably the most romantic gesture they’ve shared. Amity leans into Luz’s hand, breathing deeply.

“This might sting,” Eda says from the other side of the couch. Both Luz and Amity jump, having forgotten that she was there. Sheepishly, they part, still holding hands. Eda smirks at Luz and gives her a wink that Luz hopes Amity didn’t see. She gets the feeling Eda is going to be talking to her about this later.

Eda dabs a bit of blue potion onto Amity’s arm, and Amity hisses, breath whistling through her teeth, but she doesn’t flinch. “Is it- ow- is it okay that I came here?” She asks Eda, looking at her shyly.

Eda snorts, like it’s the stupidest question in the world. “I practically take kids in for a living, now,” she says. “What’s one more?”

“It’s just for the night,” Amity hastens to assure her. “I’m going home tomorrow morning.”

Luz shakes her head. “I hate the idea of you living with them. I can’t believe they treat you like this and just get away with it!”

“I’ll get out of there eventually. When I join a coven…” Amity trails off, and an awkward silence ensues. They haven’t talked about the whole “Amity’s biggest dream being potentially crushed by the Emperor being evil” thing.

“Well, the point is, it’s not forever,” Amity finally finishes.

“Aaaand done,” Eda says, wrapping the last bandage around Amity’s wrist. She stands up, knees creaking in an entirely unnatural way. “And now it’s bedtime,” she yawns. “You two get some rest, too.”

“Thank you, Eda,” Amity calls, and Eda gives her a lazy wave over her shoulder as she leaves.

The adrenaline is wearing off, now, and Luz suddenly realizes she has no idea what she’s doing. She glances at Amity out of the corner of her eye, and the image of her cupping Amity’s face floats into her brain. She flushes a deep scarlet, and suddenly, she needs to be doing something, anything else.

“Well, okay,” she says loudly, standing up abruptly and walking towards the closet. “Let me get you some pillows and a blanket, the couch is old and creaky, but it’s comfortable.”

As she’s rummaging through the closet, she hears Amity say “Luz”.

“Yeah?”

“Would you- I mean, if you wanted to, could you- could you stay with me for a little while?” She sounds so scared, and so sad, and it’s so unlike Amity that Luz melts immediately.

“Of course,” she says. “Here, scoot over.”

Amity moves a few inches, wincing at the pain in her arms. Luz sits down next to her and drapes a blanket over the both of them. They sit there awkwardly for a few minutes, and Luz is absolutely freaking out. She has no idea what to do now. Before she can agonize over it any further, Amity’s head lands on Luz’s shoulder.

This is unprecedented.

Nobody ever told Luz how scary the beginning of a relationship is. Nobody warned her that every little thing Amity does could change her mood instantly, or that every time she touches her she can swear to god she feels electricity.

Nobody told her how bittersweet it could be to have Amity Blight resting her head on her shoulder, exhausted from a horrific night of what can only be called abuse.

Her internal alarms are going off, she’s losing her mind, and she hopes Amity doesn’t notice. In the midst of this emergency, Amity calls her name sleepily.

“Hey, Luz?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my favorite person.”

Oh. Oh wow. Oh. Wow.

This is a whole new level of scary. She feels a mixture of nerves and elation swirl through her, and she can’t help but smile, and she feels a little bit like crying but she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what to say, so instead, she does something even scarier: she kisses the top of Amity’s head.

She freezes, hoping that was okay, hoping that Amity doesn’t feel weird about it, but before she can ask, Amity starts quietly snoring.

She’s fallen asleep. Luz breathes a sigh of relief, marveling at the fact that Amity felt comfortable enough, after an awful night, to come to her house and fall asleep on her shoulder. How did she ever get so lucky?

After awhile, Luz yawns and checks her watch. Four forty two am. It’s definitely time for bed, but she doesn’t want to wake Amity up by leaving, so she decides that she’s going to stay up all night, watching over her girlfriend and making sure she’s okay.

Two minutes later, she falls asleep, resting her head on Amity’s.

When they wake up in the morning, it’s all apologies and blushing and everything Luz has started to get used to. But Amity has a small smile on her face despite her blush, and Luz has to admit: it’s the best nap she’s ever had.

#lumity #the owl house #writins #firsts and seconds #(thats what this series is called)

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1plus1kiyoomi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Mornings and Neckties

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“Don’t you love me anymore?” Kuroo asks. You cup his cheeks and pull his face closer since he was backing away. There’s sadness in his eyes, anyone can tell that. “You’ve just been so distant lately. I understand that it may be because you’re busy with work, but I don’t know. You just feel different ever since that Yuta guy walked you home.”

“Yuta has nothing to do with this. I told you I stopped talking to him after that night,” you sigh, letting go of his face.

“If it has nothing to do with him, then it must be something else.” Kuroo sits on your desk that is behind him. “What is it love?”

“Let’s talk about it at home.” You try to shrug the topic off but he tugs on your hand, pulling your body to stand in between his legs. The warmth of his hand is contrasting with your cold one.

“I want to talk about it now,” he says as firmly as his hold on your hand. You take a deep breath in before maintaining eye contact with him. Your mouth opens and you don’t even know what you’re saying. All you know is that you’re finally letting out your pent up anger and frustration that is caused by his toxic traits and your unsteady relationship.

What amazes you is how calm Kuroo is. He is listening to every word you’re saying and isn’t showing any foul reaction. His fingers run up and down your forearm to calm you down, abling you to speak properly.

After your final complaint, the room falls silent. Not knowing what to do, you lower your head and tears fall out of your eyes. Kuroo’s hand travel to your lower back, his fingers drawing small circles. You’re getting ready to flee the room because he isn’t saying anything to you. The silence was deafening and hurting your ears. Just when you are about to leave, he speaks.

“I know for a fact that if I apologize, it wouldn’t be enough. I won’t make any excuses and take responsibility for the hurt I’ve caused you. If you want to leave, I won’t force you to stay with me or ask for another chance. But if you do give me a chance, I’ll make sure you don’t regret your choice.”

“If you’re worried about our parents, I can talk to them. You don’t have to suffer from our relationship just to prove that you’re a good daughter.” Kuroo’s arms are wrapped around you. It’s tight. His hold is tight. He’s savoring every moment because this might be the last time he gets to have you in his arms.

Kuroo is acting calm, but deep inside, his heart is shattering and his thoughts are all over the place. He’s trying so hard to choose the right words to tell you. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s okay with letting you go or he’s forcing you to stay. All he wants at the moment is not to be selfish and choose you over his pride.

Kuroo doesn’t believe in gods or anything spiritual, but right now, he’s praying that you choose whatever makes you happy. Of course he hopes that you stay, but your euphoria matters more.

Leaning your head on Kuroo’s shoulder, you cry harder. What makes him think you can leave him? You could have left on the first year of your marriage when he never said a thing to you. You could have left when he said he will never fall in love with you. You could have ran away when you saw him sleep with another girl. You could have ended your relationship when you found out he was in love with Alisa.

You were given all the reasons and chances to leave, but at the end of the day you always choose to stay. Today, as foolish as you can be, you’ll stay again.

“I’ll stay...” you mutter in between cries. “Who’ll fix your necktie before you go to work if we break up?” You try to lighten up the mood and it works since Kuroo chuckles. Your husband plants a long kiss on your temple, eyes closed shut. The tears he had been holding back finally falls, his hold getting tighter.

But you don’t see it. You don’t see how he’s crying for you just like you’re crying for him.

“Thank you for staying.”

——————————————————————————

Your relationship has gotten better ever since the two of you talked. Kuroo wasn’t joking when he said that you won’t regret your choice if you ever stay. He has been nothing but a good spouse to you since that day. Literally, the best out there. Sometimes you wonder if he would’ve become like this, too, if you told him earlier.

Right now, he’s cooking breakfast while you wait at the dining table. You agreed on a rule that the two of you eat together as much as possible. If his lunch breaks allow, he comes to your office just to eat with you. He even brings desserts for your coworkers.

Kuroo has also implied that he drives you to your workplace everyday, and he fetches you wherever you are at whatever time. You got off work at 2AM? Kuroo’s still picking you up. You have an event that ends at 5AM? He will wake up just to make sure you get home.

Your husband doesn’t forget to bring you flowers, too. Sometimes it’s a big bouquet, some other days it’s a single stem. It’s a different flower every day since “it all has different meanings.” Red Camellias because “you are the flame in my heart. White Clovers because he wants you to think of him and him alone. Yellow Jasmines because he said and you quote, “you are grace. You are elegant. Be the Jasmine to my Aladdin.”

Others will think that it’s overbearing, but you don’t mind at all. You love seeing the tall man wrapped around your tiny finger. You are happy to see the real him. The dorky, caring, competitive Kuroo Tetsuro.

“What do you want to eat for lunch later?” Kuroo asks you as the two of you start eating your first meal of the day. “I only have a half day today, so I have time to buy lunch.”

“You.”

“You’re getting bolder each day,” Kuroo chuckles at your teasing remark. “Do you have plans after work?”

“I have to buy something at the mall. And then maybe we can eat dinner at that restaurant your sister recommended.”

The two of you eat and then prepare for work together. Every morning, you share the mirror and laugh at each other’s faces while you brush your teeth. You make fun of his hair and attempt to put it down, but of course it doesn’t. He chooses your blush and lipstick and applies it on you. Those are all part of your new morning routine. But it doesn’t end there.

“I’m starting to think you’re purposely tying your necktie the wrong way so I can fix it,” you point out as the two of you stand in front of each other at the doorway, your fingers skillfully fixing the grey textured tie that matched his black suit.

“Maybe I am,” he answers, and you don’t see the playful smirk plastered on his face because you were too busy on fixing the garment. Even with heels on, you’re still shorter than him. And Kuroo loves that fact. He loves how he can see your brows furrow in seriousness. He loves the way your fingers move. He loves the domestic feeling the moment is exerting. Aside from seeing your face first thing in the morning, this is his favorite part of the morning.

“And it’s done.” You slide your palms over his shoulders and chest, flattening the creases of his suit. Your hands stop on his shoulders and you look up to him, smiling proudly. Kuroo leans down for a kiss which you gladly accepted.

Kuroo pulls back, but his hands are still on your hips, not allowing you to move away from him. “Thank you,” he tells as he stares at your face as if he is gazing at the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“What?” Unused to his stare, you giggle out of confusion. But he continues to stare. “If you’re just gonna stare at me, we’re both gonna be late for work.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything and leans back again to peck on the side of your mouth, barely touching your lips. Then, he proceeds to kiss your cheek. After that, he nibbles on your jaw. Next, his lips travel down to your neck and he gives a short but sensual kiss on the skin. His slowly graze from your neck going all the way to the back of your ear.

Meanwhile, your knees are getting weak and your brain is steaming inside. Your cheeks are burning up and you can feel the whole zoo in your stomach. He has that much impact on you. ‘This is too much for a Wednesday morning.’

You’re back to your senses when he plants one last kiss on the back of your ear before his breath fans over it.

“I love you,” Kuroo whispers.

——————————————————————————

Facts:

The tiger in the Aladdin film, Rajah, was originally a circus tiger as a cub, who found his way into the Sultan's palace after escaping the touring circus group during a visit to Agrabah. He was discovered by a then-young Princess Jasmine, who assumed the cub was a gift from her deceased mother.

Neckties were not originally used for the sense of fashion; they were so thick that not even a strong sword could penetrate it.

Neckties are the most famous gift given on Father’s Day

Those who collect ties are known as grabatologists

There are 177,147 ways in which you can tie and necktie.

It takes approximately 110 silk worms to make one high quality silk necktie.

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #hq smau #hq x reader #kuroo tetsuro smau #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo smau #kuroo x reader

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Filthy Fucking Pet

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which Jax Teller owns and abuses you like an actual animal… this shit is mad intense lol and Jax is an absolute alpha male asshole. **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dom!Jax, extreme degradation/dehumanization (master/pet kink, sweat kink, foot worship, ass worship, Jax humiliates you to the max, realistically this is not at all a healthy relationship) Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~2.6k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

Seriously, this shit is super savage and sick and twisted. You’re basically Jax Teller’s personal house pet. In addition to kinky stuff like rimming and the general vibe of extreme submission, this is also the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr that features foot worshiping (I swear I have no interest in feet irl really – as with pretty much all of the kinks in my kinkiest fics honestly, it’s just a theoretical fantasy that I have only for Charlie, and only in theory… since theoretically I have no limits with my sex god king…)

Anywhore, enough ado about nothing! 🙃 All of the kinks in this fic are mentioned in the above warnings, so please just be mindful of them before you jump in…

***************

You used to be human. But now... it feels as if you've never been.

From the day you and Jackson first met, way back when, you had fallen in love with the crown prince. Fallen to your knees to serve him as his bitch and that's all you have been ever since. Pleasing him is your business. You're his little whore, and his personal pet: nothing more, nothing less.

Anything but human honestly. You're whatever Jax Teller wants you to be. His kinky sex kitten, his filthy fuckpig, or his damn dirty dog on a leash. It's the best. You don't speak, you don't eat—not human food, at least—you just serve at his feet. This is your whole existence. And God, you feel so fucking blessed.

You spend all your days in his house, day in and day out. The castle of the king of Charming. It's such a gift just to live under the same roof as him. Whenever he's not home, you miss him so badly it hurts. But you keep yourself busy by doing the housework. Constantly crawling on all fours, you use your grubby paws to scrub the floor, and sweep the dust off of his furniture.

Then once you're done with all your chores, you kneel down by the front door, and wait desperately for your master. Just counting the seconds until he returns.

Every time that it happens, the moment you hear the smooth roar of the engine as his bike gets in... then his powerful footsteps approaching the entrance... your heart starts to beat harder, faster. On fire in the presence of Jax. There is always a butt plug stuck deep in your ass, with a big fluffy fake tail attached. You're otherwise naked except for your collar and tags.

And today, as your master comes home after quite a long time far away, you are happier than you can take—your whole body quivers and quakes, and your tail starts to wag.

When Jax finally walks in, you gaze up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. He's so damn beautiful you could cry. You yelp and whimper a few times in greeting, to express how excited you are to be seeing your king. By now your human brain has certainly stopped working. Your hungry tongue hangs from your open mouth, breathing needy and loud, as subhuman growls and thick gobs of drool keep spilling out.

He smiles down at you as he enters, worn out from a long day of being Jax Teller, the baddest motherfucker ever. He must be exhausted, no doubt.

But still his gorgeous grin is big and genuine, bright as the sun, his slicked hair such a brilliant blonde, eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean. Clearly pleased at the sight of your tail-wagging motion, a signal of your pure devotion.

"Happy to see me?" he teases playfully, as if he has to ask. Typical Jax.

You nod gleefully in response to that. Your perfect master reaches down to pat your head, stroking your hair now as you purr for him, showing how much you adore him, as his faithful little pet.

"That's a good slut," he coos. "Go on, you know what to do."

Lowering your face to the ground, as ever eager to go down, upon those words he speaks, you hurry to remove his shoes. Those famously white sneaks. Then tug his socks off with your teeth—damp with a long day's worth of sweat, getting you drunk on his intoxicating scent, the pure essence of Jackson—then press sloppy kisses all over his beautiful feet. Servicing him like this is everything you need.

Ugh, you've missed him so much... full of love and submission, arousal dripping from your crotch, you stuff his socks into your mouth both at once, then lift your face off of the floor and sit back on your heels in your usual kneeling position. Your paws are propped under your chin as you blink up at him. He knows just what you want.

"Look at you, cunt. You wanna play fetch?" he says, chuckling as you bob your dumb head eagerly up and down. It's so much fun when he rolls his sweaty socks into a ball and throws it all over the house, for you to chase around. Playing that game is such a privilege. "Hmm, I would... but I'm not in the mood. Master's too fucking tired. Too bad for you, bitch."

Aw. Too bad indeed. Wallowing in self-pity, you pout and hang your head in a deep bow, but you know better than to plead. He turns to walk away now, and you follow at his feet. Crawling as you are it's always hard to keep up with his speed.

He's yawning by the time you reach the master bedroom. Some nights he has more energy when he gets home. Sometimes he'd slam you up against the wall and fuck you hard in every hole, wild and savage as an animal, filling you with his thick creamy cum, so deliciously full...

Apparently not tonight, though. You can't blame him, you know. You can't blame Jackson Teller for any damn thing, to be honest. Of course not. Because he is your fucking king. Whatever he does, he's your master, your god; everything about his whole existence is flawless.

You watch in rapture as he strips naked, carelessly flinging his kutte and the rest of his clothes to the floor, and flops facedown in bed to lay his weary head to rest. Fit for the king he is, his bed is big and plush and luxurious. At this late hour, he's too tired to even bother with a shower, you notice. Fuck yes—that's how you like it best.

Hopefully he'll let you use your tongue to clean up all his glorious sweat. Then whenever he leaves next to take care of business, you'll still get to savor his scent in his absence, inhaling it off of the sheets and the mattress. Your thirsty mouth is watering just at the thought of it, as you scurry all over the bedroom to clean up his mess.

Gathering up all the clothes that he scattered, you can't help but take a deep breath. Inhaling the essence of this sinfully sexy bastard.

You indulge in a whiff, as you slobber and sniff—focusing on the pits of his shirt so damp and sweaty it's obscene, and the rich-smelling crotch of his jeans, soaking up all the musk of his cock and his balls and his ass which smells so good it hurts—and especially his underwear... before dutifully dropping them into the hamper, along with the socks that you brought from downstairs. Though you hate washing Jax's sweet scent off of anything, one of your chores, of course, is to take care of all the laundry for your master.

"Get over here, bitch. You should clean up after me faster," he scolds, dominant voice husky and low, somewhat muffled as his head is partially sunken into one of his deluxe pillows. "Did you just get distracted by sniffing my sweat? You're such a greedy, filthy fucking pet."

You instantly start whimpering in apology, overflowing with self-hatred as you hasten toward the foot of his bed. You would say sorry, in so many words, if you could, as you should.

But you can't, given that you're not human. And your master knows that of course. All you want is to worship his body, and show him you're sorry, but you need permission before you can move from your place on the floor...

"Crawl up onto the bed," he commands, well assured you will follow his orders as fast as you can. "Go ahead, you pathetic whore. Make yourself useful and worship my back. Can't you see I'm exhausted and need to relax?"

Oh, how you love when he lets out his inner beast and treats you to the absolute most savage side of Jax.

Though you also love when he is soft, when he treats you with sweet talk and cuddles you up... this is the side of him you adore even more. His abuse is just what you live for.

"I want a full body massage," he orders, as you set to work on his muscular shoulders. "Yeah, use those paws. And that dirty mouth of yours... so dirty... mmm, that's it, lick all the sweat off my body. Desperate fucking dog."

You don't need him to tell you—that is exactly what you're dying to do—but it's so much better when he does. So damn hot. It's insane just how much you get off on his dirty talk.

And he keeps going on as you worship his perfect physique. While your hands rub and knead every inch, your mouth traces a line down the smooth divine curve of his spine, running down the black ink of the reaper design, wet lips puckering into passionate kisses all over his dewy skin, slurping up each new bead of fresh sweat as it dribbles and leaks. Every so often, his degrading words and his delicious groans of pleasure cut to cruel sadistic laughter, whenever he wants to humiliate you for being such a freak.

That just makes you love him even more. You're his subhuman whore, reduced into a literal pig as the maddening scent and flavor of your master makes you fucking squirm, wriggling like a worm, every sound out of your throat a squeal or a squeak. His savage strength makes you so weak...

"Unghh God, you're such a fucking animal," he snarls as you salivate all over his sculpted muscles. "Get that worthless face lower down where you belong. Yeah, you know what you want. Suffocate in my asshole."

And that very instant, you do just as told. You wedge your whole damn head into the sacred space between his sweaty cheeks, diving in deep, digging for gold. It's salty and sweet and so so fucking hot. You don't even care whether you'll ever come up for air or not. He's everything you need and all you want to breathe. Your king Jax Teller is a motherfucking god...

When he growls and reaches back with both of his strong hands to push his palms against your skull and smash your face even deeper inside his crack, the pure aggression of the act gives you a goddamn heart attack.

Before you can even recover from that, he suddenly shifts—you gasp for a split second as his magnificent body lifts.

But the next thing you know, he is squatting low over your mouth, then sitting the fuck down till your tongue is lodged deep in his tight sweaty hole and his big heavy balls are completely smothering your snout.

Jax throws his head back with a guttural groan as he starts to grind, taking your mouth for a ride. You could die just from that fucking sound, from the taste, from the feel of his full body weight as he shudders and sighs, dominating your face. Degrading you just right. You could do this all night. Then he looks back down, bright blue gaze locking with your eyes, open wide, sex-crazed and lost in a mad loving daze.

Is this fucking real? Even as it happens, you honestly can't fathom how good it feels...

And there's no way that you wouldn't notice, in this position of pure bliss, your master's fucking enormous cock. While you drown in his ass, savoring your sweet feast, that massive piece of meat is throbbing right above you like a beast, hard as a rock.

"Fuuuck, that's it—eat my ass, you good-for-nothing pig..." Jax explosively grunts as his hot sphincter squeezes and strangles your tongue. "Look what you're doing to my dick. You're gonna make me fucking cum. That what you want?"

Ohhh Godddd...

He goes on before you can respond. "Well, that's just what you're gonna get. Ughh—such a good little pet..." he praises as he begins pumping himself, the pink tip of his dick giving off the rich scent of his juices, each sweet drop that glistens, all glossy and wet. Some of his precum drips to your forehead.

But that's not where his full load is going to land. No, that's all gonna go down your dirty whore throat. Jax then clutches the top of your head with one hand, fingers rooting hard into your scalp, making you gulp and gasp, as you suck on his ass, while his other fist jacks off his perfect dick, faster and harder with each fucking stroke. He's so hot it's a joke.

"Shit—gonna cum—take it, bitch... take it all till you choke..." he moans, pulling his ass swiftly off of your slobbering lips and then pressing the tip of his cock onto your twitching tongue. Blessing you with a huge load of sweet white hot cum. By this point you're struck dumb.

You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as you savor his flavor and swallow him whole. You are so goddamn grateful. Jackson Teller is feeding your body, your heart and your soul.

You're reminded right now of what you've always known: that you are his to own. He is more than human, so much more, all that you live for... and you are so much less and always have been. Falling in these roles just feels so fucking natural. He is a fucking god—everything you are not—and you're a fucking animal.

Once he is done using you as his subhuman cum dump, your master is gracious enough to let you clean him up. You wrap your lips around his flawless cock to lick and suck off every drop. Pressing French kisses all across his freshly drained balls and his perfect pink asshole. Hoping that your beloved master knows he's your entire world.

"Good girl," Jax sighs, as your face nestles in the space between his strong powerful thighs. "Bet you wish you could sleep with me here in this bed. But that would be wrong. Don't you know where you belong, you filthy little pet?"

Ah, yes—you could never forget. With a whimper of submissive bliss, you give your master one last kiss, right on the tip of his delicious dick. Admiring how even right after he came it’s still so stiff and throbbing and thick.

And then you climb off of his mattress and crawl into your tiny pet bed, set right by his nightstand. The spot where you're so blessed to sleep beside this divine god of a man. You curl yourself up nice and small, into a little ball, so you can fit. And all the while you're still squealing like a pig. You just can't help it.

The king of Charming huffs out one of his majestic snickers at the sound of you grunting and groveling, so low-down and pathetic. "Goodnight, pig."

Your heart flutters—so grateful and glad that he calls you that, just what you are to him, always will be... so fucking filthy... you know that he is pleased, and his pleasure is all that matters.

You already can't wait till the morning when he'll let you drink from his dick, hopefully. But till then you'll just sleep, knowing that all your dreams will be sweet, for you dream of one thing only: pleasing your master.

And you're living that dream, as unreal as it seems. Your real life is as good as it gets.

You'll go on forever loving every minute of living with Jax Teller—living for Jax Teller, now and forever—as his filthy fucking pet.

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bee.writes

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