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saintsugu · 7 months

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BROTHERLY LOVE. KINKTOBER DAY 1

rating: Mature; mdni

pairing: Step-brother!Megumi x reader

word count: 3.6k

contents: step/pseudo cest, heavy dub con, manipulation from megumi, megumi’s obsessed with purity, rich boy!megumi, vouyerism, masturbation, no prep, slight choking and coercion from yuuta at the end, megumi’s referred to mostly as reader’s brother.

author’s note: first thing i’ve fully written in over a year and it’s a kinktober post…😵‍💫 thank you to all the lovely people who beta’d this for me<3 @dilfhos @iwaasfairy @bunparade

You hear shuffling on the other end, presumably as he gets up to get the door for you.

Taking advantage of his three day weekend, Megumi invited you to spend the themat his apartment off-campus. You haven’t been able to see him much since the start of the semester, so you were glad to take him up on his offer.

You’d only met Megumi three years ago, the night his father and your mother announced their…impromptu engagement. Neither of you were really thrilled, but the entire situation was brightened infinitely when you started to get to know your soon-to-be step brother.

He was always so sweet to you. He would take you out for food, or on shopping sprees— using his daddy’s card to buy you whatever you so much as glanced at. A lot of the time, it was just the two of you at home and he always made sure you weren’t lonely. Honestly, he spoiled you rotten, so how could you be upset with the arrangement?

Toji, though, was a bit…off-putting. He was a lot meaner than his son. You would hear him make comments about how ditzy you were, and it hurt a lot. Thankfully, Megumi was always there to cheer you up.

You were so upset when he started university. He only visited on the holidays— sometimes not even then. The house felt so empty. You couldn’t help but miss your big brother. So when he came back for the summer, you were beyond grateful. Suddenly, your schedule was full again as the two of you spent every second together.

Naturally, you were overjoyed when he reached out. Life was getting boring just staying at home, and besides, you just missed him so much. School had never really been your thing, so you didn’t follow your step-brother to college— despite wanting to —and your step-father was kind enough to let you live at home for free, so you didn’t work a job. It was a mostly stress-free life, but without your brother around, it’d gotten a bit…dull.

When he called you, you were quick to throw a few outfits in a suitcase and catch the soonest train. You made sure to leave a scribbled little note for your mother to inform her of your whereabouts before taking off.

The train ride is hellishly long, but it’s all worth it when you see your step brother outside the door. He’s smiling warmly, wearing a sweater and some gray sweats as he greets you.

“Hey,” he’s quick to pull you into his arms. He smells good— like freshly sprayed cologne with hints of cedar and vanilla. You’re far too enthralled by his warmth to notice his hands creeping down a little further than warranted, or the way he lifts up the hem of your skirt, his dick twitching a bit as he takes note of your panties. “Come on in.”

The second you step foot into the spacious apartment, you’re met with a pungent smell. It’s so strong that it makes your nose scrunch up. You’ve smelled it before— at a few different parties, but why is it in your brother’s apartment?

“Sorry about the smell. My friends were just here a bit ago.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the red tint of his eyes is more than enough to prove that he was indulging, too.

You spend the afternoon catching up with Megumi, listening intently as he tells you censored versions of what he’s been up to. He can tell how starstruck you are as you listen with bated breath. It might make him sick, but he loves how you’ve always hung off his every word.

Ever since he was young, Megumi has watched his father go through women like they were nothing more than objects. The same rang true for the friends he started to gain in high school, and it wasn’t just the boys. He found that all of the girls were quite…promiscuous.

He never thought there was anything necessarily wrong with it— until he met his sweet little step-sister, that is.

That night at dinner, you were just so kind, nothing at all like the girls at his private school. They were all snobby and too good for him, but you, you were perfect; you are perfect. You’ve always been so malleable and kind hearted. He knew from the first time you went to get ice cream in his Cadillac, the way you apologized until there were tears filling your sweet eyes over a bit of spilled sprinkles. God, you’ve had him wrapped around your dainty little finger from the moment he met you.

“I was thinking we could go to brunch tomorrow.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch as he leans back, his ankle coming up to drape across his other knee. On cue, you pad over from where you are in his kitchen, plopping down right next to him. “There’s a cute little joint nearby that I know you’ll love.”

His kind words warm your chest, making your cheeks rise into a smile. He’s always looking out for you or thinking of you. He’s even sent you a few dresses while he’s been away! They’re a bit….small, but you figure he just got your sizing wrong. Either way, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Tonight, though, I was wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends. They were all excited when I told them you were visiting.” Too excited for Megumi’s liking. “It won’t be a lot, just three or four guys coming over for a bit. Only if you want, though.” Even before you answer, he knows that you’ll say yes. You’d never deny him anything, but it makes him look good if he gives you an out.

“Oh that’ll be fun!” You grin innocently. “We can watch movies.”

God, he loves the way you beam at him. Your innocence is such a refresher. But, as much as he loves it, you also make him want to tear it away from you before anyone else can. Sometimes, he just wants to break you down and build you back up from scratch. He knows it’s sick— that he shouldn’t feel like this towards his supposed sister, but he can’t help it. It’s just the way his mind works.

As the clock starts to slip into the evening hours, there are continuous knocks at his front door, all one after another. Yuuji Itadori is the first to arrive. You’ve met him once before, during Thanksgiving break when Megumi brought him along. His rambunctious voice and laugh fills the air of Megumi’s, otherwise, stale apartment. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips when Yuuji slaps your step-brother on the back a little too hard, causing him to swear in pain and you both laugh at the scowl he shoots his way.

Yuuji is quickly followed by Kokichi Muta. He’s much more timid in comparison. It’s a bit…confusing when you notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks when he lays eyes on you.

Next, Noritoshi Kamo, and lastly— and arguably the most important out of the four— Yuuta Okkotsu.

Megumi has been trying to find himself in Yuuta’s good graces since his first semester of his freshman year. Not only is Yuuta two grades his senior, but he’s the vice president of the fraternity Megumi has been wanting to rush since his junior year of high school.

Megumi’s kind enough to introduce you to his friends, but you can feel your cheeks heat up when their eyes linger for a little longer than you’d expect. They all make themselves comfortable on the two couches, hands wrapped around the beer’s bottleneck while they snicker amongst themselves. You’ve been keeping Megumi company in the kitchen, but not paying enough attention to notice the amount of drinks he had brought to the couch. When he finally sits down, you’re close behind him.

“Here, have some,” he opens the bottle of beer and hands it to you, despite the confused look on your face. He knows you don’t drink, but he also knows that means your tolerance is nonexistent and that it's going to make his life a lot easier.

Any words of rebuttal get stuck in your throat. Your eyebrows pull into a frown, but you sheepishly take the drink anyway. You don’t like being intoxicated; Megumi calls it an irrational fear, but you can’t help it. The drink feels foreign in your hands, but he’d never do anything to hurt you, right?

Despite the sour taste of the beer, you swallow it anyway. You don’t want to embarrass Megumi by acting like a fool in front of his friends. Yuuji starts a conversation and soon enough, you’ve finished the bottle. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied running your mouth to notice when Megumi sets another in your hand, and you obediently continue sipping.

You don’t even know how many you’ve downed by the time you pause and realize your head feels dizzy. Megumi finds it adorable— the way your face flushes and your words start to slur. You try and fail to whisper to him about how tired you are, and it earns a snicker from Yuuta. Good, he thinks. I need to keep his attention.

“C’mere.” You don’t think much when Megumi pats his lap. Your movements are much more sluggish and there’s a surge of warmth in your chest that you can’t quite place as you climb onto him, nuzzling your head into his neck. Everything feels so overwhelming, especially when you hear his friend whistle. You don’t know why, and you’re too out of it to ask or even guess why. Little do you know, it’s because your tiny skirt has been flipped up for everyone to get a glimpse of your ass.

“Shit, y’gonna share, right?” There’s a nasty grin on Noritoshi’s face as he takes a long sip from his beer.

“You wish,” Megumi mumbles lowly, a dark and possessive tone underlying his seemingly nonchalant words. Strong hands slide down your body before landing on your hips. “Hey, pretty.” His voice is just a whisper, but you know that he’s talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘Gumi?” You ask sweetly. He loves when you call him that. Despite it just being a variation of his name, he finds it so fucking adorable that his cock jumps in his pants every time he hears it.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” He feels you nod and he can’t help but smile at how pliant and ready you are to please him. “Nothing new,” he whispers, and you can’t help but shiver a bit.

“We’re just gonna do what we usually do—play how we do when it’s just us,” a soft hand traces hearts on your bare thigh. “And we’re gonna pretend like my friends aren’t here, okay?”

What?

This all feels…weird, and a little scary. But you know that your big brother would never hurt you— of course not! But what if he’s friends with bad men and doesn’t know it? What if…what if something goes wrong?

His words confuse you. Usually, when you’re playing together in the way he means, he always tells you not to do it with anyone else, that it should be reserved for your brother only, so why is he changing his mind?

“I asked a question, baby.” His once soft touch turns firmer until you squeak out an unsure okay, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Y’always so good for me.”

You’re no longer able to think about how anxious and unsure you are as your step-brother pulls you into a soft kiss. Soon, he’s filling up every one of your senses. He’s the only thing you can feel, smell, or hear, and it’s nearly suffocating.

It’s simple, really. He knows every single thing that turns you on and drives you insane; hell, he created those things. When you met, you were a virgin who didn’t even know what oral was.

Despite his overwhelming touches, your attention isn’t stuck on him. His friends are all slumped back on the couch and staring straight at you. Their gazes make you feel trapped. There’s a tightening in your chest before Megumi's stern voice breaks you out of your trance. “Don’t look at them,” he scolds, a soft hand redirecting your jaw. “C’mon, baby, look at me.”

Nothing in the world can get him as hard as he is when he sees that look on your face—those big, near tearful eyes that are just begging for him to make it all better.

As much as he wants to take care of you, there’s still a part of him, a sick and twisted part of him that sits right beneath the surface, too deep down to ignore. That's what’s making him do this. Megumi believes that these feelings can only be attributed to his father’s genetics. It’s not his fault that he wants to ruin you. He knows someone will take advantage of your naivety one day, so why can’t it be him? He deserves that much, doesn’t he?

“You know I’d never hurt you.” You wouldn’t know the difference, he thinks to himself. You look so worried, but he can’t figure out why. Most of the time, there’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, so what’s running through it now? Honestly, he doesn’t care too much; instead, his hand continues to slide down your back with no regard for your anxiety.

Despite his words, he can tell you’re anxious. It irritates him a bit, but instead of letting it show, he just leans back against the couch. “Go ahead, baby. Take that shirt off for me.” The thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh encourages you.

Your throat feels dry as your big brother puts you on the spot. Nerves shoot through your body at the mere prospect of upsetting him. The thought of him being disappointed in you is a quick way to get your shaky hands pulling at your skimpy tank top.

Manicured nails tug at the hem of it, eyes trained only on Megumi as you pull it over your head. The air feels bitter when it hits your skin but heat from Megumi’s burning gaze warms you.

“Good girl.” His praise makes you melt, especially with all that booze in your system. You can’t even remember how much he had you drink. Every time you even began to try and protest, he would just press the rim to your lips and tell you to drink.

A hand on your waist pulls you in, and it’s not long before he has his tongue halfway down your throat. You’re so overwhelmed with simply trying to breathe that you don’t see Megumi pull his cock out. It’s already hard— pretty much has been since you arrived, and he’s not at all sly as he pulls your panties to the side.

In contrast to yours that are screwed shut, his eyes are wide as they meet with Yuuta. Fuck, Yuuta’s gaze is piercing. It’s so clear that he’s judging him. Yuuta is leaning back into the cushion, his ankle crossed over his leg and his expression reads as if he’s bored. And that only spurs Megumi on further. He’s so desperate to show off in front of the man.

He won’t admit it, but he’s had a slight crush on the man since he started University; honestly, it’s evident in the way his cock pulses simply from Yuuta’s judgemental stare.

“G-Gumi..!” You gasp into his open lips, taken completely off guard. In the past, he’s always talked you through it. He would make sure you were prepped thoroughly before trying to nestle deep inside of you. Now, though, you can’t help but feel he’s being mean as he lifts your hips, just to force you down on his cock.

“Shit,” Noritoshi laughs, palming himself through his sweats. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Fushiguro.” His words earn a disgruntled scowl from Megumi. In turn, you feel his hands grip you impossibly tighter, as if he’s visibly laying claim to you.

He ignores his taunts, far too focused on his baby sister’s sweet and tight cunt. Fuck, it’s tighter than he remembers. Knowing you, you never did so much as finger yourself while he’s been away. This past summer, he told you that he’d know if you had. Thankfully for him, you were naive enough to believe him.

Soon enough, you’re tucked against his chest as he grinds you over his cock. You squeeze the fabric of his shirt between dainty hands; your hold is so tight he’s worried the threads will snap. The shirt’s quite expensive, so he should care about you potentially ruining it, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s balls deep inside of you.

A vicious grin finds his face when he takes in the state of his apartment. Noritoshi and Kokichi shamelessly have their cocks out, jacking off lazily to the sight in front of them. Yuuji, on the other hand, takes a more…reserved approach. His lip is tucked between his teeth, nearly quivering as he not-so-discreetly palms his painfully hard cock.

As you near your orgasm, Megumi takes advantage of your fucked out state. Usually, he’s so sweet and gentle, but tonight, he can’t help but be a little rough as he forces you into a new position. He manhandles you until you’re face down, with your tits pressed into the glass table.

As much as he loves your tits, Megumi’s always been a sucker for this angle. With his hands having free reign of your ass, he could never get tired of the view.

You’re pulled out of your near orgasmic high and thrown into the reality of who’s watching. “I-I…” you stammer nervously, still whimpering as Megumi fucks into you.

“Hey, pretty,” Noritoshi teases, leaning in slightly. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to deny his accusation. “‘Gumi says ‘m a good girl…” you turn your head to look at your big brother. “…right, ‘Gumi?”

“Yeah, you are.” He’s groaning as his pace picks up, making your toes curl as you grip onto nothing. He’s fighting back the urge to cum with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your eyes roll when he hits deep inside of you—the sight is something straight out of a porno as your tits slide against the glass surface. All you have on is a skimpy little bralette, one that any of these guys could snap with ease. With your tongue lolling out, every single guy in the room, with Yuuta being the exception, is groaning and pumping just a bit faster.

Yuuta, on the other hand, is just watching. Not once as he adjusted himself or even re-situated on the couch. He almost looks…bored, and that worries Megumi beyond belief.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, y’gotta let me get in on this. At least let me take her throat or something.” All Noritoshi’s doing is running his mouth and it’s starting to get on his nerves. In no world is he letting any of these vile men get their greedy hands on his baby sister. You’re too pure for that.

“Be quiet,” he snaps, rough hands tugging at the fat of your hips. His eyes cut at his friend, a sinister look in them. The boy backs off, if only for now as Megumi gets closer to his high.

You feel something brewing in your lower stomach. It’s not unfamiliar— you only get it with Megumi, but it’s more…intense this time. Instead of the slow and gentle buildup you usually get, this time it’s hurtling at you.

“Gumi,” you stammer out, eyes still rolling as your acrylics scrape at the table. “D-don’t know what’s happening….!”

He’s quick to shush you. The last thing he needs is your whining ruining his orgasm. “‘S okay, baby,” he purrs, a firm hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you cheek-first into the glass. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

His pace grows erratic with his approaching orgasm being so close. His dick pulses inside of you and with one last groan, he pushes deep inside of you as his orgasm washes over.

His entire body shivers in its wake, and that feeling is only amplified when you start to twitch as well. Your cunt grows impossibly tight as your pleasure peaks, and your walls milk him of every drop of his cum— so much so, that it’s starting to leak out and drip down your inner thighs.

“Good girl.” He’s completely out of breath, but he knows the praise is what you need. The small sobs and hiccups that escape your lips are clear indicators of the praise you’ll need from your big brother. “Did so good, baby…”

A soft hand traces up and down your body and he can’t help but feel a little smug when he sees that three out of the four men came as well— Yuuji, unfortunately in his pants.

But that’s only three, he realizes. It seems that Yuuta disappeared between now and right before his orgasm hit. Where could he have gone—

“That was good.” His voice is low in Megumi’s ear as he leans over the couch. Megumi freezes and he swears that the hairs on his neck stand up. His nearly soft cock twitches a bit at the praise.

“Now why don’t you let me have a try and I’ll see what I can do about extending a bid.”

tagging: @pussydrunkfyodor @kkittycries @saintriots @chaoticmoonave @enchantedforest-network

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #.kinktober 2023 #tw stepcest #.ezra’s writing #.file } megumi

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devotedtosadpoetry · 3 months

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Sorry I'm Stockholm - An AU Crossover

Like the title? hehehehe~

Very grateful I’m able to take part in the @tmntaucompetition and I have the honor to be matched up with @gemini-forest, whose art style and characters I adore <3 While my writing is normally grim and takes a serious note, I wanted to write a more silly setting where all characters have fun (in their own way) ((plus I was researching what other writers have done for crossovers and all of them fall on the silly side and I agree silly is def the best route to take for this))

Now, the theme is any time period before 1920s, and I couldn’t help but think what could be more sillier than them facing off in the colosseum GLADIATOR STYLE:

(tw for mentioning of Stockholm syndrome, showing of a feral traumatized Leo, bad jokes ((I’m trying guys, really)), fourth wall breaks, and sweet gushy moments between lovers that may be overloading on cuteness so mentally prepare yourself)

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Screams for a fight, blood, a win, and a loss closed in around Donatello, his hands hovered to his headphones, eye twitching. “If I was real I would blow Poet up with uranium for this.”

Mikey jumped up and down over the ledge, looking over the colosseum with a giddiness only the youngest sibling could hold. “I’m not worried about it. It’s a break from the storyline, right? Maybe Leo will have fun too.”

“By fighting in the colosseum?” Raph said. “Yeah. As if he can’t get enough of fighting. Thanks a lot POET!”

*The author ignores Raphael’s comment and urges Michelangelo to speak*

“Oh!” Mikey said. “Do we know who he’s going against?”

Donnie lowered his goggles and zoomed in at the group directly on the opposite end, waving flags and cheering. Their version of Splinter and Casey Jr and April and an older Mikey and Raph and Donnie was there, and… “I don’t recognize some of those—”

“Yoink!” Mikey snapped off his goggles and put them on. “Oh, I spoke with them earlier! That’s Francis, Raph’s partner. And that’s Aiden, Michelangelo’s husband.”

Raph whirled Mikey around simultaneously as Donnie snatched his goggles back. “You’re gay?”

Mikey raised his hands in surrender. “This is the first I’ve heard of it!” He hesitated, then tapped his chin. “Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Raph howled.

Mikey shrugged. “I don’t know! I’ve been busy!”

“They’re holding signs up for Leo,” Donnie said. “I don’t think they’re cheering for ours, though.”

Mikey melted in his seat. “Awww. Wish we made signs. I think that would’ve cheered Leo up a little.”

The roars of the crowds filled the silence between them, Donnie winced. “This crowd definitely won’t be overstimulating and overwhelming for Leo to the point where he’ll go on a killing rampage, right?”

Sweat ran down all of their necks as the announcer called for everyone’s attention. Screaming louder than before made even Raph flinch. “First into the ring, all the way from Stockholm, Spain is Leonardo!”

Donnie gritted his teeth. “One, Stockholm is in Sweden, not Spain. How do you mix that up? And second, he isn’t from Stockholm he has Stockholm Syndrome does this announcer even—”

Raph pulled him back down to his seat—he didn’t realize he stood up. “Donnie! Calm down, everyone will probably forget about this in a couple minutes anyways. It looks like the crowd is too drunk to even hear the announcer.”

Nearby, a rabbit yokai Donnie recognized as Yuichi from another alternate universe toppled face first, still pulling out a thumbs up.

As the gate lifted, metal rattling and clanging against metal, Leo crawled out on all fours, whining and shaking his head at the sounds. He frothed at the mouth, looked around either for something familiar, or a fight to pick.

***

Jayden tightened the last leather strap and smirked at their handy work. “There,” they said. “You look good.”

Leo stood in full gladiator armor, complete with a helmet that had a red tail swinging from it. It looked good with his red markings. He swished the tail from the helmet back. “I still like my cowboy outfit better.” Smirking, he pulled Jayden in for a kiss. They leaned into it, sighing against him. They rubbed their belly in thought, and Leo leaned down. “You’re not worried for me?”

Jayden smiled back. “Well—”

The gate across from them opened, and out came a creature—no—it was a younger version of Leo. He walked on all fours and behaved like a…like a feral animal. It was hard to watch. He was thin and covered in scars—he looked frail and in need of help. He shouldn’t be fighting. Jayden turned to Leo, who watched with wide eyes. “That…that’s not what I was expecting…”

Jayden looked back at the young, tormented Leo. This wasn’t right.

Determination filled them, body and soul, and they faced their Blueberry with an open palm. “Give me your helmet.”

Leo stepped back. “Jayd, don’t think you’re going out there. You’re pregnant.”

Jayden slammed their foot down. “You’re not fighting yourself, now give me your helmet!” Then they smiled. The smile that Leo fell for, the smile he always longed to see. “I have a plan, Blueberry.”

He looked doubtful, looking back to the snarling version of himself, then sighed, handing the helmet over. “I don’t know what your plan is, but…I trust you.”

They took the heavy helmet with a grateful grin. Leo leaned down for one last kiss as their own metal gate pulled up. The announcer’s booming voice said, “Coming from Sorry I’m Late is Leo—”

Jayden stepped out, pregnant belly on full display, but they were proud in their helmet. They stepped into the sunlight and placed their hands on their hips, ever confident and sure of themselves.

“—nardo—what’s this? It’s Leo’s partner, Jayden!”

“Whoo!”

Jayden looked behind and waved to the family, Casey Jr clapped and yelled, “Go, Bapa!”

The signs they held up for Leo flipped around and said Jayden’s name, as though they foresaw this happening. The young Leo, apparently from Stockholm (he didn’t look Swedish?) saw them and flinched, pupils thinning. He hissed, sharp teeth flashing, and Jayden raised their hands. “You don’t know me,” they murmured. Leo circled them, claws digging into the dirt. When they took a step forward, they snarled, clicking in distress. Jayden smiled. “But I… kind of know you.” Jayden bent down on their knees, arms wide. “And… I know you don’t want this.”

He looked surprised, hesitant, and sniffed the air. He crept towards them, flinching at the slightest twitch of their fingers and hissing, but then came creeping back. His skittish behavior went on for minutes, but they were patient. He made it all the way to the tip of their fingers. He sniffed them, he looked at their eyes. His pupils were so thin, the scarring around his eyes were so wrong, and they recognized markings around his limbs were remnants of krang tentacles. Shivering, Jayden dared to brush their fingers against his cheek. Leo flinched, a warning growl in his throat. “It’s okay,” they murmured. They let him come on his own time, and when sniffing and stepping forward again, he brushed his face against their hand. They rested both hands against his cheeks. Laughing, they opened their arms to see if Leo wanted a hug. “See? Not so bad, huh?”

Leo suddenly flopped down onto their legs and sprawled, churring and nestling his head against their stomach, feeling the small kick of little Annie inside. The announcer suddenly said, “And the winner is Jayden!”

Jayden’s ear twitched. “Huh? But I didn’t…” They looked back at their own Leo, their beloved Blueberry, who stood behind the gate with crossed arms, but smiling. He had tears in his eyes. Smiling back, Jayden looked back down at the small and fragile Leo, just a teenager, and rested their hand on his head. “Ah…it’s fine.”

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You decide which Yuichi it was who got too drunk lol. Also I knew putting Jayden in a gladiator helmet was the correct move to make they would look so cute with it on ;0; They're such a wholesome character, I knew Stockholm Leo would fall at their feet and worship them the moment they met. I hope your characters were accurate enough @gemini-forest, I did a bunch of research before going into it <3

#rottmnt #down with the stockholm #sil au #rottmnt sorry I'm late au #writer #fanfic #leonardo angst #rottmnt fanfic #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #tmnt au competition #rottmnt au #rottmnt angst #crossover #crossover au

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riddler-green · 1 year

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Could I request a riddler/ reader w/ a reader who likes to draw him pls 🙏🙏 like as a gift or even just keeps and he finds them in their studio and realises his face is littered along their portfolio like a thoughtfully crafted tapestry and testament of their love or something corny like that I love the idea of a reader who’s just awe strikingly in love and him the same it’s so sweet WAAA but u can do whatever w/ the idea of artist/riddler ur so cool Ty <333

Mi musa.

Summary: you are an artist with your own habits but you never forget who your true muse is.

A/N: hey hiii! it's me again! thanks so much for the request! I really appreciate it! and I hope you enjoy it, I love that Riddler/ artist concept too!1 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

Warning: possessiveness on the part of both, fluff!

Words: 1500.

Art can be a means to convey what you want to say when you don't have the words to get them out of your mouth, you have never proclaimed yourself as the best artist in the world, but for as long as you can remember others have recognized your talent, you are grateful for the compliments of others who find charm in your work when you only find things to improve.

Perfectionism is something that tortures you when you look at your own work, you know there are things to improve but somehow when you draw the man of your dreams it's the opposite. Sometimes they tend to be simple doodles on yellow post-its, sometimes you draw portraits worthy of hanging in renowned museums, when it comes to Edward, you always find solace. A calmness in painting is like a therapeutic remedy.

Edward couldn't stand the itch in his nose, he had to sneeze covering his nose with his shoulder, you stopped painting and looked at the palette in your hand "Sorry" Edward apologizes in a low voice but you can hear him, you move away from the canvas to look at him "No need to be completely still my love, it's okay" you inform him mixing different shades of brown to paint his hair.

Edward kept as still as possible even though he is only sitting on a chair with a dark blue background, he couldn't help but think that when he poses for you it reminds him of an ancient king asking his star painter to do a portrait of him to show his greatness and power. But he knows he is not a king, he is still a little incredulous how someone like him managed to date someone like you, someone who looks at him with so much admiration, so much love that lasts for hours, even when you are out of your studio and he is at his most unfavorable moments you still look at him with great esteem.

"I think I will have to add more red to your cheeks, they are too red" you joke behind the canvas, Edward laughs at the comment, maybe in the past he would have refused to even have his picture taken, as he didn't like the way he looked, but now, he poses in front of you naturally as it is not the first time you paint him.

He doesn't mind that your studio is full of paintings, sheets full of drawings of him, he found it beautiful and wonderful, he started to love himself with your paintings, he sees the beauty that you see in him "Some day you should draw yourself too" says Edward calmly looking everywhere in the studio without turning his head.

"I don't know, self-portraits are hard to do" you reply placing a brush in your mouth as you use a palette knife on the canvas "Although it's not impossible either".

Edward remains satisfied with the answer and is silent again, he feels so excited with the result of the painting, you always make it a masterpiece at the end in his opinion. He scribbled sometimes on his accounting sheets and on his crossword puzzle, he drew question marks, and sometimes he drew you, or well, a caricature version of you, when he showed it to you, you cried, without you knowing you already started sobbing, it's different when they draw you.

Edward catches a glimpse of a rather large picture with all the drawings he has given you as a gesture of love, all the drawings placed as a big collage and protected by glass, under the picture, there was a signature "Eddie's Drawings".

His cheeks ache for he adores that you appreciate him too, it never crossed your mind to judge his drawing skills, you always received the little pen doodles with love "I'm almost done" you speak to him and he makes a happy humming sound, for you, you could be posing for days if you wanted to.

Again he thinks again, deep in his heart he loves it when you proclaim that he is your only muse, not Bruce Wayne, not another rich guy who pays for your paintings, Edward Nashton of KMTJ brings out your creativity to make paintings non-stop.

"I hope it comes out well in this painting," he says and you switch brushes "You always come out beautiful Eddie" you assure him as if it's a no-brainer.

Edward stretches his legs a little when he notices you are putting down all the brushes "More than the plain Mona?" you laugh at his question "More than the plain monkey" you reply and call him over to come to see the painting.

"wow" is the first thing he says when he sees it is him with various mixtures of paints that make it look great, he stays a few minutes fascinated with the work while you finish putting away all the paints and utensils.

"Do you want to take it home?" you ask taking off your Machado apron of various paint textures and Edward nods his head buzzing with delight as he takes your hand.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Is it a cow?" you ask looking at the paper in front of you, when they came in from your study day Edward wanted to show you a drawing he did on his break from work "It's a dog" Edward clarifies pointing to the somewhat deformed figure of the dog "it's you and me and the dog we saw in the park" he explains his drawing as you look happily at the drawing, so proud of him.

"It's so cute!" you squeal with happiness placing the drawing on one of the walls of the room "I think I'll put it in my next collection" you speak to him lovingly as the two of you embrace, Gotham nights are usually cold, but when you're next to Eddie it seems like the whole apartment becomes warm.

"I would like you to attend my next Exhibition will you go, right?" the two of you look at each other face to face Edward keeps his eyes closed completely in love with the position they are in "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The presenter looked at you with respect, he was sitting next to you with several question cards waiting for the program to start, all the time your facial expression was serious.

When the program started the presenter began with a charismatic talk about your works "So, tell us, who is that man who is always in your paintings?" he let out the question with a curious tone the cameramen pointed to your face looking for a surprised expression from you, instead you answered naturally.

"He is my partner, Edward, we have been together for several years and I always fell in love with his way of being" you start talking with a formal tone "When I see something I love, I want to capture it in my paintings so it can be immortalized" you settle back in your seat placing your elbows on armrests.

"Before I was looking for perfection in my art, but now I achieved it without realizing it" the presenter remains static before your speech "perfection is when I look at the effort I put in each work and that it was worth it" you look at the camera in front of you "sometimes art can hurt us, but I decided to be happy painting the love of my life".

The presenter you forgot his name gave a few admiring claps as you took a sip of water. God, you just hope Edward watches the show.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

The man in clear glasses leapt towards you to hug you both standing outside the program set, the stoic countenance disappeared when you noticed your boyfriend, he squealed with joy for the program "God, how I love you!" he proclaims and before you could respond he kisses you on the lips, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment.

"Me too Eddie" you reply kissing him again, you remember hearing about Edward's past, you wish the people who hurt your muse would suffer the consequences of their actions.

"I think I have inspiration for another painting, but this time I need to buy a darker green" you comment smiling at him, Edward gets excited "what kind of green?".

"Mmmm" you pretended to think making a thoughtful sound "What color is the Riddler mask?".

Edward almost choked on his own saliva, in a few times you have painted him as the Riddler and that makes him get more excited "I um, I think, I can tell which gree-en it is" he stutters nervously.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

There were nights when Edward tried to draw you with canvas, and you happily posed while Edward mixed different tones that you could easily make a rainbow vomit, still, it was a dream for you to see him like that, you swear he looks so cool behind the canvas, you seriously consider buying him a beret to match his beautiful eyes.

When Edward finished he proudly showed you the artwork, someone else would say it was a perfect Picasso with the drawings barely repeatable but for you, it was the masterpiece of the century.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!

#paul dano x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #dano riddler x reader #requesthermosoprecioso!

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definitelynotshouting · 5 months

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Part 3!! This one's really long so i apologise 😭

"The hooks give lumbering chase, streams of water bleeding for the ocean"

- ooh. Firstly, the overall metaphor here is beautiful. Millions of streams and rivers that leas into the ocean, sustaining it yet so insignificant on their own. Grian's only tasting droplets of Mumbo's emotions. Leading on from the water imagery, what's there now is hiding behind a dam with the potential to be a torrent. "Bleeding *for*" highlights this, firstly with "bleeding" referencing how this sustains grian, and "for", directionally and prepositionally, is a reminder of where things are headed (these are the streams Grian is tasting, how long before he devours the ocean?) The word "lumbering" itself exacerbates this; "lumbering" is heavy, like crashing through undergrowth. It gives an impression of clumsiness, and strain. It's a reminder of how starved Grian is, and how his control only lasts so long.

-☀️

"Even half-starved, Grian had been stronger, and he'd delighted in it;"

- The "and he'd delighted in it" HURTS. He's trying to convince himself (and this instance, 'proving') that he will be fine in this state. Half-starved, he's still strong enough to pick his friends up to lovingly inconvenience them. He's even stronger than Mumbo! So that's enough to keep living like this, right? It'll all be fine!

-☀️

"A wave of unexpected heat wells in Grian’s eyes; abruptly, the careful veil of darkness is a blessing, concealing how his vision blurs, how his breaths shake with a new and quivering urgency. The vice around his lungs tightens, cinches shut, and Grian counts backward from ten, until the burn forces him into another shaky exhale."

- man. 🐴

- From my first ask, unreliable narrator-grian back at it: convinces himself his friends hate him and is surprised when they don't! Jokes aside though, fucking OUCH.

-☀️

"Because… it is. This is Grian, in all his splendid glory: a hideous gap in the fabric of the universe; a cold, bloated corpse still bleeding; a knife in the hands of murderers. Cut from a cloth woven of destruction, fear… Mumbo, with all this hapless hope, basks in the memory of nothing more than a tapestry of deceit."

- *gripping you by the shoulders reaction image*

- I just. wow :(((

- Theres so much in here to unpack, but ill try to be concise. 1) "a hideous gap in the fabric of the universe", in his creation, his life as a player was erased, memories taken and implanted into something so completely different. There is a life that once existed, and now it is "a gap", hidden in... something else? If you have someone else's memories are you them? Or just a version (a perversion, as i recall you said once). 2) "a cold, bloated corpse still breathing" woww.. firstly it's a reminder of how the player was erased, and he is simply piloting the "corpse" of someone elses memory. It's like reverse possession. Secondly, it's a testament to his current plan- how he sees himself as a dead man walking- counting the number of days he has left on one hand. 3) the "knife" and the "cloth": he was made by the Watchers to fill their ranks, and as much as he tries to convince himself he *isnt one of them*, that IS how he sees himself; no better than the beings that created him. 4) the Mumbo part. It wasn't all "a tapestry of deceit"!!! The love was real and it's STILL THERE

/POS,,,,, sun anon your commentary always hits. Im so so glad you liked this chapter so much-- its a little funny that the chap i was most worried about quality-wise this time around is the one that seems to be a huge hit with people. Everyone has left SUCH nice comments about it and im really grateful for how sweet everyone is ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 tysm, i love your analysis and commentary a TON, its genuinely a highlight of posting each chapter

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #compliments #you guys are all so nice to me im so.... /pos /pos #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#txt

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darsynia · 1 year

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Trust Fall | ch1 'Sunlight'

(MCU, Tony/OC 'terrorists made us fall in love,' IM1 timeline)

Summary: Emory Autumn works as a PA to pop star Rory Fall. While they’re in Afghanistan performing for the troops, Emory is taken prisoner along with billionaire Tony Stark. The terrorists think she’s Rory, and they’re expecting a ransom.

When they discover her deception, Tony instinctively steps forward to demand the terrorists keep the feisty redhead alive as a ‘distraction.' She challenges his narcissism, he questions her self-sacrificing nature, and in the process, their attraction to each other heats up.

Length: 3,133

Note: This chapter is not explicit, but this story WILL end up in 18+ places. Minors, please do not interact. The story itself is long, has explicit sex, banter, and many heated kissing scenes. 'Trapped in a room' but it's a cave in Afghanistan. Romance, Humor, Personal Growth, Flamethrowers; you know, the fun stuff.

My Masterlist | Trust Fall Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: Sunlight

“Oh, wow! You’re like, a pocket sized version of Rory Fall!” the soldier says, looking down at Emory. She smiles, sweet and insincere. The kind of person who makes remarks like that never catches that her reaction is condescending. Then again, the kind of person who makes ‘pocket size’ comments probably doesn’t think it’s possible for a five foot, two inch woman to be condescending.

Emory Autumn had always been small for her age. As a baby, her level of nutrition had been a concern; as a toddler, she’d wowed everyone who thought she shouldn’t be able to walk or talk at her size; in elementary school, she was always seated in the front of the classroom and in photos. By middle school, she discovered that the ‘growth spurt’ she was hinging her hopes on was going to be centered on her chest rather than anywhere else, with the possible exception of her hips. In high school, she’d embraced her looks. Emory grew her wild, wavy red hair just past her shoulders, learned how to use makeup to enhance her ‘sultry sweetheart’ aesthetic, and stopped buying shirts that didn’t have a scoop or a vee neck.

If they were going to garner so much attention, ‘the girls’ needed to breathe.

Emory’s parents got divorced when she was seventeen, and she became the bait in a really frustrating fishing expedition on the part of both of her parents. Her only joy during that time was music. Maybe nothing else about Emory’s body had worked out the way she’d wanted it to, but she could sing. After her parents dragged her from school district to school district in a mad bid for control over the child support money on offer, she’d ended up at a high school with a really great music program.

A really great music program and a really great friend to enjoy it with.

Natalie Poricofsky had pretty much everything Emory wanted, save for the singing voice. Tall, blonde, popular, and reasonably busted, Natty could have been another one of the snooty girls who shut Emory out when she’d first walked in the door. Instead, they’d become really close. Emory had taught Natty everything she knew about music, and Natty had taught Emory everything she knew about men.

Namely, that they’re almost never worth the time and effort.

Nearly eight years later, Emory is sweltering in her shiny black blouse and miniskirt. She’s grateful that she’d worn the knee-high black boots for the solid, reassuring sole and sharp heel. Even though she’d never actually do it, it’s comforting to think about digging that heel into the soft parts of someone who refuses to take her seriously.

She’s done it before, metaphorically and physically.

A lot has changed over the years. Natty is now Rory, a consequence of their appearance on Make U A Star, a singing competition show on the now-defunct United Artists network. The producers had taken blonde, sweet-voiced Natalie Poricofsky and turned her into Rory Fall, a redheaded siren with a sultry alto her friend still couldn’t quite master, even after years of Emory’s patient voice coaching.

It wasn’t that Emory hadn’t seen what they were trying to do. Best friends show up with enough talent between them to make one pop star, one winner for the one and only season of UA’s breakout makeover/voice competition. Of course they chose the tall, willowy one. Hair could be dyed. Voices could be faked.

“I don’t know how to do this, you HAVE to help me, Em!” her friend had begged. Emory was always a sucker for begging. She’d read the Harry Potter books and immediately saw herself as a Hufflepuff, through and through. Loyal, patient, generous? Absolutely.

Lately, though, entertainment writers are starting to write articles about Rory with seasonal puns (Is Rory Fall Heading Out of Summer into FALL With Her Latest Antics???), and Emory is starting to describe herself with adjectives far less positive than she used to. Doormat. Steamrolled. Lonely. Being her friend’s Personal Assistant is no longer like being in Rory’s corner. It’s more like being a handler, the handler, whose absence means catastrophe. Everyone relies on Emory’s gentle, steady hand on the tiller to navigate Rory’s ship through the dangerous waters, but no one wants to keep her from getting saltwater in her wounds. No one even acknowledges that the wounds are inflicted by Rory herself.

Something is going to have to give, Emory knows. She’s not looking forward to it.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Emory holds back her eye roll with over half of a decade’s practice. Their own private USO-style tour is going well so far, which hadn’t been a given. But there are protocols involved with traveling in a war zone, even if the fighting is nowhere near their current location. Rory brought her current boyfriend with them, and there is a minimum number of soldiers required to travel in each Hum-Vee. Hank had offered to switch to a different one before the main caravan group arrived to satisfy the regs, but Rory won’t hear of Hank riding anywhere but with her.

Hank means well, but he doesn’t quite know how to handle Rory. Their trip is a career rejuvenating tour at its core. They need this to play well, with the troops they are interacting with on the ground, the ones Rory performs to, and most importantly, the people who will report on the first two. Leaving Rory Fall alone in a Hum-Vee with just Hank to keep her from saying the wrong thing is like tuning a piano without a tuning fork and expecting it will work out fine.

There’s a small percent chance it will! But not a realistic chance.

“I don’t care what my assistant said. You go back there and you get my fucking boyfriend and put him in the car with me, okay? Okay.”

Shit, Emory thinks to herself. Rory’s image may be that of a redheaded siren, but her audience is preteen girls whose parents control the purse strings. They’d never been able to break into the more adult listener base, college students and young professionals. They would understand a frustrated young woman swearing at the person standing in the way of ‘true love,’ but those preteen girls wouldn’t ever hear about the scandal, if it got out. They’d just be told that Rory Fall wasn’t an appropriate role model by their parents, and that would be the end of it.

“What can I do to make this better, Diva mine?” Emory calls out, speaking the magic phrase she’s getting really sick of having to say.

“You can take your fat ass and put it in a different vehicle, Em,” Rory says, her eyes completely covered by sunglasses that cost about as much as Emory’s current rent for a month. “Because not only do I refuse to ride with you at all, there isn’t room anyway, because riding with Hank is non-negotiable. So either you stay behind, or you ride with the weapon tycoon’s people. Kay?”

Insulting Emory’s looks is a new thing since Hank. It’s such an obvious way of trying to damage her value as possible competition for Rory’s boyfriend’s attention that Emory is usually able to slough it off. This time, though, Rory is saying it in front of other people. Their uncomfortable expressions show a range of pity and disgust, which makes the whole situation worse.

“That’s brilliant, actually,” Emory says brightly. “I didn’t know there would be room with the other convoy. Thanks for the suggestion. Do me a favor, though?” As she says this, Emory hands over one of the last of her supply of Rory’s favorite candy. It makes her feel gross to treat her grown friend the same way a parent might treat a toddler, but when you’re trying to handle one of the most volatile stars in the business, you do what you can.

“Just this once, and only if I want to. Tell me,” Rory demands.

“The commander in charge of the unit we’re traveling with today told me one of his guys’ daughters absolutely loves your music. He got called away after that and didn’t tell me which one. It’s really important we don’t make this guy unhappy with the idea of letting his kid listen to you, okay?” Emory holds up her phone and wiggles it a little. “You remember that Reddit thread where people talked about the famous people who are jerks in real life?”

Rory makes a groaning sound. “Ugh, yes. Okay. You always take such good care of me!” she says in a girlish, squeaky kind of voice, leaning over to kiss Emory on the top of the head. “Have fun with Stark. You remember him, right? Man was fantastic in bed, but way too into kissing.”

“Oh, sure,” Emory says. She can’t picture that ever being a problem. “Keep Hank safe, okay? See you when we get there.”

“Bye-eee!”

Emory doesn’t want to watch Rory hamming it up for the nonexistent paparazzi cameras, so she turns away. The group commander must have been standing right behind her, because she almost walks into him.

“Excuse me, sir,” she says politely.

“Young lady, you need a raise,” the man says bluntly. “I recognize combat experience when I see it. But when we tear down, we build back up. Keep that in mind.”

Emory looks down, embarrassed by the praise. There is one thing she hopes he can help with, though. “By any chance, do you know if there’s space in Stark’s caravan? I was told there was an addition to ours that leaves us one person over the number of spaces we have.”

“Come with me,” the man says.

The best way to impress people with opulence is to look like you’re not affected by it. Tony takes the cold glass of amber liquid from the custom-built liquor enclosure and waves a dismissive hand.

“We’ll be throwing one of these in with every purchase of--” he pauses for a fraction of a second, thinks up a ridiculous number. “Five hundred million or more.”

They won’t, of course. It’s his own private ‘Tony Stark turns everything into a vehicle for pleasure’ show-off piece. His people will pack it up once the troops get a gander at it.

Tony takes another sip and answers his phone. Obie’s encouraging as usual, and Tony hurries him along as quickly as he can. The work part is basically over, and he wants to put that behind him. Hang out with a few of the troops, get to his plane, get back into the air, and maybe find out what the new blonde flight attendant’s lip gloss tastes like.

He gets into the waiting car and an obliging soldier shuts the door for him.

As Tony’s eyes adjust to the darkness in the Hum-Vee, the first thing he sees is a pair of black leather boots with a killer heel. They go up higher than he expected they would, but what he really appreciates is the strip of skin between where the knee-high boots end and the black miniskirt begins. Tony traces his eyes up some more and tightens his grip on the glass. Her black blouse is snug, lovingly cupping a pair of breasts that his connoisseur’s eye tells him are probably magnificent.

Please be blonde, please be blonde, he thinks to himself, tracing his eyes upward. The woman’s eyes are focused on the phone in her lap, so he can’t see what color they are, but her hair, which is tightly pulled back in some kind of horrible professional bun-thing, is flame red. Hell yes, that’s even better.

“Hey, Tony?” Rhodey says, reaching for the handle as if he’s going to get inside with him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is the Fun-Vee,” Tony says, wondering if Jessica Rabbit will hear him and understand he’s referring to her. He leans out of the car to block Rhodey’s view inside, just in case. “The Hum-drum-Vee is back there.”

“Nice job,” Rhodey says, the corners of his lips tightening in disapproval. He definitely saw her boots, at least, Tony thinks.

“See you back at base,” Tony tells his friend. Rhodey doesn’t respond, simply pats the metal door in silent acquiescence. The sound breaks Boots’ concentration, and she looks up, sees Tony, and makes an unhappy face.

Hmm, he thinks to himself. It’s too dark inside the HumVee to see what color her eyes are, and he wants to know. If he’s honest, he wants to know a lot more things about her, inappropriate things, but that expression she made is one he’s seen before. She disapproves of him, Tony thinks.

He likes that. It’s more of a challenge.

“That was quite a face,” he says, holding his drink up near his lips. He wants to see what her reaction will be if he touches his tongue to the glass before taking a sip. That’s usually a great indicator of whether a woman’s interested, because they often don’t even realize that they’re following that movement with a touch of hunger in their eyes. To Tony’s disappointment, she doesn’t look back up. It could still be a good sign, though. The ones that want to resist him have a tendency to deliberately avoid looking at him, to prolong it.

Tony knows he’s handsome, knows the effect his confidence and open interest can have. There’s no shame in being obvious, he’s found. Of course, that’s probably connected to his wealth, but that’s not going anywhere, and he’s all about appreciating his advantages.

The soldier in the front passenger seat turns around. He’s got a camera, and as soon as he lifts it, the young man beside Tony grins and makes ‘photo, please?’ puppy dog eyes at him.

Tony leans over. Both soldiers are almost giddy, the one posing for the photo, the other snapping it.

“What about you, sweetheart, you want to tuck in over here for the picture?” Tony asks. There’s… practically no room for that, which has all sorts of pleasant implications for the precarious nature of the buttons on her blouse. She’s obviously never been told that the body retains some water in heat like this, and to bring clothing that allows a little extra space.

Not that he’s complaining.

“‘Sweetheart?’” she repeats, one expertly plucked red eyebrow lifting.

“Boots, Buttons, whichever. Come on, don’t disappoint the man with the camera.”

Her breathing is quickening with her outrage, just as he’d hoped it would.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she asks.

“Woahhhh,” at least two of the soldiers say, watching the exchange.

“Well, it is dark in here, but I am certain I would have remembered a chest like that, so I’m going to say nope, no idea.” If she gets mad enough, Tony’s certain one of the buttons will let go. He thinks he recognizes the make of the blouse, and he’s done the movie-move of ripping one of them open after an awards party once. The buttons gave way like they were snaps.

“Typical,” she says.

“Ooooohh,” Tony says at the same time as one of the male soldiers. “One of those.”

She looks up at him, then, and he takes a sip of his drink, touching his tongue to the glass. Her eyes follow the movement. Excellent.

Emory thinks that Stark is totally Rory’s type. He’s got the kind of insufferable confidence that was always like a red cape waved in front of her friend, as if catching that kind of a man’s eye means more. She looks up after he implies she’s some kind of a man-hater, and catches him taking a sip from the glass.

The way he moves his tongue reminds her, incongruously, of the comment Rory had made about kissing, and her face heats up. She’s grateful for the darkness of the HumVee.

Suddenly, the vehicle in front of them explodes. Emory is facing backwards, so it’s behind her, and when she turns to look, it’s almost like every single angle of escape bursts into fireballs around them.

“What have we got?” Stark says, freezing in his seat. She slips down onto the floor, listening to the sounds of gunfire and shouting voices. This is the worst-case scenario, the thing she’d been most afraid of when she and Rory had first talked about coming to sing for the troops. Emory’s shirt is too tight; her lungs are full of fear. It’s spilling out into her chest cavity and making breathing practically impossible.

She catches the eye of the young man who had been making a peace symbol in a photograph with Stark just minutes earlier. The look on his face is that of deep regret, as if he knows it might cost him his life to have to worry about their safety as civilians right now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. He flashes a brief smile, instructs them to stay put, and then climbs out, lifting his gun.

Immediately, there’s a burst of gunfire that cannot possibly have missed him. The side of the vehicle is punctured by what has to be twenty holes through which the harsh, bright light of the desert sun is now shining.

Emory never thought she’d be horrified at the sight of sunlight before, but she is now. Gunfire is a temporary, momentary shock, but those rays of light are part fearful memorial, part penetrating promise: the HumVee is not safe. The desert outside it is not safe. Nowhere is safe.

“Should be fine if you--” Stark says, sounding ill. He gestures with his hands that she should lay flat to the floor, but the next thing she knows, he’s opening the door and practically falling out. All Emory can think of is that his business suit and the HumVees are probably the most expensive things in the entire area, two objects that are from two vastly different theaters.

There’s more yelling outside, a man’s voice clearly yelling, “Get down!” She decides that she doesn’t want her body tangled up in the metal of this car that was filled with life only ten minutes ago. Emory pushes open the door Stark had used and crawls out, her body low to the ground. She can see him, his black suit so obvious against the desert sand, embarrassingly so-- until she remembers that she, too, is wearing black.

She starts crawling toward him, mostly because there are rocks to hide behind.

There’s a loud ‘thunk’ nearby that brings to Emory’s mind a podcast she’d listened to about World War I and artillery. Then there’s an explosion, a slicing pain in her legs, and the air is sucked from her lungs, leaving only the fear to expand into blackness as she falls unconscious.

Next Chapter, Emory meets Yinsen, who cares for her wounds and Tony's, and Tony wakes up.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x oc #tony stark x original character #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark imagine #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years

Note

before i say anything i just wanna let you know that your blog is an absolute gem and your writing is wonderful and a delight to read!! we're all very grateful that you choose to give us such wonderful stuff and we hope you have as much fun writing it as we do reading it. okay now that thats out of the way, could we possibly get headcanons about what it would be like to be in a relationship with travis miles ( (the no confidence man version i.e. awkward version) / travis miles with a crush on sole? thank you again!!

Being in a Relationship with Travis Miles

Omg, thank you so much for your kind words 😭 and I can definitely assure you that writing for all of these lovely requests and interesting characters is an absolute joy ❤

Anyways, YES! Thank goodness a request with my boy Travis 😩 I said this awhile back, but this man was the first one in FO4 that I absolutely fell in love with. Even when I found out you could romance the companions, I didn't for SO LONG because I just loved him too much. I sincerely wish this sweet, awkward boy was romanceable, but alas, I'll just have to settle with the indulgence of these headcannons 😅.

Travis is remarkably honest, even before the two of you are together. His mouth spews what's going on in his head quicker than he has time to filter it, so it really won't take long to find out about his true feelings for you, and even when he doesn't talk, his body language speaks volumes. Fidgeting hands, a blush over his skin, the nervous smiles, the way you feel his eyes on you only when you're looking away, they all play into the way his feelings ultimately become so plain to you.

When the two of you do finally go out, he can't believe it. Someone asked him out? Someone as perfect as you?! He's sure it's some ploy by Vadim, but still, he goes along with it. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that you really just genuinely want to be with him.

You'll have to do a lot of the initiating, despite how easy it is to discern what Travis wants, he never quite has the confidence to take it. Still though, the way his hand twitches as he reaches for you, before inevitably pulling away, the way his eyes flit to your lips and his ears burn red with unexecuted intent, and the way he awkwardly brushes his arm over the back of every couch and shared seat, so close to settling around your shoulders before it crumples beside him, those actions all tell you everything you need to know about what the man wants.

There's lots of "nights in" for the two of you. Either you or him running to the Power Noodles stand to grab dinner and bring it back to your place, sitting beside each other and chatting the night away, with the radio softly droning on in the background, you doing most of the talking and him listening so intently, simply reveling in the fact that it's you he gets to spend his nights with.

He's incredible at complimenting you, but he never even realizes he's doing it. They're usually subtle comments made under his breath, small retorts to something another person said, or even little arguments in your favor if he ever hears you demeaning yourself. It's like listening to his inner thoughts, the way he looks away and mutters to himself about how incredible you look, how nice you are, how he can't believe you're with him, and how hard it is to be around you when he cares for you so much.

A big show of affection for Travis is gift-giving. He loves quality time, but he's afraid he makes it awkward, and he has a hard time with reaching out to you physically, and with telling you how amazing he thinks you are, but gifts are a little easier. He listens to everything you say when the two of you are together, often has a bit of time to himself while the radio is going on re-runs, and he likes to spend it finding that perfect special something for you. He's damn good at it too. Like I said, he's a great listener, so anything that you might mention wanting off-handedly, he quickly stores it away in his mind as another potential gift for you. Along with a heartfelt note (writing his feelings is a hell of a lot easier than saying them), he'll leave the small gifts littered where you'll find them, always too embarrassed to give them to you himself, but wanting to show you how much he cares in a way that isn't too uncomfortable for him.

Travis loves when you touch him. He's never felt particularly... desirable in his lifetime, and just those innocent little brushes against him, holding hands, putting your arm around him, they just make all the difference in the world. Oh, and if you give him a kiss in public? He turns so red he gets mistaken for a tato, but still, the fact that you're not embarrassed to be with him, and to show others that the two of you are together, is as much of a relief as it is a surprise, and he always has the goofiest grin crinkle his cheeks after you pull away.

That radio of his isn't just for news and music once the two of you are together. Especially after you tell him you listen to it (there's no reason you shouldn't listen to it, but still, he's surprised). But when you're away and he knows you're on the other end of the line, Travis will say cheesy little poems, dedicate songs to you, tell you he's thinking about you, that he hopes you're safe, that he's waiting for you back in Diamond City, and he'll make it downright obvious to everyone in the Commonwealth how much he loves to love you. Sure, he knows he gets lots of groans from other listeners, and he's gotten more than a handful of complaint letters, but that won't stop him anytime soon. What he says isn't for other listeners. It's just for you.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout headcanons #fallout 4 headcanons #fo4 headcanons #travis miles #travis fo4 #fallout travis #travis miles x reader

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bluestar22x · 4 months

Text

BlueStar's Year In Review

Thought I might make a blog review post of sorts this year cause it seemed fun.

It's been a very fun year for me on here. I joined tumblr for the gifs, and for fan talk, back in 2015. I mainly focused on the Dominion, 12 Monkeys, and Supernatural shows. All of which have been off air for a while now but I've continued to find fandoms to latch onto, the latest being the Pedro Pascal character fandom.

I've only had good experiences with this fandom since I joined in, starting around July 2022 after finally watching The Mandalorian. I'd seen Pedro in other shows before, but that was the first role I really noticed him in (shame on my younger self for not paying more attention to Marcus Pike before).

Finding out Pedro was going to play Joel Miller in an HBO show that same month, after having discovered/watched the TLOU games in May/June 2022 and being a newfound fan of game Joel, it kinda felt like fate. And then going through most of Pedro's major movies and shows before and during the time The Last of Us show aired solidified my want to be part of the fandom.

This year has seen a shift in my blog in major ways in large part to the Pedro Pascal characters and fandom. It's still very much for reblogging gifs of my favorite characters/shows/movies, but I've now shifted to also being a very fanfic heavy blog, where before I was only posting and reading fics on fanfiction net.

I started writing fanfic for the first time in years because of Din in 2022, but it wasn't until Pedro's version of Joel in January that I started reading fanfic again (since SPN ended) and eventually started writing for other Pedro Pascal characters.

Through reading fanfic about these characters and writing for them I've truly immersed myself in a fandom again and it's been a wonderful distraction, especially with how stressful real life has been in recent years trying to find a job I can live with, and dealing with not liking where I am in life (I thought I'd have more by this age - my own house, family, etc.).

I'm really grateful for those who have had discussions with me and who have read my fics; those who reblogged and left comments and reaction gifs that made me smile (reaction gifs are so fun). While I do write for myself first, every note has given me a serotonin boost, and it has lead to me having my first ever post with 100 notes! (And it's for one of my favorite fics I've written Sweet Summer). Notes aren't everything, but they're worth celebrating! They make me feel like I'm a part of something and not just in the background. I like contributing.

Here's the link to my Tumblr Stats

Notable Stats:

I've posted so much more this year than the rest before; it's insane

Obviously the notes have gone up since I now write

I haven't even hit 400 original posts yet since 2015! lol

Top 5 Posts:

1. July - Ch2 of my Sweet Summer Series

2. Sweet Summer Masterlist

3. Colors - My Joel Miller x blind!reader oneshot (a surprise honestly, but it goes to show how much reblogs make a difference)

4. June - Ch1 of my Sweet Summer Series

5. The Rockford Files Masterlist

It makes me sooo happy Rockford's in the top 5 cause that fic was very demanding and challenging for me. Not only did it have more plot than my typical fics (which took ages to straighten out), but it also had very LONG chapters because of the case by case nature of the fic. I find it hard to commit to long chapters like that - I have a somewhat short attention span and I'm impatient. It's only 3 chapters yet has almost enough words to be a novel! (over 40,000 words)

My Favorite Fanfics I've Written:

The Rockford Files (the finished product was worth it)

Sweet Summer Series (including New Year's Promise!)

The Journey Series

Fanfics I Wish Got More Love:

Second Chances Series (Love underrated Marcus M)

The Writing Contest Series (it's still early though)

My Masterlist

My Fanfic Plans:

I've got a lot of WIPs written out in my drafts. Right now I'm going to be focusing on Baby Fever and The Writing Contest (the latter which will have the most chapters of any fic I've written in a long time) but I have several one shots I'm itching to write between their chapters, including another Sweet Summer oneshot sequel called The Weekend which will feature Steve, Connie, and Chucho - not sure how I've avoided writing them for so long when I loved them in show. It will also be based around one of my favorite things to write besides smut. Take a guess.

After Baby Fever is completed I'll be looking to start writing another series, this time for Dieter called Unknown which will share a bit of plot and humor with that Disney movie The Game Plan (hopefully - I don't write humor much) but Dieter-fied. It'll feature less sports and more romance and angst. My two greatest loves.

Tumblr Wishes For 2024:

That I catch up on my WIP list (unlikely)

That I don't run out of ideas for fics (I just don't want as much ha)

That I make close friends in the fandom - I've talked to some lovely people fairly often, but I don't have anyone yet that I talk to regularly as I did in previous fandoms

That I have more discussions about the characters/fics/ask games I'm interested in - my ask box is open!

Anyway, that's all for now. Happy New Year everyone! :)

#Get To Know Me 2023 #Year In Review

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

Note

Ohh... Sweet Holiday Angel

What a ride that was! 🥵

Seriously though. It's always especially fascinating to me when you guys came up with very long one-shots, or series that amount to thousand and thousand of words! What you're doing is basically giving me a portion of a novel, so i'm beyond grateful for the great escape that it presents, and your hard work --no matter the length.

Ok. So, first things first, i absolutely love your version of August! Still tough but not as much, commanding at times but not often, a cocky cheeky bastard but with a playful side, still troubled, still dominant but not as hard, definitely a player, and with a tender side of him that i find quite therapeutic in a character. I still love reading the often portrayed hard version of him (let's call it like that but you know what i mean) at times, but i guess this is my kind of romantic, and he's definitely my kind of August.

What's more is that he's a dad! 😍 To a young-adult daughter! Love this!

The smut, you absolutely nailed it! Again! I'm bad at articulating my thoughts for the juicy parts accurately, but my rapid heart beat could tell you something ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I feel like i could comment on every scene and every interaction and every word, but that just would be a long-ass (longer than this?) comment. Instead, i'm gonna say what a delightful, enjoyable reading this was! Yes, it is awkward when it's reader and her besties' dad, but him essentially helping her realize she can experience the passion she wants in her life, and not being a total dick along the way and treat her right, makes it not as awkward and uncomfortable as to make me stop reading, idk. I also might be trying to justify sth here, but anyway :D

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked. “It’s a start.”

This here, made me "IS IT??", but i'm glad where you left them at the end. It's more realistic, though it's fiction so i guess we can always get some more? (pun definitely not intended lol) Especially when you further attacked me with the thought of Professor Marshall, a man that is so fine to look at that it's distracting, you know 🥰

Thank you again for this beautiful work you've done. I'll be waiting very patiently for the next wonder you'll come up with!

Have a lovely day 💐

Flower Bouquet Anon!

I'm so glad you got a chance to power through Holiday Angel! I see it was everything for you I hoped it would be!

Yes, being inspired to basically write a novelette is amazing. (I sometimes wish I had the guts to do it for real, but self promotion is not my forte and breaking into that world feels especially daunting.)

I, too, love my August, and you're also right: the other versions of August floating around out there are all just as hot and desirable. But I wanted him a little sweet for this adventure. I'm glad it worked for you. 😘 (And I see you picked up on my hints that he's a player. For real. No one is tying that man down.)

If I could hook my readers up to a heart monitor when they get to the smut, I hope it all looks like this:

Ahhhhh, It's a start! That line was meant to lead into the rest of the night's pleasure, but I can appreciate wanting more of that relationship. But yes, as you saw, one night only. August Walker is an extremely intelligent man and not interested in ruining his daughter's life or friendship.

Thank you again for all your lovely encouragement! It means the world to me!

#nonny asks #charlie answers #holiday angel #august walker #august walker x reader

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zencowpoke · 2 years

Photo

grateful dead-pelletier farm, st. helens, OR., august 23, 1969.

this fabulous soundboard recording captures the dead a week removed from their woodstock performance, doing what they most likely intended to do in bethel. bulldog 2 was advertised as a three day affair featuring a swell line-up which included the dead, taj mahal, mixed blood, portland zoo, sabatic goat, bill feldman, and a pre-celebrity NRPS. the advertising also promoted petite mall lites, space balloons, rides, and fireworks. all this for $6 bucks in advance.

from the opening bars of hard to handle, it’s very clear that the boys have brought their A-game on this evening; the version is long, raunchy, and played with plenty of swagger. following this, we’re treated to the workingman’s portion of the show: a sweet countrified mama tried > high time combo, a fine casey jones with some funky swamp-blues guitar from mr. garcia, and a red-hot easy wind with pig’s keys taking center stage. the show really turns at the dark star which is, from the very beginning, a goddamn sonic satori. it’s a version that makes you very thankful that recordings of this band were made in such abundance. the tune covers relatively standard territory through the first seven minutes or so—a melody is established, and garcia states a few thematic ideas. the playing is flawless. next, the band—led by jerry & TC—starts to explore a few riffs that advance into a daring, intrepid jam that the ensemble kicks around and develops further in a 4/4 time signature, before dropping effortlessly into a delightfully weird metaphysical space that they mine for a lengthy exploration. in time, garcia deftly returns the unit to the main theme and the second verse. out of this, st. stephen bursts forth in full fury and rages into the 11, which is equally as charged and wonderful. in true good ol’ grateful dead fashion, the set continues with a hefty 30-minute lovelight, marshaled by pig’s bawdy rapping, TC’s peppery, calliope organ, and a ton of relentless jamming. after a few relatively coy comments from a festival stage manager, the crowd is sent home with a stirring take on we bid you goodnight.

the following day, the local papers reported that there were no problems or fallout from the festival. in a press briefing, columbia county DA, lou williams, was quoted as saying “if you call the open use of narcotics and drugs 'no problem,' then i guess there was no problem." another article noted that many of the st. helens’ merchants were delighted with the abundance of sales over the course of the event. the streets were packed, and business had never been so good. one store owner did complain though. he stated that “…if he played music like that, he'd be arrested.”

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allylikethecat · 1 month

Note

ally!!!!! I am screaming!!!!! that update was so good oh my god !!!! i apologise for the insufferably long ass message you are about to receive but that update was incredible and i must talk about it!!!!

okay so first of all I would like to take fictional! matty by the shoulders and shake him!!!! the man has no self-worth and it is infuriating like??? hello?? why wouldn’t fictional!george be in love with you you are wonderful??!!!

the christmas gift was such a sweet detail and just shows how much love and care they both have for each other — it was so cute!!!!!

fictional!george absolutely destroying his mother and her stupid opinions??? yes please. i am so very happy you allowed him the opportunity to go off as he so deserved.

also…’the man I am going to marry’????!!! I would like to offer you a round of applause this line had me squealing…i love this version of fictional!george so much he loves his fictional!matty and is not afraid to show it.

+ the kiss infront of all of his family???? perfection - he really said fuck you to all of them lmao.

I really hope they both get their well deserved nap and then have a wonderful and productive conversation about their future and sail off into the sunset together (or just go home for christmas lol) ….that is after fictional!matty does something about that weird stomachache he has 🫠🫠🫠

I once again thank you for another wonderful tuesday update - I am SO excited for the ending of this fic.

— 💌💌💌

Oh my goodness hello my dear 💌 anon! I am deeply sorry that it has taken me so long to respond to this INCREDIBLE ask I have read it at least six time with the happiest of smiles on my face! (Never apologize for sending a long ask omfg literally getting this has made me the happiest of people omg!!) I'm going to attempt to respond to all of your different (wonderful!!) points:

Listen, poor Fictional!Matty has been through a lot in his fictional 34 years :( because they never really talked about it, Fictional!Matty is still hung up on his and Fictional!George's past history, meanwhile Fictional!George does not realize this and thinks they are moving forward - they need to talk, it's all going to be okay 🩵

I had the HARDEST time coming up with Christmas presents for them to get each other omfg, I was like Fictional!Matty just buys himself whatever he wants and Fictional!George is NOT materialistic and doesn't like things BUT I was really happy with what I came up with and I'm excited for you to see what Fictional!George got Fictional!Matty!

Fictional!George was done, his mom is a bitch but his sister's comments put him over the edge, they are going to Manchester where they are appreciated! (In the outline Fictional!George caused even more of a scene - with Fictional!Matty's help, but I think I like this version better!)

Fictional!George is marrying Fictional!Matty even if Fictional!Matty doesn't know that yet- he's waited seventeen years, he's ready gosh darn it!

I had to let Fictional!George make at least a *little* bit of a scene - and making out with Fictional!Matty in the driveway while they waited for the Uber seemed like an appropriate scene to make lol

Yes!!! I'm so excited for the final part, I think it's going to wrap a few things up nicely! Lots of talking, and napping, and snuggling needs to happen, especially since Poor Fictional!Matty is not well....

I'm so glad that I was able to make you smile on your Tuesday, and I hope the rest of your week has been absolutely fantastic! I am so grateful for the continued support and this lovely ask and the fact that you've taken the time to stick with the Christmas Fic even though it is now very much March lol. I apologize again for taking so long to respond and I hope you are having, and continue to have the best week!!!

❤️Ally

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

soulmate requests / follower celebration

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#din djarin x reader #soulmate requests #anonymous and elle #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 3 years

Text

Strawberries and Peaches

Pairing :: Eric Northman x fem!Reader

Warnings :: Angst, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Bloodplay(?idk he’s a vampire so-?), Death

Word Count :: 3,588

Summary :: Eric thought he had lost you centuries ago, and yet here you were again.

A/N :: Takes place between season 3 and 4

When you walked into Fangtasia a few nights ago, with an old acquaintance of Eric’s, he thought he had seen a ghost. The last time he laid eyes on you, you were crying. The last time he held you, you were dying.

Nearly several hundred years ago, Eric first met you, a humble girl in a recluse village. Your people warned you not to venture off into the woods, and more importantly, to never speak to the people who walk only during the night. You were kind-hearted though, and so, when a blond man walked up to you after nightfall, begging for help, you couldn’t say no. You more than happily helped him and welcomed him into your home. You treated and cared for him as if he were your own family.

Eric had never received such kindness from a human before, whether they knew he was a vampire or not. You always gave him a smile, even when people began to warn you about him. He found himself drawn to you. Your scent was like none he had ever smelled before. Strawberries and peaches, with a dash of rose petals. Whenever your fingers touched him, he swore he felt his freezing body warm-up. For the first time in his life, he found himself falling for someone, and slowly, you did too.

Perhaps your feeling for him clouded your judgment, or perhaps you truly didn’t care. When Eric had confessed to being a vampire, you hugged him and told him you’d love him no matter what. Godric tried to warn Eric that starting a life with a human would be dangerous, especially since you weren’t ready to be turned. The thought of being immortal horrified you, however, with Eric it didn’t seem that scary. Still, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to the sun. All he could do was support your decision and wait. His compassion is what killed you, and he blamed himself every day for it until eventually, you were a fleeting thought in the back of his mind.

There were times Eric had to leave because Godric needed him. Unfortunately, on one of these trips your village, though recluse, was not impossible to find. You were attacked right before sunset by a neighboring kingdom that had recently declared war against yours. Men, women, and children died, homes were burned to the ground. Your home was spared. You were not. Eric returned shortly after the attackers had left, finding the ruins of your village. If his heart was still beating, it surely would’ve stopped. He found you in your home, laying in a pool of blood on the floor with a large slash across your torso. Your breath had stopped long ago, and your warm touch now is just as freezing as Eric’s. He fell to his knees, holding your limp body in his arms. He could see tear stains on your face, and he couldn’t help but wonder what your last thoughts were. Were you waiting for him? Crying for him to return? He’d never know, but he’d make sure he’d have revenge for your death.

Time went on, and Eric began to grow unsympathetic. He never allowed himself to get close to another human again as he did with you. He had the occasional flings, and there was Pam. She was a companion and received a different sort of love from him than you did. There was also Sookie, whom he felt drawn to, but he never felt the love for her he felt for you. What drew him to Sookie was the fact she was a fae. What drew him to you, he never quite understood.

You may have become a distant memory, but he’d always remember your sweet scent. Strawberries, peaches, and a hint of rose petals. He hadn’t smelled that sweet aroma since the day you died, that was until a few nights ago.

You walked in with Bishop, an old acquaintance of Eric who knew him long enough to know you. You wore a pastel yellow sundress, not knowing you’d be going to the vampire bar. All Bishop told you was to wear something nice. Hell, the man didn’t even tell you he was taking you to Louisiana. You lived on the west coast in a small apartment as a writer. Ever since The Great Revelation, you had been attempting to speak to as many vampires as you could so you could share their stories with the world. Most were hostile or rude when you questioned them, and the few that would agree had either odd demands you’d have to refuse or were clearly lying. Then, one night, a vampire showed up at your front door, claiming he knew a vampire over a thousand years old who’d tell you his story. Shortly after, you found yourself on a plane and now in a bar called “Fangtasia”.

Bishop told you to wait near the front, which you gladly did, not wanting to walk further in. You stood out like a sore thumb, and all you could do to avoid the gazes you were receiving was look at the wall of shirts they sold.

Bishop walked up to Eric’s throne, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Sheriff-”

“Stop,” Eric said in a cold tone. He narrowed his gaze on the man. “What do you want?”

Eric and Bishop had a complicated relationship. They had known each other for centuries, but they weren’t friends. Their paths only really crossed when one needed something from the other, typically Bishop needing something from Eric.

“Have you always been this hostile?” Bishop let out a sigh. “I don’t want or need, anything Eric. I came to bring you a gift.” Eric was silent, letting the man continue. “I know you smell her, and yes, it really is her…”

Eric’s gaze moved over to you, standing by, looking at the shirts. You looked exactly the same, besides your (h/c) hair being a bit different now. His eyes softened for a moment, watching you giggle at some of the little phrases they put on the shirts.

“...or at least, another version of her.”

Eric’s focus snapped back to Bishop. “What?”

“She’s one in a billion.”

Eric knew some people could be reincarnated, but thought the chances of that were slim to none. Godric had only encountered two reincarnated people in his life, and Eric none, until now that is.

Without another word, Eric approached you. You were so into the silly phrases on the shirt, you nearly missed the tall man approaching you. You turned to face him, a large grin on your face as you extended your hand.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Northman. I’m (f/n) (l/n), but please, call me (y/n).”

“Only if you call me Eric.”

Looking down at you, the corner of his lips were curved upward. Reaching out to shake your hand, he felt the same warmth he felt centuries ago when your hands touched. You tilted your head touching his hand. Yes, it was cold, but, you felt an odd sense of safety holding his hand, even if it was for a brief moment.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head lightly. “I’m sorry, but, do I know you?” You couldn’t help but be forward. You’ve never felt this sense of security before.

Eric, for once, didn’t know how to reply. Technically he knew you, a different you though.

“Possibly, I’ve been around for a long time. There’s a chance our paths have crossed before.”

You hummed in response, before continuing on to tell him about why you had traveled all the way to Shreveport, Louisiana. Eric absentmindedly listened to what you had to say. In all honesty, he was just happy to see you again and agreed to any pitch you gave him. As long as he could be close to you again. Even though Bishop was constantly telling you on your journey here that Eric would say yes, you were still surprised and grateful when he agreed. The agreement was for you to come to Fangtasia each night, sit next to Eric, and he’d tell you his story.

He was one to come up with the arrangement, yet it seemed he cared little about telling you his story. You went several nights in a row, standing out due to your brightly colored clothes each day. Everyone stared at you as you sat next to Eric, except for one of the employees named Pam. She didn’t seem to care a single bit about who you were. The night usually went one of two ways. One: You’d ask Eric a question, he’d give a vague answer, and then quickly shift the focus on you. Two: Men and Women would spend the entire night trying to grab just a sliver of Eric’s attention before he snapped his fingers and Pam came to pry them away. There was one night he almost kicked a man who made a comment as to why you were so special you got to sit next to him, Eric held back. He didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you already were in the bar.

Tonight was the second kind of night. So far, the blond had already rejected two women and one man. You couldn’t wrap your head around why people would throw themselves at him. Admittedly, you found Eric handsome, and always wanted to see him smile for some odd reason. Still, you’d never throw yourself at him like these people would. At least, you’d hope you never would.

You were usually patient, however, it had been nearly a week and you still hadn’t gotten a thing from him. You were beginning to grow impatient with him, not to mention tired from your daily schedule changing so much thanks to him as well.

“Hey, Eric, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel early tonight,” You told him as you began to pack up your things.

Eric looked at you with confusion, brows furrowed. “Why? What’s wrong?” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried something was wrong.

You stood up, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Nothing, I’m just tired is all. Have a nice night.”

Walking out of Fangtasia, for the first time ever, you saw a large group of Christian protesters standing a short distance away from the entrance. Usually, you showed up right before sunset and left at the crack of dawn, so you had never seen such a large group. You wouldn’t have cared much if not for the fact that you had to go through the crowd to get to your car. They shouted at you as you walked through, calling you a “fang-banger” and “vampire cunt”. You ignored them, wondering why they had nothing better to do than this. Tonight was one of their rowdier nights though, and you were shoved to the ground. You scraped your hands and knees, tearing the white tights you wore under your blue dress. You began to pick yourself up, and that’s when you noticed the crowd had gone silent. You looked up, curious, seeing Eric now standing right at the front of the crowd, Pam right beside him. He was giving them a murderous glare, daring for one of them to do something so he could rip them apart.

Once you stood up, Eric turned to you, walking over in a few steps. He grabbed both your wrists, eyebrows knitted together. “You’re bleeding,” He muttered, looking down at the scrapes on your palms. Letting go of one of your wrists, he led you back inside. “Pam, deal with these people,” He ordered right before he walked in.

Briskly, he walked you back to his office, not wanting any of the other vampires to get a whiff of your blood for too long. You had never been in the back, and you didn’t get a very good look around with Eric rushing you into his office.

“Sit on the desk,” He told you as he began rummaging through one of his cabinets for the first aid kit. It was rarely used.

You moved a few of the items on his desk aside so you could hop on. Silently, you looked around the office, waiting for Eric to walk over. After a moment, he found the kit and began cleaning one of your hands. His cold hand held your warm one gently, almost as if he were afraid he’d break you if he wasn’t soft with you. You were closer to him now than ever before, with only a foot of distance between you. You winced when he cleaned the wounds, but as he bandaged them up, you couldn’t help staring at him. You took note of his perfect, still pale, complexion, his blue eyes, and his slightly tense jaw. Little did you know, it was causing a great deal of pain for Eric to hold back and not start licking the blood that came out of your wounds. Your scent was much stronger than before and his mouth was watering, remembering the sweet taste of your blood.

When he was done with your hands, he paused for a moment, looking down at your knees. “I need you to take off your tights.”

You were confused, until you looked down, seeing your ripped tights. “O-oh, right,” you stuttered.

You hopped off and took your little blue heels with ease. Then, you reached up the skirt of your dress and pulled down your now ruined tights, tossing them right next to your bag. As you did, you could feel his intense stare on you, causing your cheeks to heat up. You were about to sit back on his desk until he told you to stand instead. He knelt down to clean the scrapes on your knees, one hand holding the back of your leg. Quickly, he wrapped it up and moved on to clean your other knee.

Now, you don’t know why you did, but without thinking you questioned Eric. “Why’d you lie and agree to tell me your story?” You covered your mouth right after you asked him. Your mother always did tell you that you had the problem of speaking without thinking.

Caught off guard, Eric looked up at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

Realizing you couldn’t take back what you said, you continue on. “You haven’t told me a thing about you. Why’d you lie to me about telling me your story?”

Without hesitation, Eric replied, “Because I wanted you to be with me again.”

Now you were caught off guard.

“You’re almost an exact replica of someone I cared about and lost a long time ago. You don’t have her memories, but besides that, you’re exactly the same,” He began to explain, “You look like her.” His grip on your leg tightened, “You feel like her.” He moved his head closer to the now clean wound on your knee and took a sniff, “You smell like her.” He licked the fresh blood that was coming out, “You taste like her.”

Eric watched you squirm a bit under his hold, a faint blush spreading across your face. You gripped the sides of your dress, your brows turned downwards and your lips formed a small frown. You thought he was teasing you.

He let out a small chuckle. “You even act the same as her.” He licked your leg again, your breath now shaking.

“S-stop it,” You barely managed to whisper.

You could hear the sadness in his voice and it made your heart hurt. Your eyes began to sting. Your chest grew tight. You couldn’t understand why you felt so sad for him, even though you barely knew him. Finally, he let go of your leg and stood up, towering over you.

“What if I don’t want to stop?” Eric asked you, eyes peering down into yours.

Your heart was racing now, though you weren’t sure whether it was from fear or perhaps excitement. You knew one thing for sure, with him staring so intensely at you, you could feel a heat beginning to rise up inside you.

He brought a hand up to the side of your face, stroking his thumb gently across your cheek. Slowly, he began to lean his head down.

With his lips brushing against yours he asked you, “What would you do?” right before pressing a soft kiss onto you.

You leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes and gripping his black shirt. As it continued on, the kiss began to grow rough, Eric nibbling your bottom lip with his fangs. His hand on your cheek was gentle, but the hand that held your hip was tight. Feeling a small pinch on your lip, you let out a gasp knowing full well he had bitten your lip. It was enough for Eric to shove his tongue in your mouth though, and both of you tasted your metallic blood.

His hand on your hip moved lower, gripping your thigh. He pushed you back against the desk, lifting you so you’d be seated again. He pulled away from your mouth, moving down to your neck. He licked a few spots, before finally biting down and piercing your skin. You let out a soft cry, hands moving to wrap around his neck. You gripped his hair, feeling him suck the blood out of you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your whimpers.

When he pulled away, you felt light-headed now. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling his hands come off only to swiftly pull your dress off. After pulling off your bra as well, his hands began to roam around your body. You shivered against his touch, your skin feeling like it was burning against his cold hands. He grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it lightly before leaning down and biting the upper part of it. This time, he sucked to leave a mark rather than to drink your blood.

A hand of his moved down, in between your inner thighs. He began to rub your clit with his thumb roughly, a moan finally escaping you. He pulled away from your breast, a bloody smirk on his face.

“Well how about that, you sound just like her too,” He teased.

“Sh-shut up,” You stammered.

You moved your hands to pull at the bottom of his shirt. He pulled away his thumb, allowing you to take off his shirt, and see the bulge that had formed in his pants.

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, “I want you to get yourself ready for me love.” He then grabbed your hand, leading it down to your panties.

Once he let go, you began to rub yourself through the thin fabric, feeling how wet you already were. You began to rub harder and faster, watching him undo his pants. His briefs went down with his pants, allowing his hardened dick to spring free. With one hand he grabbed the hand you were using to rub yourself out, and with the other, he ripped off your panties, causing you to yelp. Then, he guided you to put a finger of your own inside you, along with his.

“Eric,” You whimpered.

He continued to guide you, moving your hands together in and out of you at a slow pace. “Shhh, I need to get that tight little cunt of yours ready for me. Okay?”

He stuck another of his own fingers inside of you and all you could do was nod your head quickly. He took out your hand and began to pick up his pace with his fingers. With your moans, and grip on his shoulders, he could tell you were getting closer, begging for a release as you arched your back.

“Eric, please,” you mewled out.

“Please what?”

“I need you, all of you,” you begged.

He pulled out his fingered and positioned himself right at your entrance. “Alright, but only because you begged,” He said with a wink.

Slowly, he began to push himself inside of you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Eric gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he began to move, thrusting at an unbearably slow pace for you. You attempted to move your own hips, wrapping your legs around him. Knowing you needed more, Eric began to pick up the pace almost instantly, causing you to cry out loud. He slammed his mouth against yours, muffling your cries and your moans.

He was finally giving you what you needed, and you knew you’d be undone soon. You almost cried when he pulled out of you completely, until he slammed back into. You let out a loud scream and Eric groaned, feeling you tighten. He continued to pound into you, going harder each time until your body tensed up and you moaned his name loudly, finally hitting your high. Growing close himself, Eric’s thrust had a rhythm before, but now they grew ragged. Soon after you, he hit his climax, cumming inside of you. He proceeded to ride himself out in you and your breath slowly began going back to normal.

Pulling out of you, he placed a quick kiss on your lips. “I hope you know I’m never letting you go now,” He muttered.

“That’s fine because there’s no one else I want to go with.”

#eric northman #true blood #true blood eric #erik northman #alexander skarsgard #eric northman x reader #eric northman smut #eric northman angst #eric northman imagine #eric northman fanfic #eric northman fanfiction

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absolutebl · 3 years

Text

This Week In BL

May 2021 Wk 2

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 12 fin - that was a long arse final ep, but solid performances. I liked that we focused on the fallout amongst the side characters. (Very clever of them to depict Chap with Tae, his Y-Destiny pairing. Especially as both actors are slated for new BL roles with different partners again, The Tuxedo and You’re My Sky.) The camera certainly enjoyed wallowing in Sib & Gene’s separation, but that’s an Asian drama for you. They like to DWELL. (Frankly, I like a bit of wallowing myself.) I thought the inclusion of the “actual” writer at the very end thoroughly unnecessary. I don’t think they had to beat us over the head with the 4th wall meta quite that much. Still, this is probably one of the best BLs we’re getting from non-GMMtV Thailand this year. RECOMMENDED

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) I found the first half uninteresting but once Casper the Friendly Gay showed up it was fine. The ghost reminded me a bit of Fuse from MIR.

Close Friend Ep 4: (Just One Life) - is it just me or is Talay insanely charismatic? Anygay, the director got ahold of a drone for this one and would like us to KNOW ABOUT THAT FACT. Look, I just don’t think YoonLay have great chemistry but this was alright, cute enough.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 6 - This was a better installment than we’ve had in a while. I like the obsession vs love explanation from Mork, insightful if creepy. Meen & Duean are okay, I guess. A bit annoying. Everyone in this show is a bit annoying. But the wipe toothpaste then wipe eye crud got to me. Toothpaste in the eye, yech! And then I was all, oh that’s basically this show: toothpaste in the eye. It just reviewed itself. (Also why do they keep switching aspect ratio between the two pairs? It’s like they were filming with two completely different camera types... oh. ah. Weird, GMMTV usually doesn’t make mistakes like that.)

Call it What You Want Ep 6 fin - I skipped to the last ep on this, I told you I do that sometimes to find out what happened. So CIWYW ends happy for the main couple, but trigger warnings on: eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, depression, mental abuse, and a few other things. If you don’t mind your BL dark, gritty, self aware, and honest then you should be okay with this show. But if your preference is for fluff, then there are other fish in the sky. Speaking of...

Nitiman Ep 2 - Giving me My Engineer vibes. This is OLD school Thai uni BL. I kinda feel like it was meant to come out in 2018, the gap year that was, but I am SO GRATEFUL we’re getting it now. Pay TF attention FUTS this is how you redeem a tsundere uke. Also I love that Bboom is just a terrible flirt and the football match twist was great. I love this show.

Top Secret Together Ep 1 - it’s out there but no eng subs. It’s an office set romance with multiple couples all tangential to one building. A bit stilted and low production values but I’m intrigued. I hope we get subs... eventually.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 9 - gets the safe sex gold star for lube + condoms AND a verse discussion? Not to mention asking for sex advice from queer fam? Is this a first in BL? Might be. (I still think it’s weird that product placement hasn’t jumped on the lube bandwagon, too slippery perhaps?) I like the embezzlement drama. I always enjoy good outside conflict playing to setting, and this is the kind to be easily resolved in next week’s finale. What a roller coster this series has been.

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 5 - I LOVE THIS SHOW. A heartbeat after i thought, “they better address what he’s doing to the girls he’s dating,” they did it. Clever scripting that. The messaging is gorgeous, the idea that pride and media coverage and knowing about a changing world can broaden minds and lead to acceptance was basically Taiwan making a case for itself paving the way for marriage equality in Asia. Genius.

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 1 (AKA 4) - dropped with subs and improved production values, someone is learning (or got more dough). The younger brother’s drama is a bit confusing, but I am here for cute boyfriends being cute boyfriends together. And I love that they took the seme’s previous pair (from Nation’s Brother) to be the faen fatale, very crafty of them. Even though it’s not a trope I like, there’s great chemistry all around.

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 6 - I weirdly love this show, okay? I’m just hoping Long has known Minh’s secret all along and is playing a reverse long con cat & mouse game, waiting for Minh to tell him the truth. Because that would be THE BEST. I could do without the faen fatale but ya can’t have everything. (I’m so glad it’s not the standard 6 ep arc, MOAR!!!)

Gossip

Rumor is GMMTV Thailand started shooting Baker Boys (here’s the teaser trailer). This is a remake of Antique (AKA Antique Bakery) a 2008 Korean movie (you can watch it on Viki) which is a remake of Antique (a 2001 Japanese series) with is an adaptation of wildly popular manga Antique Bakery. Knowing the plot I’m not sure this will qualify as BL. I’m still predicting Lee gets his first gay kiss in this series from Singto. More details about this series here.

Breaking News

Love Area release pushed out, reportedly due to C19. (source DramaCool)

Be Love In House: I Do (Taiwan, of course, with that title) got a new softer trailer (no subs). It drops next week, May 19, 2021 on Viki. All the information I have is here.

Tangential to BL

Two BL-adjacent shows, both from Taiwan.

I’m watching Love is Science? on Viki which has a het foundation, but it’s a good one. There’s a BL side couple who are on an enemies to lovers slow burn trajectory; featuring a disaster bi slut meets elegant bad ass super gay. So there’s THAT. The mains are an older career woman and the sweet boy from her distant past who has pined for her for years. (He is the softest sweetest service sub you ever saw.) Props to Taiwan for a seriously underused het dynamic. As usual in Asian rom coms the straight boy love interest is a Perfect Cinnamon Role (yes I’m looking at you True Beauty & Love O2O) but I find Taiwan’s version more palatable than Korea’s or Mainland China’s. It’s not finished yet but... RECOMMENDED.

Starting this week is Love Outlet a 50 (?!) episode show about a mall that sells relationships. It is supposed to have a main gay romance, but it might be a side dish. Very little else known about it. Coming to Line TV.

Honestly, I’m at the point where if Taiwan makes it, I’ll probably watch it.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Starting:

Be Loved In House: I Do (Taiwan)

Golden Blood (Thailand) we think, like Love Area this may be delayed due to surging C19 cases

Love Outlet (Taiwan) we think

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

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azucanela · 3 years

Text

prologue

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption. cursing.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE NIGHT OF THE GALA, it quickly came to Y/N’s attention that she definitely should not have waited til the last minute to get ready. But, her own procrastination had bested her, especially since she didn’t want to go, at all. It isn’t that Y/N wasn’t excited to see all her peers, it’s just that...

Y/N wasn’t excited to see her peers.

Or anyone for that matter, she was exhausted after having just recently returned from one of her longer missions, and though her publicist had insisted the timing was perfect Y/N had to disagree.

She was really hoping for a break, not to be forced into socializing with everyone. And though Y/N didn’t want to seem arrogant in any way, she was a woman who had amassed quite the influence in her years as a Pro Hero. Meaning people wanted to talk to her, they wanted her favor.

Y/N wasn’t in the mood to have conversations with people faking kindness at the moment, which was the primary reason she found herself grimacing as she slipped on her second heel. Nearly falling to the floor had she not caught herself on the edge of the doorway as she hopped out while adjusting her shoe.

As though things couldn’t become more chaotic, Y/N’s phone rings, causing her to jump at the sudden noise in shock before cursing, hand reaching into her small purse and digging around for the item as she continues towards her door. Just before she can pick up the phone, the call promptly ends, and a knock sounds at the door— causing Y/N to groan in annoyance as she comes to a proper stand and begins to make her way towards the entrance of her home.

The knocks become more rapid, and Y/N suddenly realizes just who is at her door as she rolls her eyes, calling out, “I’m coming you impatient hag.”

Y/N can practically hear the scoff of her publicist as she finally opens the door, revealing the woman who stands with her brow raised. “We’re going to be late.”

Before her stands Lorelai Flores, one of the most renowned publicists of their time. Y/N was lucky to have scored her seeing as she was one of few Pro Heroes who hadn’t had a scandal yet, miraculously. In fact, Y/N had been one of her first clients shortly after they’d met in a local café— the woman had come from America and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if life there was more chaotic with how well she handled all her clients.

The woman in question stands before Y/N in a green dress as she removes her glasses, eyes scanning Y/Ns figure before saying, “you look nice.”

A smile finds its way onto Y/N’s face as she lightly shoves Lorelai, stepping out of her apartment and locking the door behind her before the pair begins to head down the hall, “you look great as well!”

The click of their heels brings Y/N a satisfaction she cant describe as they exit the apartment complex, Y/N lived in a quiet area, an attempt to escape the unavoidable fame being a Pro Hero brought on. It was especially worse when you saw all the posts.

God, Twitter is insane, Y/N learnt that the hard way. Despite the fact that she and Bakugou Katsuki hadn’t been in the same room since graduation— for a reason— the internet had taken to shipping the pair. It was an idea that Y/N abhorred given her history with the boy. After all, they’d practically been butting heads since they met.

But it was appealing to the masses, the idea of someone “soft” like Y/N, someone known for their charity work and kindness, their sweet smile and endless optimism. And someone... like Bakugou. Harsh, almost ill-mannered and rude— though there was no denying that he’d made progress since their UA days, not that Y/N could confirm this seeing as she hadn’t seen him in so long. That and the fact that last she checked, most of the major headlines involving Bakugou were... not very positive.

Y/N started to avoid social media once she discovered this ship. She and Bakugou didn’t have the best relationship during their time at UA, it was practically a rivalry in their last year especially.

“All your friends are going to be there.” Lorelai hummed, scrolling through her phone as she side eyed Y/N, the pair slipping inside a limo with ease once they stepped out of building, met by one of many men that Lorelai had hired. She had insisted that now that Y/N was a Pro Hero, she’d be a target too. And of course, her publicist was right.

Her brow raises, as she settles in the car, deciding to simply reply, “yes, I’m aware they’ll all be there.” It’s a curious comment, seeing as it was an obvious fact. They were all heroes, and given their history with UA, well... the world had been anticipating their debuts for a while. Meaning they all quickly rose to fame, some faster than others, and some remaining in the spotlight far longer.

Surprisingly, Y/N was included in that bunch, unsurprisingly, Bakugou, Todoroki and Midoriya were as well. Tokoyami had also carved out a nice spot for himself at Hawks’ agency, and Yaoyorozu had managed to become a sidekick to a rather renowned upcoming hero.

Y/N had also earned a spot at Hawks’ agency, the man demanding her presence because she had “reminded him of himself,” for some reason. And seeing as he was one of the top heroes, who was she to disagree? The man seemed to understand her desire for distance, allowing her to go on missions that tended to be further out from where she’d grown up. And she was more thankful for the space.

She’d taken to philanthropy as soon as the money started coming in. Y/N had never understood just how much money Pro Heroes made until she was earning it as well. Although, seeing as she wasn’t ranked all that high, it wasn’t until she started branching out and doing other work that it became ridiculous.

“All of your friends, Ms. L/N.” Lorelai looks up to her, brow raised as she crosses her legs, resting her clasped hands on top of them.

Y/N offers her a tight lipped smile before waving her off, “I told you to call me Y/N, we’ve known each other how long?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Sighing, Y/N shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyes drifting towards the window to see there are already dozens of flashing lights lined up, surrounding the venue of the gala, hoping to catch one of the Pro Heroes before anyone else does.

With a sigh, Lorelai directs her eyes outside as well, hands clasped together as she straightens herself in her seat, “funny isn’t it? That such a vital job requires so much publicity?” A tight lipped smile forms on their face, “I suppose I should be grateful for it. After all, it’s the reason I have a job but...”

But, Y/N hated it, and so did Lorelai.

“It’s horrid that my dress matters more than any life I save.”

And with that, the car comes to a stop. Alerting them that they’ve arrived, coupled with a short and swift knock on the door to signal that it’s time to get out.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N looks back to Lorelai, who takes out a pocket mirror and removes her glasses, Lorelai eyes herself in the mirror momentarily, blinking once, twice, before saying, “most people don’t bring their publicists to such events you know.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N, and she knows its Lorelai’s attempt at helping her wind down before going inside, though she replies, “you’re more than my publicist.” Offering her a smile, Y/N simply says, “and why suffer alone when I can bring my friend, and who else will make sure I don’t do anything dumb?”

It was true, it was always nice to have a partner at such functions, someone to hang around or return to. Or more accurately, someone to use as an excuse to leave the more annoying conversations. Though Lorelai always enjoyed the free foods and gift bags— that had items worth more than her rent, Lorelai had once said— and agreed to join Y/N/

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai simply knocks at the door, letting their chauffeur know it’s time before momentarily turning back to Y/N as they say, “ladies first.”

And with that, the door opens, revealing the pair to the world and exposing them to all the flashing lights of the mob awaiting them. People shouting out her Pro Hero name, Empatha.

Named for her quirk, Empathic Mimicry. Granting her to use the ability of those she touches for as long as she wants. However, in that period of time, she can feel their emotions and pain, and the quirk she uses comes with the setbacks of the user. If the person she touches is quirkless, it is possible to get other skills of theirs, but once again there are setbacks.

Todoroki spent much of his free time at UA theorizing that she and Monoma Neito were secretly related in some way. Monoma on the other hand, seemed bitter about the fact that Y/N was “a better version” of him. Despite this, the memory of Todoroki’s odd question brings a genuine smile to her face as she steps onto the red carpet, swiftly making her way past as she waves towards the cameras.

It’s just as overwhelming as it was the first time. And the second time. And the time after that. Even if Y/N had taught herself to control her abilities, no longer feeling the emotions of those surrounding her. But she didn’t need her ability to feel the excitement, anxiety— and worst of all the ambition. Ambition tended to be dangerous in the hero world. The reason behind unnecessary deaths, and exposed scandals. In Y/N’s experience it was a dangerous emotion, but she wouldn’t deny it had produced some impressive people.

The lights are blinding as Y/N maneuvers inside, colliding with someone, warm hands come to rest on her forearms as the person in question mutters out, “watch where you’re going.”

Y/N finds herself freezing, recognizing him almost instantly. By the time her eyes have readjusted to the light, she finds that Bakugou is staring right back at her, mouth gaped open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Y/N scoffs, tearing her arm from his grasp as he quickly as she attempts to collect herself, inhaling deeply.

Y/N probably should’ve guessed it was him from the screams, pose for a picture! Why don’t you two get a little closer! Can you comment on your relationship? They’re yelling for Bakugou too, wondering why he finally decided to make an appearance. Y/N is curious as well, for different reasons of course.

Bakugou is rolling his eyes before she can continue, “please, it’s not like I wanted to see you either.”

Y/N nods slowly, offering him a bitter smile as she inhaled deeply— taking a few steps back. “Great to see you Bakugou, truly.” Sarcasm dripping from her tone as she stands beside him begrudgingly, putting on a false smile, “I hate you just as much as I used to.”

Pausing, Bakugou’s hand comes to hover over her waist, as he stares into the cameras, muttering, “why?”

“We both have reputations to maintain, do we not?” Comes her response, looking to him, Y/N reminds herself not to scowl as she straightens herself beside him, waving to a group of people and inciting more screams as she beams from beside Bakugou.

His laugh is a bitter one as he replies, “right.” Y/N inhales shakily, removing herself from Bakugou as she offers him a sarcastic smile, “thanks for the show, Sweetheart, but you aren’t all that important. You aren’t doing me any favors right now.”

A laugh escapes her, and the number of flashes increases exponentially, only for her to turn to Bakugou and say, “really now? Well, I suppose you’re right I’m not important seeing as you’re the one on the front page every week for a different scandal.” Bakugou looks away, scoffing, and Y/N nearly flips him off before reminding herself where she is and saying, “And I don’t want your thanks. I don’t want anything from you.”

And then she’s off, offering tight lipped smiles to those around her as she moved further into the venue for the gala, grabbing a drink off the tray of a passing waiter, Y/N mumbled out words of thanks before downing the drink instantly. Making her way past each person when a hand grabs her wrist.

“Y/N?”

Izuku Midoriya, better known as Pro Hero Deku, had intercepted Y/N on her way to the sanctuary of every party. The bathroom. Though he was probably the best person to have caught her, and undoubtedly someone she actually wanted to speak with. Y/N had a feeling he could tell something was wrong from the way he looked at her, concern clear in his eyes, Izuku was always easy to read. But she had somewhere to be and—

And Bakugou would be entering anytime soon. And what infuriated Bakugou more than she did? Izuku Midoriya.

So, Y/N puts a smile on her face as she says, “hey Midoriya.” She clears her throat, moving to stand beside him as she asks, “how are you doing?”

He beams back at her, his smile as genuine as ever as he responds, “I’m well! And so are you it seems, there are rumors that you’ll be entering the top 100 heroes this year, you know?”

Y/N had heard such rumors as well, if they were true, she’d be the first of her class to become a part of the top 100. Seeing as they were still basically fresh out of UA, it would be quite the achievement for her to do so at such a young age. Rivaling the progression of even Pro Hero Hawks.

Raising a brow Y/N shoves him lightly, “scouting out the competition are you, Midoriya?”

Midoriya’s eyes widen and he immediately begins shaking his head as his cheeks flush a bright red, “absolutely not!” He exclaims, “I’m just so amazed by how far you’ve come and it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

A small laugh escapes her at his reaction, her eyes drifting towards her empty glass as she replies, “well I have no doubt that if I do miraculously enter the top 100, you’ll be close behind.” Inhaling deeply, she meets his eyes, “now if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to the restroom when you caught me.” Once again, his cheeks flush a light pink as he begins to sputter apologies, and Y/N simply smiles as she says, “but we should definitely catch up sometime soon, maybe we can hang out sometime soon?”

A bashful smile finds its way onto his face as he nods slowly, “yeah. I would like that.”

And with that, Y/N waves goodbye to him continuing to the bathroom and managing to avoid any more conversations though few tried. Likely hoping for some good publicity themselves, she could see people beginning to swarm Deku in the distance now— and Y/N finds herself feeling bad that she left him so soon.

But as Y/N makes her way inside the restroom, it finally hits her.

Lorelai meant it when she said all her peers are coming, the woman had probably meant it as a warning. It was rare for Bakugou to attend social events, especially since they rarely ended well when it came to him. Most days, he ended up the headline of every single news sources when it came to his public events, rarely did Bakugou have a good run in with the press. Y/N was shocked he’d made it this far in the hero industry with his poor reputation only worsening at every event.

Oh she needed a drink. Y/N needed a lot of drinks. She couldn’t do this right now, not at all.

But more importantly, she needed fun, she needed lots of fun. So, taking one last look at the mirror, Y/N inhales deeply before exiting the restroom, spotting Izuku Midoriya almost instantly. She makes her way towards him, calling out for him, “Midoriya!” Her words distract him from his conversation, drawing the attention of those around then and the people who were initially speaking to him.

The boy seems relieved that someone has come to save him from whatever conversation he was having, waving to Y/N as he says, “Y/N?”

A grin comes onto her face as she extends a hand to him, looking to those around him, “sorry to interrupt but—” She turns back to Izuku, “may I have this dance?

He offers her a nervous smile, only sparing those around him a glance as he replies, “definitely.”

And with that, she drags him to the dance floor, and Y/N can feel the eyes on her as she does. It certainly is a curious sight. Two of the big up and coming heroes heading to the dance floor together after barely any public interactions. Y/N is sure that once the word gets out the internet will be going insane, and so will the press. Weaving together stories of insanity to boost their readership.

At this rate, Y/N didn’t care.

This was Y/N L/N’s first mistake of the night, but it certainly wouldn’t be her last seeing as by the end of the night, Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki would be on every front page and headline.

note: lmk how this was pls i need validation <3

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