#also I find (at first at least) that the best thing to do when you in see nice art is check the blog
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
kooyabooya · 10 hours ago
Text
INSIGHT
m reader x gaeul // 17k words
Tumblr media
It’s not much to unpack: the findings or purpose one pursues. You know this. Everybody’s different, and that’s not limited to the sex - it also accounts for the experiences and connections you make with someone, exploring the limitless possibilities of what or who you want in your life. You’ve been told that the ‘one’ might be out there and have yet to realize it. No one could ever really pin it down to one reason. 
But what’s there to overreact about? You’re a hopeless romantic. 
Okay. To backtrack on the hopeless romantic thing, that’s not entirely true; you’re on the eve of something big here, and the intuition is approaching that conclusion by the second. 
None of this should be that easy from the get-go. Delving into casual conversation to the nice meals and then the eventual ditziness finds you and her on the bed of fucking each other’s brains out until one of you is practically paralyzed from the waist down. That’s the essential beauty of it, right? The hints and signals are right in front of your face; all it takes is a simple notice of interest that can lead anyone to think if they feel the same way. 
You’re not entirely sure, but taking this date with a grain of salt was the best course of action to follow. Besides, it’s too early to delude yourself into thinking about a future with Gaeul. 
(Though, it’s worth noting: 
She never coined it to be a date; said that it was too direct on the nose. In all fairness, you just needed a plus one to tag along with you. It could’ve been anybody else, but Gaeul was the first person to come to mind. You and her have similar interests - a point of connection strong enough to expand on. She didn’t mind keeping you company, and the fact that she was willing to circles your mind far longer than it should’ve.) 
Which brings you to here: standing in front of a timely art piece that looks to be dated from the 1600s. Or- at least that’s what the plaque says on the bottom left corner of the frame. However, you also feel like the people in the room with you are also playing their role like they do in those typical romance movies or serial dramas. You also begin to wonder if people go to an art museum in their free time just to look at fine pieces curated by people who have an obsession for old pictures or to dress up to match the aesthetic and pretend that they know what the hell they’re talking about. 
Given how you’ve dressed up for the occasion, they’d probably be right.
Gaeul herself matches the look so well. Her stilettos are one thing, but the bright-colored skirt along with her high socks are doing wonders for highlighting her legs, with her old-fashioned pink top that looks to be from the Victorian era simply bolsters the elegance past your personal rating scale. She’s also got her slightly-thick-rimmed glasses and the low braided ponytail wrapped in a small bow at the end. You can’t deny it, she’s gorgeous. The kind of girl that’s hard to come by and you’ve struck yourself out of the ballpark by getting her here. She walks at a pace, her strut consistent and punctuated with the way her feet are carrying her. It doesn’t help with the fact that you keep thinking about how you’d hold her hanging ponytail when her head is between your legs, or how she’d let you take off her socks with solely your teeth and show that you do more than just run your mouth. You stand behind her by a few inches and just watch that amazing side profile of hers, molded and chiseled by God himself. 
Her eyes stay fixed on the piece in front of her. Blinking. Examining. You resist the urge to stand behind her and bury your nose in the back of her head. 
You look away for a second only to hear her sigh, and watch as her arms cross over her middle. The stance alone can tell you that she’s the kind of girl that will do damage to you whether you like it or not. 
“I don’t know,” says Gaeul, looking left to notice you approach her left side, pointing her lips back to the art piece as you give it a fraction of your attention - staring at Gaeul with the corner of your eyes, thinking of all the ideas your hands could have on her pretty face, her small hands, lifting her by the waist when she hugs you. “This isn’t the actual ‘Starry Night’ painting, is it?” 
You laugh, because the question itself was supposed to be rhetorical. “No, it is. Not a replica. The real thing.” 
“No, but look,” Gaeul slips her hand around your arm and pulls you closer while she points out to the painting again with her finger. You’ve had crushes on girls throughout high school and college, but there’s a sense of a pull here that’s different from the rest. “This is something that you would do, hm?” 
You lean more closely at the painting and feel her face rest along the line of your upper arm. The picture itself was a mix of these yellow circles over a blue canvas - you think - has to do something about admiring the view that nature presents, which explains the artist’s approach with the usage of the abnormal brushstrokes. “Right.” You get the underlying appeal of the painting’s message, that’s for sure. 
Gaeul giggles, humming a sound too elegant and pretty for its own sake. You’re playing it cool as best you can. It’s a lot to keep track of her sparkling eyes so full of you within them that you’re nervous to even speak a coherent sentence. She looks dangerously good in her outfit: hugging the curves, the collars and ends of her sleeves dancing in these wavy, coquettish lines. That hint of lace she’s wearing is also cute - only for it to be outshined by her exposed collarbones and neck. 
(So, you might be insane here. Try acting differently about it all you want. It’s no use.)
Gaeul then looks at the art piece adjacent to the right - twists her head behind, eyeing the walkway, her gaze now matching yours, cocking her head to the side with her lips pursed. 
“Hmm?” she hums, innocently. There’s a minute tug at the corners of her mouth, a small smile. Her teeth start to peek under her upper lip. 
You’re holding your breath here for a second or two longer. 
“Uh, I didn’t say anything,” you tell her, pulling your lips inward to hide your returning smirk. 
Before you and her move to the next room, you’ve deduced that a woman like Gaeul is no mere anomaly. She is intangible, quixotic, reserved, sensible, and the kind of person who doesn’t let anyone get too close for her comfort. There’s a motivation to be seen with her, the way that her grin and shrug of her singular shoulder gives you the implication that she’s into you. Your gaze goes inquisitive when she’s sashaying timidly further and further away from your sight. 
Let’s take a step back here - go to the drawing board, make a new page. There’s substantial progress here. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have your input solicited. 
Gaeul looks through her handbag, pulls out various items, puts on hand cream and retouches the makeup on her face. You’re on the other end of the table, watching her, listening to the guy nearby do a fantastic take of Take Five on the saxophone with flying colors. Gaeul’s also waving her head from side to side, closing her eyes with a soft smile spread across her lips implying that she likes the music. 
As for the art museum trip itself, you don’t take anything away from what you were supposed to look at and write down - probably because the focus shifted from taking notes to getting a conversation going with Gaeul whenever she was curious about a certain piece or at least your interpretation of what work itself. One of the other pieces that you and her take notice of was from your courses that you don’t remember learning a mere inkling about. A piece from the romanticism era revolved around these two lovers, one of them being madly in love while the other is still trying to figure out their feelings and desires, or vice versa; it may be unappealing for your outlook in artistry, but once you saw the meaning behind the paintbrush and use of strokes, the feeling hits too close to home. 
“From this artwork, what do you want us to take away from it,” someone probably asked back then - the same kind of question that earns a few eye rolls and those heavy sighs used to hide the bubbling frustration within, gets a good number of people scratching the back of their head - though nobody answers it right away unless it’s the professor. 
“Well, that’s not for me to decide,” the professor answers, earning a subtle nod of the head by her, the way the shade of her hair shimmers in the room and how it flows at the turn of her head, glimpses of her skin for you to admire once she has nothing left to say, almost like she was speaking those words to you - waiting for your answer. “The personal interpretation of the painting has to be discovered on your own.” 
In a way, he has a valid point. He’s knowledgeable enough to know what he preaches. He’s passionate about this course alone and it really could take a simple business pitch with a pen to get on board with what he’s selling. 
You have an idea of what message he’s trying to get across, but maybe you’ve got it all mixed up in between still. 
The groove of discovery isn’t a straightforward, linear path. Some days your understanding is there, and other times it’s all up in the air; you’re stopping by a food truck near some plaza in the early hours of the evening off the gut feeling that it just feels right; you also find yourself staring at her wide eyes when she gets the first taste of those potato chips she convinced you to buy, wiping a corner of her lips with her tongue. 
It’s almost too good to be true, honestly, that she’s sitting next to you at a park bench as the sky above is painted in these hues of purple and orange to reflect off the sunset, her appearance mimicking royalty and you - her knight in shining armor. She looks up to the sky before offering you her bag of chips, the tilt of her head and how she blinks is so - unbelievably enchanting like she’s unintentionally guilt-tripping you even though you’ve done nothing wrong at all. You take up on her offer, keep a mental note of how she’s so attentive in the way that your hands move and the way that your lips punctuate each letter and phrase so eloquently. Her bottom lip is pulled back into her mouth, holding the foil in her fingers so delicately. 
You can easily tell. She’s enamored; she keeps hitting your arm lightly and plays along with your inside jokes; there’s also that smirk she does in embarrassment and tries to hide away from but you’re still staring at her anyway. 
She stays close to you. Comfortable. Exactly the way you want her to be. You could kiss here right and now and she might be okay with it. You’ll try it eventually, because why not? 
Later, Gaeul walks slightly ahead of you, turns around, and takes your hands in hers, standing on her tiptoes to somewhat match your height. “I’m curious about your eyes, how they look,” she says, not that she meant for it to be embarrassing, but something that she’s noticed the first time and now she can’t ignore it. “They’re enchanting.” 
“Your smile,” you say back. She flashes that exact smile, wearing it with pride. “I like when you smile that way.” 
“My smile is always like this.” 
You sweep her off her feet and twirl yourself around. A finger pulls some of her hair behind her ear, grazing a thumb across her temple, careful enough to not ruin the surface. 
Gaeul looks up. Her head leans into the touch of your hand, inviting. 
This is where it all starts; a genesis of sorts: you drink in the sight of how she is right now, half-lidded eyes, her hands slipping behind to the back of your neck, pulling you in; you, leaning into her body, hands sliding and dipping to the curves where she wants you to hold, keep her in your grasp and unravel her bit by bit; it’s fine to be skeptical, figuring out something new is all part of the learning process. 
You turn your imagination into a reality when you finally kiss her. 
The pull of her into you elicits this gentle hum rumbling within her lips. Given how her fingertips were clawing into your scalp for a second there, she didn’t even put up a fight to begin with. 
The realization of losing her also sets in for a quick moment, the silence alone holding out for longer than it initially should. She continues to blink, teeth capturing the upper profile of her lip just slightly. You might be a bit too forward, but you’re waiting to see what she thinks before you consider dialing it back. 
“That’s not fair-” she stutters, tongue to the inside of her cheek, laughing and then tapping your shoulder soon after. “Normally, I- I’d hold out until we got a little farther with how things are currently.” You also notice that she’s not opting to be let go from your touch, or give you this look of confusion with wide-open eyes or a hand covering her mouth. Her fingertip traces along her lips, internalizing what had just happened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been wanting to do that since the second you saw me earlier. ‘Cause if you were, then I’m in really deeper shit than I expected.” 
“Might be right,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m not the kind of person to half-ass things. Not my style.” 
“Troublesome,” Gaeul whispers across your lips. You steal a kiss from her again, and this time she gives you a shocked expression. “Hey, again-” 
You’re laughing, rightfully so. She’s pulled into your arms as you spin her around - hearing her laugh also when she’s cradling your head, bringing her back down to earth only for her to kiss you the next second, with more force and tongue. She doesn’t stop there. She keeps on kissing, prompting you to give a fair fight. It’s free reign for her - first, the cheek, then the line of your jaw, and the spot where your chin and neck meet that sends your mind reeling. 
Gaeul then takes one more kiss before the bus makes its eventual stop, pulling you by the wrist to get inside and take one of the seats at the end of the car, away from whoever might take notice. From there she picks up where she left off; her legs are swung over yours, her fingers keep your head in place as she’s placing these sweaty kisses all over your face once more, causing you to rope her in and slide a hand underneath her shirt to her chest. 
“Putting the effort where it counts, huh?” she says when you shift her hips closer to yours. Her giggles are also so pretty that it matches the hot blush colored across her face. 
You look over to the rest of the bus, take into account that there was one other person on the opposite end towards the front with their back turned. “Did you have any other place in mind where you want me to do this?” 
“No,” Gaeul responds with an absorbed smirk. “Not at all, I like what you’re doing so far,” she’s telling you, upholding with a press of her forehead against yours. “It’s riling me up a bit, actually.” 
“Oh? That so?” 
Gaeul nods, leaning in for a much softer peck this time, wiping a wisp of your hair. “Don’t be shy, keep going.” 
You blink twice at the surprising request, figuring out how to handle this situation - let alone what to say or even do at this point. All of that doesn’t matter when all she wants is you. One second later you’re kissing her again - with much more force through every passing press of your lips until the only thing that she can manage is to tilt her chin up and keep on receiving. Two more pecks couldn’t hurt, and she’s giggling when her hand’s patting your chin, kissing her palm to return the favor. 
“How am I doing now?” You ask her again, pressing another kiss to her neck right where the pulse courses rapidly underneath. 
Gaeul’s breaths here are dragged out and unshackled; you’re already thinking ahead of what she’ll sound like when she’s reduced to a moaning mess asking for more. She’s on track there but it’ll take a little bit. She nods - and holds your head at bay, “Okay.” That first response is controlled, feeling out the situation. “Okay,” she repeats, her teeth are peeking out across that pretty little mouth of hers. The hum in her throat drops an octave: “you’re doing really good.” 
Like you needed any other form of implication; the way that she’s playfully scratching your scalp, eagerly leaning for another kiss, this is good stuff you’re doing. Stay in the pocket with her, and continue doing those same things. 
You have to hear that sound from her again. No. You need to hear that sound come out of that sweet mouth, as you slide your hand between her closed legs - pull her closer, closer - and get her within your reach once your palm slips beneath her skirt, feel the sudden hook of her arms around your neck keep her in place. She presses her legs together, trying to maintain the heat in her panties once your fingertips get their first touches. Gaeul hums into your lips, encouraging you, and gives the go-ahead as she opens the space wider in the middle of her thighs for you to capture - her body much rucked up against yours, trying so hard to not come loose. You’ll double down on the reassurance, that’s for sure. 
“Fingers, your fingers,” Gaeul grits, hissing; she’s unraveling. “Holy fuck-” 
Her fingers are well wrapped to the nape of your neck. You can see her brows furrowed together - the lines of her face crinkling; only for them to disappear entirely, relaxed. She forgets about reality for a moment when you slot your lips perfectly with hers, sinking two of your fingers right down the knuckle of her sopping cunt. You watch as she looks down, lips parted to an ‘o’ shape. 
“Fuck, that’s-” she’s babbling, putting her mouth back up with yours - forcing down a moan into your throat, trying to figure out the next thing to say. “Forget what I said, that’s amazing.” 
She pulls her in close as much as possible, hips bucking and jerking when your fingers glide gently between her folds, at the slit. It’s worth noting that the gentler your strokes are, the worse it is for her - so you keep the pace slow for now, waste as much time as you can, dip a finger inside, and focus on the graveled breathing by her through every passing second. 
“You like that, hm?” You’re telling her. “Gotta say, you’re fucking wet.” 
Gaeul tenses her shoulders. “I know,” she whispers, thighs closing around your hand. You’re kissing her again - open tongue and head tilted back when you bring another digit into play - her moans are hot, curling your fingers inside and pressing at the clit to keep her from thinking straight, pressing at the hottest point in her body until Gaeul eventually buries herself in your neck, stifling her whimpers when she’s cumming all over your fingers. 
“Wow,” you say, breathlessly, smiling as she leans up gingerly to put a kiss to your chin, a job well done.
“Yeah,” mumbles Gaeul. “Yeah.” 
You look over to see the person sitting on the opposite end of the car, their back still turned and hunched over; you take that as a hint that they’re probably knocked out cold. Gaeul’s fingers pull your gaze back into her, her face hot pink. She’s got this lazy smile spread on her lips, breathing with her hand palmed to your cheek, eyes dazed and out of focus. 
You then decide that you can’t help yourself anymore. Laying her down on the seat and eating her pussy out right here. You can’t stop thinking about it, looking up as her upper half crumbles while she cums on your face. She can try to make you stop if her brain isn’t partly mush, can try all she wants to stop you kissing from down her waist and into her thighs or wrapping your fingers around her legs once you’ve got your mouth clamped to her cunt like it’s nothing - you’ve got her laid back and relaxed, hands sliding south past her middle, thinking of all the pretty noises that you can squeeze from that heavenly voice of hers - Gaeul looks up once her hands meet yours at her hips, unwilling to let you go. 
You smile at her before you’re biting your lips without thinking twice. 
The way that she says your name too, does something to your brain, man. She needs you. 
You almost feel bad to be the one asking for permission first: 
“If I eat you out right here, Gaeul. Promise me that you’ll be quiet?” 
Gaeul’s mouth drops, before twisting into a devilish grin. 
She looks over to the same person you were looking at, lip captured by her teeth. “Worth a try,” she answers, still coming down from her high. Her eyes stay on you. The lust one can get is dangerously intoxicating - it may not look good on others, besides her - the shade of hot pink, her little swollen lips, the way that she has to use her fingernail to bite down. But her hand gently clutches your wrist. “Would you be nice if I said to go easy on me?” 
You snort at the question, only because her pleading eyes sell the whole deal to you anyway. 
“Asking a lot from me here, darling. No guarantees,” you tell her and descend between her spread legs. 
You keep spacing out since then: of her, the grip of her fingers deep in your hair; grinding her hips against your face as she’s trying to not yelp or shriek to not wake the poor guy sleeping - now completely giddy and well-relieved. She tried to crush your skull from the tongue fucking you were doing to her just ten or so minutes ago. Not to mention the cursing, it’s hard to believe she can say stuff like that. 
She also tells how thoughtful you are walking her back to her place; you know the area well enough to make your way back. You tell her that it’s nothing if anything, it was just more time to spend with you. 
Gaeul smiles at that, fixing up her hair like anyone would to keep her hands moving. Her eyes shoot towards the ground before they flashback up at you, which she’ll admit is a bit awkward for her standards. You can’t stop staring at her; she’s that pretty. It’d be worth preaching about for the rest of your life if it ever came to that. 
She hands you her phone and you’re doing the same -  a simple transaction. The subtle question of ‘it’s okay to call you on this, right?’ rolls off your teeth so easily to where Gaeul gives you a nod to answer. There’s a little bit of wiggle room to grow - filling in the gaps with details as we go - things that will be logged in eventually all with time. 
“I’ll be as blunt as possible: I want something fun,” she tells you as if she already had the general idea swirling around your head. Her fingers are fiddling with the zipper of your jacket. As if she wanted to say it differently but ended up with that. A lifeline or rope for you to hold on to - aware that the threads are tearing just a bit, but you’ll grab it anyway because you can. “I’ll bite at whatever you throw at me. Who knows, maybe I’ll do the same to even the odds.” 
Slapping a title or caption to this doesn’t always end well - if you’re gonna be honest, it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’ll go the way you hoped for. 
“You sure?” you’re asking, smiling. Since that’s the kind of trap that you were hoping to fall into anyway. In the face of love, you’ve always found yourself folding right at the first hurdle. 
Especially adding onto the fact that you and Gaeul have known each other to a slight degree; through mutuals, to be more specific. That’s one of the weird things that life can work with: instilling these thoughts about someone and telling them things knowing that it could all go wrong down the line; Gaeul rests her forearms on your shoulders, lets her fingers dance along the back of your head, and nod again with a yeah, you’re already infatuating to me as it already is. It’s so bad, she’s never dressed like this before when you’ve seen her with Liz or Wonyoung for that matter. Her chest and collarbones are out in the open air for you to mark up without remorse, tilting her head back with an arched eyebrow and sly smirk, don’t test me, because believe me, I’m gonna ruin your life from here on out. 
You may as well be far gone from the start. 
“It’s not that important,” you’re telling Gaeul over on FaceTime, tossing your phone onto the mattress and stretching out your limbs. Gaeul on the other end, groans in annoyance, though her voice is composed, playful. “I think we’re just stuck on a few things from what it looks like.” 
“But this project with Yujin is also one you mentioned a while back to me,” Gaeul responds, forehead filling the phone screen to check what you were doing, but all she sees is the ceiling. “What are you guys trying to achieve again?” 
“What would you do if you were assigned to discover a brand new constellation or galaxy all by yourself? You ask. “Spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it sounds.” 
“Maybe next time you should bring me to the observatory, that way I can see what it is you’re looking for,” Gaeul says with a lovely hum and laughs at the end of it.
She’s so cute when she’s playful; her voice alone is enough to make your brain chemistry go haywire. 
“Well, uh- you know Yujin,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “This is important to her. I honestly think that she’s trying to compartmentalize everyone that’s involved, which is a bit of an overreaction I think.” 
Gaeul then sighs, as if she too, is frustrated. “She’s a hard worker. From the outside looking in, maybe she just needs somebody to make her life interesting. Do you know what I mean? I think she’s sex deprived.” 
“You-” and you scrunch your nose, trying to hide a genuine laugh because you’ve been trying to say something along those lines to Yujin for god knows how long, and Gaeul flat-out said it in a matter of days. “You’re not wrong.” You then see her put the phone down facing up on the nightstand. “Her timetable is very slim, so I get why she can’t afford to have any distractions.” 
“Someone like her should always make time for sex.” 
“Are you always this forward?” 
“Not always, might be just for you.” 
“Consider me lucky,” you muse, tongue to the inside of your bottom lip. 
“You boys think of nothing else besides getting between a girl’s legs, huh?
Gaeuls face returns to the screen and all you give her is a pull of your lips inward. She nods when you don’t say anything, proving her suspicions right. You set her off to the side while you keep doing a separate thing to keep yourself occupied while she does the same. While you’re tending to your notes, you imagine Gaeul to be walking around her room; sitting on her bed, or moving to the bathroom or kitchen - keeping a close eye and ear on you and your voice because she’s got a fix on a few interests of yours that outweighs her own. She watches while you give her a few glances here and there. Staying on task was going to be difficult. You text her your address to pass the information without giving a reason as to why. You probably fucked up in that regard. You might’ve. 
(She puts a heart icon on the message to send your mind for a loop, telling you to think of it lightly; hey, show me what’s on the shelf behind you, see if you make your bed in the morning - and you’re carrying a conversation with her for more than an hour or so. She’s asking different kinds of questions; the ones that are along the lines of: How come you don’t have a roommate with you, where do you go for groceries, what’s the distance between your place and mine? The curiosity grows to uncover the mystery, you think. She’s laughing when you flash a look at her on the screen before you carry on with whatever task you are doing, acting all candidly when the both of you know well that you’re doing everything to not press the ‘end call’ button.)
“Wait,” Gaeul breathes, leaning closer through the phone screen. “Didn’t you offer to show me what you were working on over some food?” 
You’re side-eyeing away, hiding a smile. “I did mention that at the beginning but, yeah.” 
“Shoot, okay,” she huffs, dropping her face so that you only see the top of her head, pulling your lips inward to hide the smile. “How bout this: lace or no lace?” 
“Woah.” You freeze. “Hang on now.”
“Do you want me to explain it to you?” You could feel the slow-burning rush of heat spread across your cheeks. The phone screen flashes in your hand, and she chuckles. “Easy, cowboy. I know you want to jump the gun with me, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts before I do anything else.” 
You’re picturing it once she’s managed to break you, bending down to slip her panties back on, stretching the ends until she lets go and the fabric slaps along her skin. She can’t see it, but your mind goes under. When Gaeul presents it so innocently in the way that it is, it’s hard to believe that she’s able to bend your ego with a few simple words and actions. 
“The image of lace - on your body? I wouldn’t share that with anyone else.” 
She rolls her eyes, and hums a sing-song tone to tease you. “Alright, don’t tell me you’re getting hard just at the thought of that.” You drop your jaw and that earns you a deadpan. “Would you mind if I surprise you with a color of my choice?” 
“You know my color. Well- I don’t think too much of the color. I’m easy to impress,” you reply, nonchalant. 
“Oh, I can take my time with the color. It’s just a matter of how long you can hold out.” She’s not posing it as a threat, but the low tone in the delivery is enough to instill a small fear in the back of your mind. 
“Pfft, that doesn’t scare me.” 
“We’ll see about that. When do you want me to come?” she asks, genuinely. 
You make eye contact with her to ensure she’s serious. 
“I mean,” you start. The more your mouth freezes, the more embarrassing it gets. “Whenever you can. If you’re free.” 
Here, Gaeul tilts her head, confident smirk and tongue to her cheek. “Maybe my punishment is to make you wait. I don’t like the dry response and straight face on top of it. That’s not your look.” 
“What do you even achieve out of doing that?” you ask. “You’re holding me out from-” 
“Yes, you’ll get between my legs again like last time. But I think you can give me more than that, which I’m sure about. Make me scream until I lose my voice or I somehow lose the ability to walk. Does that sound good to you?” 
Part of you likes the fact that she’s got no filter; speaking her mind whenever it feels right.
“Sounds like a test to me,” you muse, taking the challenge head-on. You’re not the kind to back away, let alone have any reason to impress her. You’ll prove your point again when the time is right. 
“Give me twenty minutes,” she says to you. The information comes as need to know, anticipatory. You’re teasing her to get here faster: come to my place sooner and we can skip the boring exposition and do more interesting stuff together. “I promise not to keep you waiting.”
The time ticks a lot faster and when you realize it, three or four knocks are sounding off on your right. A scuffle of your socks, a swing of the door later, and voila: Gaeul’s in the middle of your doorway, reflecting the same head tilt you’re giving her before she leans forward for a few kisses. It’s real-life b-roll footage, the snapshots and captured moments of love that everyone longs for in some way or another; you’re living in it. 
“Mhm,” she hums, arms well wrapped around your neck with wrists stacked. She smells good, her body lighter than usual, letting you pull her closer because she knows you will. “Looks like somebody missed me.” 
“Uh uh,” you breathe, laughing in the open space of your mouths, shuffling into the apartment some more, stumbling. Gaeul’s keeping her attire easy with a pair of baggy bottoms that’ll slip so easily out of her legs once you get her to stop moving- 
“I’ll have you know that I thought long and hard about what to wear,” adds Gaeul, standing still and taking her sneakers off one foot at a time, her hair pooling from one side to the other. “But then it hit me, why not just keep it casual?” 
“Explains the comfy combo,” you’re telling her. You don’t even realize the bag brandished on her shoulder. “Is that-” 
“Exactly what it looks like. I don’t have anything tomorrow, so I figured I’d use my downtime more wisely.” 
This is fun. Sure, it’s the playful banter, mixed in with the flirting. You’re using every self-restraint you’ve got in your head to not pin her over on the couch and put her hips against yours. 
You simply can’t help it. The law of attraction that’s taking place: you like her, and it can’t get any more complicated than that. You’re positive that she feels the same way - to some extent. She rubs the neckbone at the nape, twiddles the ends of your hair. The smile she has is infectious, watches as your eyes wander across the lines of her face, almost like you discovered fire. Gaeul’s lips then fall flat, nodding. This is the second or third time you’re seeing her exclusively, each one more exciting than the last. 
“Hungry?” 
Gaeul shakes her head, “Hm, kinda.” 
“You’re in luck,” you beam. “I was gonna whip something up anyway.” 
“Aw, how thoughtful.” She tells you when you’re setting her down, walking over to the dining table with her setting her bag down, following not too far behind. While you’re getting yourself situated, she takes the time to let her head look and observe all the things organized on your shelves and tables, a peek into the inner workings of what makes you tick. You could feel her gaze on you once you’ve got yourself situated at the stove and she finally settles down at the kitchen island, opposite from you with a front-row seat. 
You throw a towel on your shoulder, playing the measly bartender part loosely. “Water?” 
Gaeul blinks, hums a noise serving as a yes. 
“This is just for starters,” you tell her, sliding a glass across the marble before eying the brandy resting at the top of the fridge. “If you want, we can get the good drinks later when we’re bored.” 
“I’d like that.” 
“Want me to explain why Yujin’s project has been a pain in my ass as of recently?” 
She dips her head down, hiding her smile. 
“I think I can think of a few reasons why she can be a handful for some people,” she says, sipping a bit of the water before she gestures her head to the fridge, wanting to get right to business without wasting any time. “But you care a little too much, so we need to ease your mind a little.” 
“Just trying to not be overbearing; because she’s a piece of work, but I love working with her regardless,” you tell her. Next thing you know the brandy’s been brought down on the counter. While you’re doing that, you’re finding the gaps in her schedule. When’s the next time you’re free? There’s the proposal that you’ll bring her out for a nice picnic, drinks with charcuterie, maybe toss in painting to the mix while you’ll blatantly stare at her cottagecore dress with a wine glass in her hand- 
“Are these your notes?” She asks, pulling one of your many notebooks closer to flip through the pages, looking at the different constellations that are already there, the ones that are easy to recognize. Her eyes dart to you when you’re sliding over a different cup filled with brandy for her to take, taking a sip while you glance over at the two sandwiches on your pan. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is quite a lot of work she has you doing.” 
“The name of the game, essentially,” you’re grinning, transferring over a tablet with pictures of different stars and galaxies from an album you curated. Some are straight out of a textbook, the others you and Yujin have found on separate occasions. 
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually a nerd?” Gaeul asks, mockingly, swiping the screen as you give her an unimpressed expression. 
You crowd behind her shoulder, going through the gallery, leaning her head against yours as your nose brushes her cheek, sighing in approval. Your hands have a mind of their own, slithering around her waist, planting a kiss on her neck - just to tease. Hey, you’re not fooling anyone here. 
“So you’re telling me that Yujin’s been trying to find a constellation of love somewhere in the stars instead of an actual person? Okay-” she holds in her laugh, leaning into your touch with another kiss. “Sorry, I- I can’t help myself, she’s a handful with this.” 
“Food’s ready, by the way,” you tell her. “I can talk about my side of things in the meantime.” 
Gaeul, effortless as she is, listens attentively. 
Her elbows are on the table top, most of the sandwich eaten as she keeps her eyes fixated on you. She watches while you’re giving her the basic rundown of what’s going on with your work life to the best of your ability - stops you midway, points to a spot under the corner of your lip, prompting you to check it yourself, which you do. By some klutzy move, you miss it - probably on purpose, enabling her into telling you to lean closer for her to wipe it herself, and with a downward tilt of your face, she hides away for a moment. It’s that implication of playfulness that gives way to curiosity, that sense of restlessness where sex was always going to be the eventual inevitability.  She wipes whatever was on your chin with her thumb, and keeps it there. Next thing you know, her lips are on yours. 
You’re fighting the press of her lips, leaning forward. Her hands suddenly palm your chest, pushing you back into the chair; the conquest picks up when she straddles herself on top of your hips, grazing her lips and nose across your face. The rush itself dies down for a bit - taking the sweet time of tasting each other’s lips and sucking the air out of one another. 
For someone like her to kiss you so eagerly. You’d let her do just that. 
Her jacket gets taken off smoothly, and her bottoms are pulled a bit to where you can see a hint of her underwear, holding her by the hips. 
The fucking lace, alright. She looks unreal the way it hugs her figure. 
At this point you’re just hypnotized by her hands and lips, undoing some of the buttons on your shirt, sliding her way down until the trail of kisses reaches the lower regions. Your pants and boxers pool at your ankles, kicking them off. She kisses the inside of your thighs, lets her breath coat your balls before a lick of the underside shifts your hips forward to the edge of the chair. Her pretty little mouth reaches your tip, delicately kissing it; she knows what the fuck she’s doing. 
“You’ve been fantasizing about this for a little, haven’t you?” Gaeul teases, pleased. She grins when she wraps her fingers at the base, sighs when you hiss some of the air out your lungs. Her breasts are fighting the bra containing them. She then opens her mouth a bit, drops her head, sinks - fuck. The seal alone is just the right amount of pressure. “How much am I willing to bet you yanked one out after our first date?” 
Your midsection tenses, balling your fists because there’s nothing else you would rather do than push your hips upward and fill her throat; not to shut her up, but give her an idea of what she’s in for if she doesn’t play nice. 
You know that she won’t. 
“Well- you’re right. I did exactly that. How did you-” you blow air out instantaneously when she moves down halfway to your shaft, her eyes rolling back as she’s forcibly choking down your cock. Some of the spit leaks out of her mouth, coating the skin, soaking her bottom lip. Some of it lands on her chest. 
“-ust my kind of guess. Now how much are you willing to bet you’ll ruin me with this cock of yours?” she asks once more, giving you no time to answer when she’s putting her head between your legs, suffocating herself before popping her lips off the tip, slapping your shaft across her cheek. “Shouldn’t take you that long, huh?” 
The way she’s smiling while talking you through this filth, it’s gonna break you. You need her. You need her mouth right back on your fucking cock before she entertains the idea of blue balling you to oblivion. “I’m slightly worried that you won’t be able to handle this. Maybe I should just hop on your cock and let you have your fun while you fill me up-” 
“So f-fucking bad, you are,” you grit, stuttering. 
Consider this as karma coming full circle: Gaeul breaking you just by her being on her knees, lapping away your cock while you had your fun eating her out in the back of the bus back to her place less than forty-eight hours ago, holding her close while you made a mess of her underwear with your fingers. She was trying so hard to be quiet, covering her mouth while you were fucking her open. 
“Aw, that’s unfortunate,” she tells you, dropping her mouth again, hand cupping beneath your balls, working her way down your shaft even more. 
Her bobs are meticulous and calculated. The levels of stimulation are over the scale you drew up in your head, and when she gets her other hand in the fun - twisting the base while the one at your balls are being squeezed, you draw your head back against the chair. 
It’s all in the slow buildup: the soft pumps, the occasional spit slathered as the sound of skin on skin becomes even more obscene. Her fingers coil your base when she takes you in that enveloping heat, humming down your cock until you feel the gentle graze of her teeth on the topside, eyes open and going cross-eyed. You’re struggling to come to terms that this girl was the same girl that was dressed up so nicely and princess-like in the art museum asking you and wondering what was the meaning of all these pieces. 
But then you’re reminded, that all of it is just the surface level of certain things - once you get to know someone, you learn as you go along with them. Gaeul just blinks through every move of her head at your hips, coating your cock endlessly and teasing to the point where she wants to see that side of you that you’re capable of showing her - to make you bust over and over again until you filled up her cunt where she’s begging for more, watch as she gets herself off if you’re away from her for too long, break her like it’s meant to be a daily routine from here on out - which will happen, Gaeul’s good enough to get you there sooner than you think, her pretty little lips, her dainty hands, that fucking tongue - you’ll get back at her for breaking you. 
“Sweetie, okay.” You gasp when she bottoms out your cock, groaning aloud that she’s smiling into the length. She keeps working with her hands and mouth, takes a moment to breathe, fingers sliding nice and easy along the slick skin. Staring at you. “Gaeul, please-” 
She’s close to getting you there; begging, and you manage to get a hand to her cheek, hold her face while she sinks her lips back on your cock again. Fuck. You might be too far gone already. Her teeth press down on the skin of your dick and you let out a noise showing another sign of just how good she’s making you lose it. Some of your fingers card her hair, like you’re clawing for a grip on the side of a rock and you swear that your cockhead swells at the top of her throat - you’re left speechless. You’re pretty sure that you can see stars. 
Gaeul smacks your tip across her lips, smiles as she does so. “You love my mouth, don’t you? I bet you’re just dying to cum all over my fingers and make me apologize for not letting you have your fun. Sucks to be you.” 
“Fucking-” you spit. She swipes her tongue on her lower lip, kisses your shaft the second after. Her index and thumb tighten around your base. “Gaeul, I swear-” 
“What? Had enough already?” 
Forget what you assumed about Gaeul. This version of her at your feet blows the performance right out of the water. 
All that boldness; that wit and snark while playing it cool, she swept it all under the rug from you. Anything she does or says to you, she knows that you’ll twist yourself into giving in to what she wants. Bratty might be one way to conclude - the way she hides her pert smile when you can easily tell that it’s a teasing grin. She looks at your shaft so earnestly as she jerks it around her hand, testing the girth and thickness of it when she finally decides enough is enough and tells you to plug that sorry little hole up that is her throat. The choice to paint your mess over her face or drain it down her mouth is up to you; you’ll ruin her just to satisfy your selfish ego. 
“I could just let you, ya know,” she leans more into your palm while her tongue laves across the skin of your balls, breath hot and heavy in the same way her eyelashes bat at you so innocently. “Let you fuck my face and fill my mouth up with this cock. You’ve been good enough for me, I think I just might.” 
She leans back and unclips her bra, revealing her tits; nice and perky, her rosy pink nipples too - you’ll mark her up when you get the chance. Her hands go to her hair, tying it like some party trick that only takes a few seconds, leans down to your stomach and kisses it, licking downwards just enough to make you snap. 
Your hand’s fast to grab the ponytail on the back of Gaeul’s head. 
“Thought you said you’d let me take over,” you tell her. And then: “there we go, look at that. So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock,” you hiss, guiding her down along your shaft, dragging your hips down and up into the addicting clench of her throat. You pull yourself out and smack your tip across her face, smearing the spit and precum. She wants the mess: “Gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you.” 
When she sinks again, you lose focus for a moment. 
“Mmphgh,” she hums, gripping your wrist. “Mmmuugh.” 
“Not so tough now if you can’t talk.” You almost feel bad. It’s unfair how she can still look up at you and smile at the corner of her lips, keeping her gaze leveled as you sink her mouth on your shaft - you thrusting upwards to meet in the middle. She’s handling it like a champ, and it takes a bit for someone to take you whole. 
A drag up, down, then up. She’s halfway on your shaft, rises, goes deeper - you could see her upper lip clamp down at the base, cheeks puffing up to dispel the air. Her head shakes a bit, struggling; sucking her cheeks soon after - god. The blush is a lot more apparent now, her eyes filled with lust. You give her a little bit of breathing room while you crash her face back down on your shaft. 
“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling her velvety mouth, taking all of you. She inhales sharply when you slip out of her - only for her to take you back in as you pick up with the thrusts with every shove of her head back down. 
You are trying, so hard, to not fuck anything up - fucking her face - you’re pretty sure you feel a little lightheaded. Her gaze is hazy, gasping every few seconds or so through the gags before you up the intensity once more. How is she even prettier like this? She has no right. Not when the noises and current actions are this debauched. 
“Mmnph?” She hums, the vibration tremoring on the skin. The clamp of her lips at the base again doesn’t help, but when she slides her tongue along the underside- 
“Jesus, Gaeul-” 
Fuck. She inhales your cock to the hilt and swipes her tongue across the same spot where her lip can’t reach. Rough. 
“Mmph hmm.” 
“Relax your jaw, baby,” and she does so, holding you where the clench is the hottest. She squints her eyes as you move her head side to side, the gagging more punctuated through the wet sounds. Ah fuck-
She makes it so, so easy for you. You’ve got just enough to hold yourself back, tugging at her ponytail while she adjusts her mouth over your length - mindlessly bobbing that makes you forget for a second and get lost in the overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You’d do anything for her, she’d do anything for you: even if making her a slut was part of the process. 
If we’re being honest here, she wouldn’t have gone this far for you to fuck her mouth - like, a well-practiced and simple blowjob from her could’ve been enough for you to lose it - but if she prefers things this way, how her wide eyes keep looking at you with your hand in her hair, she’ll keep it up until you eventually dump your cum all over her tongue. 
You just have to, soon, and you will. Gaeul guides her other hand to yours, giving you free reign - sending her mouth to you. She does it with such grace, so beautifully, the arousal catches you by surprise. 
Her hands slide to your sides, gripping. Goddamnit, it’s clustered all over her face: the rosy cheeks, the swollen mouth, the sound of her mewling and gagging once you’re upping the pace of your thrusts, spit spread all over her face and chest that makes her skin shine, her hair around the tie becoming more and more messier. 
She will make you insane. 
“Mhm mhm,” she sputters out because it takes her a while for her to coherently say it, probably since her cheeks are so full of cock you pull yourself out to the point there are webs of spit plastered over your shaft and on her lips. 
You’re trying to hold it together. Gaeul, not so much - breathing staggered before she nudges her lips along your cockhead again, opens wide, and slides her way back down, the hypnotizing movement of drool with every deepthroat stroke she does on you. 
“Gaeul,” you call out, breathlessly. Her gags just keep on coming, and your hands find themselves in a familiar place yet again. 
She forces your hand down, comes back up for air. You’re left speechless, stunned. She’s kissing up your cock - desperately in adoration, practically begging without being verbal about it. 
“I want it,” she whispers - drops her jaw again, and guides your hand with her head back down on your length. The friction alone hangs your mind in suspense. 
“Fuck my mouth,” she commands; her voice soothing. You don’t think twice when you sink her head back down on your cock, the warmth and plushness of it unfathomable to register in your fucked-out brain. When she comes back up, gasping for air: “Please, sir. Just like that.” 
So you grip her hair again. “Shit.” You pull at the root of her knot, let her graze her teeth along the slick surface of your cock. “Christ- Gaeul,” Her eyes red, mascara smeared, cheeks hollowed out once more as her throat rucks up the head of your shaft, taking you- all of you. 
Easing yourself into fucking her face wasn’t the way to go; it would be like shying away, saving yourself the embarrassment. Your ears close in on the sounds: the choking, the new layer of spit coated across your throbbing shaft. She’s so good with her lips - in the most fucked up way possible, the sloppier she is, the more happy she’ll be when you release your cum in her mouth or on her face. 
Whichever one happens first, that is, you’ll find out soon enough. 
“Gaeul-” you’re saying her name, sighing it out in reverence. “Close, baby. I’m so close-” 
It’s when she curls her bottom lip, the technique of her tongue sweeping that sensitive spot at the underside - it makes your vision focus at a fine point, she doesn’t let up with the gulps and gags, the delicious clench that makes you swallow nothing. Fuck, you feel it. She knows. With every passing drive of your hips, there’s enough wiggle room for her to breathe again. 
She’ll kill you if you let her do this more often. 
“Uhm,” you’re calling out to her again, noticing something out of place. “I don’t remember you asking for that.” 
Gaeul turns around, stretches the shirt on her like some bathrobe. It’s funny: the hem at the waistline covers the middle of her thighs, but somehow you can’t help but admit she looks cute in your clothes - even when she’s wiping away the cum and saliva with the collar and there’s no point in complaining. 
“Sorry, I thought you’d be okay with me having a small memento of you,” she says, pulling the fabric behind, molding it to her figure. There’s a playful hum she’s singing, wandering around your place like it’s her gallery, eyeing the trinkets and things that make you well- you. 
“Would you be cool if-” she adds, turning around in some coquettish ingénue pose, showing a bit of her panties that’s being engulfed by her ass. “-I made you cum a third time?” 
You give her a chuckle since that’s in the ballpark of recurring jokes or cute memories, somewhere along the lines of flirting like an idiot and fucking like rabbits. It’s getting there, the insight at least. 
Sure, have her keep the shirt. It looks good on her. She brought a change of clothes for the night anyway; God knows as to why but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her around. 
“I’ll take that as a yes with how you’re staring at me still.” She muses a scrunch of her nose that simmers the cutesy, heart-fluttering, babyism sort of act that would make anyone, in particular, flash a look of confusion topped off with a subtle eye roll. 
She grabs your toothbrush and runs it through the faucet. You don’t say anything about that. 
The balls of her feet lift her heels, but she’s not slick with the small arch of her back and leans in towards the mirror. She’s careless, and that’s apparent with how the collarbone sticks out on the right side where the shirt pools. You give her a light laugh when you’re hugging her side, nestle your nose at her temple, patting her head. 
“Do -ou minth?” Gaeul sighs, smiling. “-m tryimph to cean mythelf ere.” The toothbrush hangs at the side of her mouth, minding her own business as you’re pulling a few wisps of her hair past her ear. “Should’ve closed the door on you when I had the chance. Didn’t expect you to be so clingy. You expect me to believe that you can be soft and bubbly when you just shoved your cock down my throat?” 
“Too much?” you ask. “I can dumb it down if you want.” 
She gives you a genuine shake of her head. No. “I don’t mind at all.” She spits out the paste into the sink for a new one, since she’s drooling it out. “It’s cute that you’re like this when it should be the opposite.” 
“Mmm. Bite me if you have a problem with it.” 
Gaeul then sighs when you bury your nose in her hair, rub the side of her waist, because it feels right. Her eyes follow you when you leave her be at the sink, let her spit out some more before brushing. 
A girl like Gaeul makes it difficult for you to come to grips with her small, yet lithe frame - how your hands rest neatly on the swell of her ass, fingertips cupping the indent. She’s not making this any better, palming your cock through your pants, or that cheeky smirk once her hand slithers past the elastic and wraps around you like it’s a lifeline. 
You also realize: how light she is, feeling her tits and having a moment of small joy when you manage to get a mouthful of her breast, mouth parting while you’re sucking on her mounds and nipples shamelessly to the point where she has to tug you by the hair to make you stop, grasp at that last bit of control. 
Marking up her chest serves as a viable response to her. 
“Careful now,” she tells you, mewling, head tipped forward - the stimulation quite a lot for her to handle. “A little aggressive, are we? Ah-” 
Like you’re the kind of person to take it easy, anyway. She says your name so prettily; the sensuality over a simple utterance, the breathlessness lying beneath the tone. You’ll fuck and treat her like she’s the only girl in the world and prove it in more ways than one. You’re on the eve of something big here: finding where her limbs and muscles tense, mark up her perfect skin and knock her up like she wants the filthy mess. There’s an unspoken safe word - a prompt or phrase of some kind. If or when she says: “I’m yours,” she tells you, eyes fluttering when you slip your two fingers in, guiding them to the tempo that she wants you to go. 
So she grinds on your fingers and cock whilst making out with you on your bed, eventually fucking her soon after, sheets and pillows tossed and used in the process; you slip some rubber on your cock and cum first before she does, and she’s a bit angry, pouty, coiling her arms and legs around your neck and shoulders until you give her what she wants - the time reads a little past midnight, she’s sprawled on the bed like some happy, sleepy puppy and sighs: “I’m starting to think you can’t handle me. My pussy’s just too good for you to have another round,” laughing as her knee rises and slides her heels along the mattress. 
“Maybe two or three will shut you up, I don’t know.” 
“We’ll see about that,” Gaeul says flatly in lieu of your subtle shrug, “I’m gonna break your cock, just watch me,” and well, you find and realize, she was serious about that; she fucks herself on your hips, determined - and hops off your waist, your front flush with her back, bringing a pillow for her to cling onto. “Something tells me that you’ve been- deprived, I would say. This bed is a little too spacious for us.” 
You laugh with a yawn mixed in. “Yeah, sure.” Gaeul takes the tie you pulled out from her hair and tosses it to the nightstand. “If you want to put it that way, I won’t complain.” 
She scoffs. “Wow. I point out one thing and you’re not even gonna argue against it,” you can picture the quirk of her mouth, a hint of her teeth peeking through into a grin. “For a guy like you to have some experience, that’s not what I expected-” 
“Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” you ask her, leaning more into the cushion while Gaeul tangles a leg between yours. The world around you seems to fade out from your ears, solely making you focus on the present moment, looking at her with a wistful gaze, one filled with contentment and wonder. 
Deprived no more, you’re mentally telling yourself. 
It’s not long after before Gaeul pats your cheek, kisses your jaw before you hear her feet scuff across the floor to your bathroom with nothing on, watching as she checks herself in the mirror, leans into the doorframe, arm raised and stretched up high, locks of her hair spilling from her collarbones and down to her chest, that head tilt to top the silhouette off nicely you’re left in a trance. 
You figure out that this moment, right now, all of the stars aligned at the right time and firmly believe that it’ll stay. 
Sometime later, you tell Gaeul that you were holding out for someone like her; someone that took an effort to get because they were simply out of your league - she laughs, half-impressed. 
“Y’know, for you to be figuratively at the altar but still searching,” she murmurs, tapping your chin. “people like you and I can only get so far in life.” 
“People like me and you,” you repeat, the movement between you two isn’t much, but still cautious.
Gaeul drops her eyelids and smiles, a dimple appearing. 
“People. Interesting, enticing,” she breathes. “Enigmatic and those with charisma.” A chuckle hums low in her chest when she looks up with those wistful, doe eyes, “that’s where your type falls, doesn’t it?” 
On the nail, she is - damn she’s good. 
“And where would I be, had I not talked to you that day,” you ask, grinning like an idiot. The space alone is still difficult to interpret, placing your lips on hers and scratch her head while the waves of her coffee-brown locks sift between your fingers. You could feel yourself sinking - sucked into a black hole with no way out, swallowing you up whole. 
“I wonder too,” she echoes your thought. 
You kiss her forehead, give attention to that cute little beauty mark on her cheek. Watch as her gaze softens: a look of love, almost. 
“I’m bad news for you, sadly,” she adds. “Keep me in your life, you’re bound to regret it.” 
She wants you so bad, you can’t help but fuck her for the next couple of days. 
Your schedule slowly shifts to Gaeul’s. When the night falls - because there are multiple instances at two in the morning talking about complete nonsense over mac and cheese bowls and slow kissing in the shower with the water falling on both of you that makes her skin a hot blush pink, pressing her into the tile or sink after with your hand or towel in her mouth to keep her quiet - since you learn she likes it that way, letting you feel up the slick curves of her ass and watch the skin ripple to where you see some of the recoil of her tits in the mirror, or even on your office chair facing away from the desktop, Gaeul biting your ear with her knees up to her pits- 
“You like fucking my pussy open with my legs up like this? Hmm?” Gaeul hisses in your ear, voice rasped and torn, sliding her legs back down, tugging hair while you’re filling every inch of her cunt. “Just letting you use me wherever, whenever, however you want-” 
Alright. It’s hard to imagine what you were getting yourself into when Yujin threw a bone to pick at you playing matchmaker - leaving the door open for Gaeul, the girl who waltzed into your life unknowingly, only for her to be the kind of girl that crumbles from your cock being inside her, pumping so full where she’s pulling you into that leaking white slit for another round - but there’s times in the late morning, treating herself another cup of tea, body riddled with hickeys drawn up and discovered by you like a stargazer, her small waist a gift from the heavens above, in your sweatpants where the ends pool over to her toes, leaning down to take your attention away from the screen, grabbing a handful of her tit in place of a hello. 
“What’s that you got there?” Gaeul giggles, hand stacked on yours while you squeeze gently. “That doesn’t look related to the project.” 
She’s half-right. It’s somewhat relevant to the submissions Yujin’s been sending over for you to look at, and the data’s been stagnant; luckily, you’re glad that someone else’s been keeping you accountable for the time being. 
“Well, that's because it isn’t.” you laugh, swiveling your chair a bit so that she can sit on your lap. “This is what the galaxy looked like on your birthday. Gotta say, that does look pretty.” 
Gaeul coos, leaning her head on top of yours. She moves your hand up to her chest, slips her arm out of the sleeve, rucks the shirt on her shoulder. The mix of pale skin and pink bruises, you’re salivating with every lick of your lips - and she leans closer to the screen.
Her eyes widen at the flashes of blue and purple, stares like the picture itself is an art piece, captivated. “Wow, you know what I think?” 
“What is it?” 
“If you’re gonna help discover a galaxy or image like that,” Gaeul tells you, moving her arm around your neck, lightly scratching your hair, “I’d pull your weight with Yujin on this project if I were you.” 
“Really?” you ask her, leaning back so that she can rest her other leg across yours. “I’ve been doing that, but it’s been slow.” 
“Maybe you just have to draw up the connection a little better, then.” 
Your groove gets thrown off. Gaeul disrupts the flow which you have no complaint about. You leave your place far later than you intended, and tell Yujin to let you off the hook. The pictures, readings, sketches - the information is a lot to take already. You’re seeing stars. If she’s the sun then you’d be Icarus: flying closer and closer until you get engulfed completely. 
This isn’t simple for you; a little hard to properly explain. The girl just takes and takes and takes. 
You show Gaeul the night sky, have her look through your telescope and tell which stars and planets are seen, painting the image and guiding her to fill that imagination - only for her to say something to make you laugh; next thing you know, she’s got her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, shutting you up with no care right there on the balcony. She keeps batting those lashes at you, fucking her face - hollowed cheekbones too, god. She’s swallowing you whole, hands at your sides, gargling. Putting her hair up in that ponytail. Yeah, you won’t last long. 
The lapping, licking, spitting. She’s savoring the inescapable deepthroat. 
When she licks the upper seam of your balls, you’re pretty sure you saw a new set of stars right then and there. 
“We might need to look at those pictures you have,” you’re telling Yujin on the phone. “I think those from the last look-up. No- I mean, yeah. I was also reading on Rei’s side of the project as well, and what she has is way more substantial than what we were initially working with.” 
“As much as I hate to admit it, her recent stuff has been looking pretty good compared to ours. I’m just glad we found her to work with us in the first place.” Yujin says, laughing. 
“All I’m saying from last time is that if you were this committed to finding someone that can put up with your antics; maybe rough you up and get you all needy and not be as controlling to just live a little, you know? I know that we’re close to finishing this, but I can extend an olive branch for you to reach if you need a guy up your alley.” 
“I’ll hold you to that offer,” replies Yujin, “Hopefully you got a guy in mind that can handle me like how Gaeul is with you.” 
Right, you tell her. Gaeul’s leaned on the frame leading to the kitchen; not tired, sighing when you look over your shoulder to see her hand in her sweats, finger deep up her cunt. The tilt of your head says to keep it down. She bites her lip, continuing what she’s doing. You’ll see why, and be glad that you didn’t jump at the opportunity yet. You look away for a second to notice her sitting right next to you, brushing up your right side, forcing you to switch the phone to the other hand. Watch it. You’re certain that she could hop on your cock right now, and ride you without a care in the world, because why the fuck not? She’s not wearing panties underneath as it is; asking, whining, begging to be bred. 
Shit. 
You really could. 
If you wanted to. 
Like fucking her on the balcony for the world to see would just be another law in your twisted philosophy, breaking a slut like her, leaving the mess of cum all over her body, have her lick it off so sweetly. In a sky full of stars, you’d want to paint that picture somewhere up there too. 
You’re certain that there’s a solace here - one that’s permanently eclipsed with euphoria, certain that it will stay. 
Gaeul’s breathing funnels into your ear as you bite down a smile, grab a handful of her ass and claw greedily at the indent. You could feel her head nod against yours. She’s so fucking needy. 
“I’ll send over the revisions I made,” she pulls back on your lap to see you say. Yujin beams on the other end of the line. “Touch base with Rei also to see if it matches up.” 
Gaeul moves your arm away, pushes your head back with a lip lock. Her hips drop to your growing bulge below. You end the call right away to ensure Yujin doesn’t get caught up in the middle of it, watch as she rips your shirt off from her body. 
You hate to admit that you’ve got this dark-twisted fantasy, unwilling to frame that mindset because there was no reason to. She’s so mild-mannered and soft-spoken; wears pretty outfits and dresses waiting for you in the lobby of your building. She’s one messy bun with a hairclip on top away from urging you to snatch her away, Christ almighty. You’ll take away the layers and make mental notes, conceal her away like she’s some comet - write her name into the books that way the whole world knows about her perfection. A girl like her can change what a man thinks, make them say things like I know what you want, don’t give me that look - just for her to stare with that lovestruck look in your eyes. 
If she wasn’t the kind of girl that fell from the sky and onto your lap, syrupy laugh and giggle with those dreamy eyes, you would have a hard time looking through a scope; she’s rattling your brain to the point where you could say one or two things, have her listen dutifully because you know she will. 
Every exploration is a journey into the unknown, and suddenly she could pop a question at any random point in time, like: hey, you don’t need science to make a woman feel good, okay? You can totally fuck me like you mean it.  
But here she’s babbling, heaving. Completely stuffed up on her back with her knees to her chest, brain nothing but mish mash and riding out the pleasure. “Aren’t you a sweet thing,” you groan, “creaming all over my cock-” 
She’s biting down a piece of her shirt, lifted just above her tits, eyes squinched. Her head tilts back, chest up in the air. You’re pressing on the underside of her thighs, pushing her deep into the mattress. The words coming out of her mouth are incoherent, but you’re fucking it out of her: god, oh god, yes, shit, baby, fuck, fuck me- 
“Christ,” you hiss, and move your hands from her thighs to her back, bending the arch more. You’ve done yourself a favor by not railing her on the dining table like last time, gripping her ass, the addicting clench and glide of her folds, begging you to pound and pound and pound until she’s lost the feeling in her legs. 
Everything leading up to this was relatively tame; nothing too serious other than fifteen or twenty minutes of the usual fill-ins of what was done throughout the day, only for Gaeul to flash a look at you and with a grab of her wrist, the rest of the clothes peel away not long after. 
Probably in this universe, there’s nothing left to decipher in the sounds and expressions displayed on Gaeul’s face, small streams of tears falling on her cheeks with every part from the face down riddled in a rosy blush and sweat. You slide your palms up to her chest, rest your thumbs on the underside of her breasts, steadying, plugging your cock up in her tiny cunt and dragging every inch of skin across her walls, clamping hard and soaking no matter how fast and hard you’re giving it to her. Her body’s used to your length, thoroughly fucked that she can’t do anything but feel ruined. 
You see her mouth form an oh shape, some of her hair gets caught on her cheek, glancing you from the corner of her eye before rolling it back to her head- 
“Shhh,” you say, brushing your nose to the side. “Almost there, baby. I’ve got you-” 
Gaeul’s brows furrow together; grinding her teeth, forcing the dragged-out groan down her throat, tears peeking through the seal of her eyelids. She knows that she can’t do anything - besides just taking it like a nice little girl, let this cock pound and wreck her and look gorgeous as you bottom her out. 
“C’mon baby,” you’re huffing, getting one good thrust in while the flesh ripples at your hips, and Gaeul grits out a holy shit but dies down instantaneously, soft, the wail wheezed out in a whisper. Her whole body shakes with another peak, her face flushed with red, saying nothing seconds later. The wetness leaks out of her, coating your cock while holding you true. There’s no objection, only order when you drive your dick back in her cunt. Small threads of her slick forming on your waist, drawing their own set of constellations on her body. 
Her body rebounds upwards on the inhale. 
“Cum,” she tells you, pleading. You could feel her fingers coil your forearm. 
“Condom,” you stutter and fuck. She’s so unhinged - even if it’s just a singular word or simple request. Wringing her out this way was always going to be the result. “Fuck, can’t-” 
Her breath hitches, a cute noise you think. Some of her hair falls on her forehead, eyes lidded. The corner of her mouth ticks up. 
“What?” 
“If you seriously think that I’m gonna cum inside-” 
Gaeul chuckles, twisted into a moan. You can see the gears in her head turning, trying not to get caught up with your cock embedded in her hot cunt still. 
“Not- that.” 
“Not?” 
Her head falls to the mattress. 
“All over me.” Her shoulders slack, hands sliding further up your arm. You let her legs bracket your hips as you grasp at her tit. She doubles down on the command to be sure you heard it the first time. “I wanna feel it.” 
You don’t say anything more when she props herself up on her elbows, watching the sight of your cock slide slowly in and out of her cunt. Slipping the condom off in one swift pull and lick your palm. Gaeul bites on her thumb, smiling at you barely keeping it together. 
“Here is fine.” The way she suggests is dripping in want. Her heaving chest, kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair and sweat and everything in between. “Or maybe,” you see her glossy eyes once more, filled with lust. “Paint my face and get your nice, thick cum all over my fucking lips-” 
You inhale sharply. 
“Watch it,” you hiss. 
“Maybe I won’t,” Gaeul replies, lip between her teeth, challenging. Her hand reaches to your length to keep you second-guessing. The sight of her body; a literal depiction of sin, right in the palms of your hands. 
She grinds your cockhead along her folds, closing her legs slightly. The pressure already sucking you back in. “Sweetie, where- I could just let you lick it off again, grab a towel from the bathroom, that-” 
“You know what I want.” 
You look at her, unsure. But you know what’s about to happen anyway. 
As if she couldn’t give it to you in a different language, she grabs your wrist gently. It’s an easy problem with an easy solution. You can’t argue how pleasant she really is. She doesn’t have to prove more into it, how she’ll be, you could give into that sense of luxury, and you really could. 
So you’re pondering, skeptical. “I told you. You’re insane if you genuinely want me to cum in you. We’re not doing this. No.” 
Gaeul pouts, combined with an eyebrow lift. 
“And I wasn’t kidding when I said that.” She mentioned it the first time, too: “I’d let you cum anywhere you want.” 
A few more passing blinks go by. 
“Why go through all that just to waste your hard work on-” And you’re left surprised that she’s got the strength left to pull herself back up, resting her hips right on top of yours, fingers carding through your hair when she slips you back inside. Inch by inch, you feel her sinking down - slowly. You know that she isn’t stopping in particular, wiggling her ass; a soft implication, teasing. She’s pulling you closer and closer to where you’re seeing eye to eye with her. “Safeguarding a pretty girl like me.” 
In all honesty: it’s in your nature. Gaeul’s simply just being herself. Tender. Beautiful. Fully embracing. You could give her the power to destroy you, and she’d thank you for it. 
She gives you a very hard time thinking, grinding her hips against yours - let yourself get drunk in the raptures since the rubber was starting to become a pain in the ass recently. Gaeul’s cunt siphons out all your thoughts with every single inch of her gripping cunt, speaking listless phrases of praise and wishes that you’re positive to make come true for her. She could ride and pound her pretty pussy all over your cock - orgasm after orgasm after orgasm - until her face is blown out and just flat-out gone. Ease her mind with your dick, since she seems to love it so much. 
To be spoiled, showered and railed in whatever way possible. She just keeps hopping along your cock, bottoming herself out to the point where she’s looking to the ceiling in pure stimulation. 
You ruck your hips forward. Gaeul trembles, sighing in relief, allowing you the reins, lifting her body up and back down on your thighs. Her neck tips down, mouth canted. 
She’s warm and tight - just perfect; so sensitive and responsive after bouncing her cunt on your cock over and over and over- 
You steady yourself, savoring the feeling. 
She wants you to fill her up, to the point where she has to tell you that it’s enough. 
You suck in a breath, slip out a groan, shuddering. “Oh my god-” 
“Good, right?” Gaeul smiles, “Shit-” and you feel her head collapse onto yours, relaxing and riding out the length until her hips mesh with yours. She practically melts on your cock, stretching and tightening all at once, inviting. 
A kiss to her chest is what you give her, trying to keep your mind off her pussy carelessly clinging every inch of your girth; making it simpler for you to nudge your cockhead into the spot that makes her clench and shake; mewling and humming mixed with the moans; soaking your hips till it stains the sheets. 
“Such a slut,” you tell her, maintaining the last bits of coherence you have left, “so careless and needy. I should stop before you do some real damage.” 
Gaeul smirks, looks so admonished you can’t help but stare. “I don’t like that tone of yours.” 
“What tone?” 
She curls a smile before cradling your head. 
“Talking me down, doesn’t sit right with me.” 
“You told me that you didn’t mind.” You lift her hips from the crease, lean forward to swirl your tongue around her nipple. Looking up to see her watch, give a shameless lick on her bud to lay the challenge, pull back with a pop of the lips. “I know you were being polite about it. Call me a good listener.” 
“I might’ve said something different.” 
“Like you beg to differ.” 
“Hush.” 
“Pussy so good for you that you’re at a loss of words? Set your mind right after getting lazy over work?” The arch in her back deepens, gyrating her hips at the hilt to further the connection - your thumbs dig in the crease of her legs. You drag her forward. She moans again. “Shame on you, I should say no the next time-” 
“But you won’t.” 
“No. No. I won’t.” Gaeul huffs into your cheek, sighs once more when you’re kissing her throat. 
You’re fucking her brains into a puddle and somehow you’re still wondering how she can still think straight - ignoring the fact that her body’s split open and folding through on slap of your hips onto the next- 
“I won’t. Not ever.” She mumbles, whimpering. “I- can’t get enough of this dick. I can never get enough of your dick.” 
“Really?” You’re asking acerbically.
She shakes her head, and you give her a nice hot kiss, priming her head at an angle where you both prefer it to be: and she slips her tongue between your lips, groaning and melting on top of your body, pressing her knees to the sides of your thighs and her cunt in this sliding friction across your cock. She’s terrible at keeping secrets, a truth even - trying to convince you otherwise that she doesn’t like when you’re working her so well her face flushes, aching while leaking her endless slick onto your skin. Your mouth, hands, and cock all give her these waves of bliss, hitting the points all at once where her body blooms and she doesn’t know what to do next. 
You slam her ass back on your balls that her hips spazz out, grinding another climax out of her while she screams; a live wire is what she is, purring and gasping once you’ve triggered that reaction. 
“Like that,” she tells you, at this point, her arrogance is fucked out. Then, her lip is between her teeth, puffing out, bites her teeth together: “that’s so fucking good.” 
“Yeah?” and you feel her fingers slither back into your hair, assisting in the lift of her lower half back down - she’s spiraling. “So good for me, love, baby. Oh, baby-” 
She rattles her head when you’re sliding your hips further forward, the press of Gaeul’s knees moving up to the sides of your stomach. “Nuh uh,” she hisses; the angle is too good for her, impaling her from below she can’t breathe at the top, cunt nicely forming around your cock so deep-” 
“Not the love bullshit, no.” Gaeul chuckles, giddy, mouth canvasing your shoulder. Sighing, whispering, swallowing her hums.
You raise and yank her back down. The whine is one part of the whole symphony. 
“Like- love. What the fuck - so soft. God-” 
“Look who’s talking,” you growl. A curse spills from your lips. She’s a fucking waterfall that it’s unbelievable. The tightness alone for the first time would make anybody an instant addict. And you’re bent on the fact that cumming inside Gaeul is your inevitable demise - her walls clamping in increments around your shaft that every slap of skin and swallow of your throat brings you closer. “I’m giving you what you want, no? All you have to do is just take it - like a nice, little, whore-” 
She wheezes, giggling where it gets caught between a coo and a hum of approval.
“-my little cocksleeve, good god-” you hear yourself say, and the bump of Gaeul’s head into yours can hide so much of her flushed cheeks. “So beautiful, ruined for me, my little nymph come to life. You love this cock so much, wanting to be full of cum, lapping it up like a cute puppy-” 
You’re not sure what you’re saying at this point, but Gaeul keeps on laughing, rolling her hips forward and backward. She lifts herself halfway, falls right back in. Exhales. You know what’s coming; what’s about to happen. Her legs lock up, jaw slacked - hung in suspense. She’s breathing where you could see on her shoulders, leans forward with a turn in her ear: 
“My little sex kitten, how bout that?” 
Skeptical, Gaeul sighs; sucking in her stomach while her head turns the other direction, showing some of that fading self-control and common sense. 
“Okay, that’s. Oh-” she tries telling you, shying away. Her hand goes to yours, continuing the motion, sloppily, letting out a lazy grin and bouncing your name off your lips as her body leans back and into your control. “Rushed, I think. Maybe. Not sure- need more- to get used-” 
“Gaeul.” There's no hiding it anymore, you’re too dumbfucked out of your own mind to turn back now. She seethes out another cry, making you tilt your lips to a devilish smile. “Poor thing, so dirty. A naughty little squirrel that can’t get enough of my nut, huh? Look at you, so wet and filthy, making a mess all over the place-” 
Yeah, she broke you. You’ve gotten so twisted because of her - no point in mincing words here. 
“Fuck, okay, please, that’s too much-” 
You can’t stop - you just can’t. Her cunt is so close to squeezing you, numbing your mind until she drains you completely. 
The pace is painstakingly slow, the rise and fall of her hips with every pump inside her, nails clawing your skin away at the bridge of your shoulders. It becomes- too much, the way your cock stuffs her tiny pussy until that edge is finally reached, the heat cranked up way past eleven, the desire to take it written all over her face and body.
“Want it,” she chokes out. Her cunt creates this pocket of air inside where the noise is just utterly wrong. “Please.” 
Her eyes water, fluttering.
“I hear you, darling. I know.” 
“Ah, yes. You-” 
Her head lolls forward, lazily. You wrap your arms around her waist and guide her back onto the sheets, slip yourself out and roll her over until her ass is in view. She peers over her shoulder, watching you mount her thighs, pull her hips up and slide a pillow into the open space created, laying back down and bury your cock back in her creaming cunt, kneading the handful of ass in your palm before testing the depth again. 
You notice her shoulders bunch up to her neck, hands gripping the sheets when you’re leaning back down to her face.
“Fight me,” you whisper down her ear, “if it’s too much.” Gaeul shakes her head at the drag of your shaft, driving back in with a firm thrust that makes her gasp for air - bites down a moan into the blankets beneath her. You’re pinning her into the bed frame so harshly you don’t even care if you break it. 
Her hand shoots back to your arm, grabbing. The slaps of skin pick up in rhythm, maintaining a tempo. You reach out for her hair and lift her head, releasing a few moans before her breaths also start to become more staccatoed- 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t- hhn-” 
You’re having too much fun for your sake. Though, you can’t blame yourself in this situation. This was what Gaeul wanted, and she got it. A second later you’re pressing her head back down into the bedding, bend that arch in her lower back a bit deeper where your cock can carve its way down to the hottest point where she can take it. Her mewling and crying rise in volume and you only have the slap of your hips to hers serving as this undertone to her song. 
“Where,” you sputter, because you know the limit’s about to be reached. “Where do you want me-” 
Gaeul turns her head back; you can’t even see her lips move when she says it: “Inside.” 
So you coil your arms around her waist and flush your chest to her back. “If that’s what my kitty wants.” 
You raise the pace then and there. Fucking her tight little cunt as if you finally created the theory in your head into breaking Gaeul. It doesn’t take much for someone smart to put the pieces together: all you need is a nice hold of her ass, impaling your cock deep where you can take it, sliding in and out of her walls with such precision that you’ll empty every fiber in your body to satisfy both her and yourself. 
You’re experimenting with the position of her body - deep into the mattress, lift her upper half where both deepens the arch of her pussy, nudging your cock where her walls can clinch and clench along the member - working so seamlessly to bring that orgasm to the front. There’s only one thing left to do now: to pound and bounce her ass and cunt all over your cock until you spill all of it inside her open pink hole. You’re gonna drain everything in your balls deep into Gaeul’s cunt until she’s whining from the mixture of tension and shaking, growling so loud that you’ll wake the neighbors on the upper and lower floors. 
The pulsing, shooting rope after rope and after rope of cum inside her. She’s moaning in relief at the feeling while you’re still pooling, head spinning so fast that you’re finally on the same page as her: ruined, and thoroughly fucked. 
“T’so warm,” she mumbles sleepily. “And thick-“ 
The slamming of your hips keeps you conscious. “Gaeul, this cunt, baby, so fucking incredible.” 
An angel falling from the heavens. Would anyone ever believe it if you told the things you did with her? 
When you do slide out of her well-fucked-and-worked-cunt, you can’t help yourself still and slip inside again, coating your cock mixed in with her slick and your cum. You watch when you pull your tip away from her folds, the sheen of white coming out of her slit - the whole image of her backside is a picture-perfect painting right here in your sheets: her puffy pussy lips, the beet red spread across the breadth of her ass, bruises on bruises across the plane of her back, hair in this half and half of a bun and wavy locks. You then run your hand across your length, wipe the mess on the person who created it, and look at her while she rolls on her back with her arms raised. 
You’ll also think about treating her; cleaning her up in the shower; dry her hair, swaddle her in a towel, carry her around your place, clean every spot and cranny - worshiping her curves and mounds until she’s willing to be broken apart and put back together again. A girl made to be ruined, an endless experiment you want to keep forever. 
“See?” She laughs, running a finger along her folds, collecting her reward, licking it off her fingertips before cupping her palm gently along your cock, slowly rubbing you to get a few more drops out of you. Her tongue runs across her lips, almost like she’s gonna drool again and it’s just fucking terrible, but you love it. “Can’t you think the wonders of you breeding my poor, sorry, cunt-” 
Part of you wants to shut her up with your dick. She’s so forward with the intent and doesn't care about the consequences. It’s dangerous. You’re thinking ahead of how she’ll look with the ribbons of cum spread all over her body, on her face, in her hair. Sick and twisted it is, and she cups your sack - gasping at the sudden weight of it still. 
Soon. You need a breather and push yourself away. 
She flails her arms and legs around like some kid throwing a tantrum, groaning. 
But she smiles and shies away; not nervous, but happy. “Fuck me,” she swears where she feels relaxed and unbound by any worry. You bring yourself down to her and try to kiss her cheek, but she turns her head away with her hand pushing your face. 
“Nope,” she tells you, softly laughing, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Should’ve fucked me harder.” 
This girl is a problem. 
You pinch her cheek and start poking her stomach, the bubbliness coming to life. She can’t stay in one place the more you tap your fingers all over her body. She’s very ticklish. 
“Poor kitty,” you remark, because you notice her smile and tucked lip, watch the butterflies flutter in her stomach, and when you’re patting her thigh she doesn’t bother retaliating, since the idea’s set in her mind that there’s no further objection. 
“Didn’t you say,” she sighs, voice beaming, face pink and clutching her waist. “You like it when I’m like this, making you stupid that way you’ll just pound me at the end of it? Y’know, pinning me into the mattress. Gotta say, the-” 
“Gaeul, please.” She knows that you’re amused, smiling. “Get up. Go shower, you’re dirty.” 
“No no,” she replies, shaking her head. You stare into her eyes while her legs spread, causing you to look down and scrunch your nose. Her head tips back, trails her fingers up her chest, traces around the nipple, some of her hair falls in front. “If you’re the one who made the mess, you should make the effort to clean me up again.” 
You make a note of the upsetting attitude - maybe forward it to Yujin since she knows a little more about Gaeul out of annoyance. 
Yujin didn’t give you the full report, anyway: about how Gaeul’s the kind of girl that functions over good food, drinks, and a proper dicking down without even considering the whirlwind of logistics she’ll mess up. You should’ve seen the signs. You should’ve known who you’re dealing with. 
“What’s wrong?” Gaeul asks, grinning, relaxing her back while you pull her by the thighs, bringing her closer. You thumb her knee, considering. The warning signs are there - just waiting for everything to come apart. 
She gives you an eye smile while you’re rolling yours, guiding your hand up her inner thigh, stopping right at her pussy lips. It’s draining. A headache. You’ll be sleepless in the morning because you can’t admit Gaeul’s the reason for staying up so late. “Only gonna say it once,” you tell her. “Shower comes first.” 
You say, but your body does otherwise, scooching forward where your finger hovers right above her clit. Though you gently press your palm right above her hip, noticing how sweaty she is - or maybe it’s the spread slick from her thighs; you can’t tell, the slide of it has you in disbelief. 
“I think you can give me one more,” Gaeul suggests, rolling on her stomach, forming the arch so tantalizing you force yourself to look away, knees spreading and her feet flush - imploring without really saying anything because you know she won’t stop and there’s nothing you can do about it. Her teeth peek through her cunning smirk, fully pleased. “Forget about putting another condom on, ‘cause like- god. I know you love how my pretty little pussy lips wrap around your cock when you’re cumming in me anyway.” 
It’s a genesis of sorts: the beginning of an unending madness. A world which you cannot escape - nor want to. 
Everything is a mess: you, your place, your work with Yujin. Gaeul comes by every other day - except when she’s swamped with schoolwork where she pops the idea of going on a romantic getaway or a staycation, hiding yourself away from the world and fucking her stupid until she’s sleepy. 
Here’s the thing. 
It’s when you’re with friends- or just you and her, wandering around the city, she’s the calmest, reserved girl you’ve ever seen. Much like she puts on a mask or appearance during the day and nobody seems to notice. Her clothes are much in line with yours, and pulling your face for a kiss - well, to milk the moment, you suppose - curling her fingers across your cheek, eyes so full of her that they’re crossing against each other at the press of her forehead with yours. 
There’s something here. You’re certain that it’s already been found. An exploration of these moments and experiences and the gut feeling rest well in your mind. You ponder, maybe it’s meant to be. This was all for fun at some point too. Maybe, also, that might not be the case. 
You deem it too early to say you love her, but the reciprocating kisses she gives you make you think otherwise, every single time, and you give into her little smile. 
If you or her mean it, one of you will say the words eventually. 
“So? What are we thinking? You reckon we’ll get it this time?” Yujin says, optimistic. You picture her with her feet propped up on something or in the air, it sounds like it. 
“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” You answer, “Oh- by the way, Gaeul wanted to come along for the final set of tests. Are you okay with that?” 
“Yeah, I don’t mind.” 
“Awesome.” 
Silence builds up on the line. 
“Aren’t you gonna tell me how she is?” Yujin prods, teasingly with a tone higher than usual. “C’monnnnn, I wanna know-” 
“Why would I? My business with Gaeul is not information to share.” 
“Boooooo.” 
“What?” 
“You and her haven’t given me credit for setting you guys up,” says Yujin. “Some of the details can be left out - for obvious reasons. She’s been telling me good things about you.” 
You smile at that. 
“Okay, to be honest, she’s amazing. I haven’t had an issue with her since our date and well- I don’t need to explain more for you to figure the rest out.” 
“Tell me more later when I see you two, but from what it sounds like, I think you struck your luck out with this one. She’s a real keeper.” 
Seeking out an Andromeda wasn’t on the cards, but you’re happy enough to have it fall right on your lap. 
It’s something special to cherish. 
Gaeul watches from a distance, admiring the image of you in your element. 
Yujin looks closely at the screen readings while you’re peering into the telescope, following along to the proper adjustment in getting the coordinates right. There’s a double check - then a triple check - glancing at the image presented. She smiles when you give her a nod of approval, looking back over at Gaeul who stares right back. 
Gaeul appears stoic, but you can tell that she was a little bit nervous for you. If things didn’t go well today, it wasn’t going to be the end of the world, but you know deep down that she wants you to succeed - and you do too. 
“We have something,” you’re telling her when you reach the bottom of the steps, rubbing her elbow for comfort. “Wanna come take a look?” 
She bites her lip, eyes tilting down, and nods. 
You kiss her knuckle and bring her up. 
Minutes later, she’s where you were: through the looking glass while Yujin slides her chair over pointing at the mix of greenish blue in the middle of the vast blackness of space. “Looks new, seems lightyears away from us. Have we finally got it?” 
“Judging from what the professor was telling us, nobody is claiming this one yet.” 
Yujin taps your shoulder before leaving to call up her mentor. 
Gaeul still looks into the scope, smiling when she feels your arms wrap around her waist, laughing softly. 
“It’s beautiful,” she tells you, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 
The night sky shines above the observatory, light funneling through the opening as a natural spotlight, illuminating the glow reflected on her perfect skin. You look at her as if you’d turn into stone when you look away. She looks at you like everything just makes sense - a safe place where she can find comfort in, realizing what she said was already made true, but she doesn’t know that. 
“You speak for yourself? Or?” 
She hits your arm, and you’re smiling like an idiot. 
“Do you have a name for it?” Gaeul asks, turning around so that she’s properly facing you. You’re still trying to figure out how she can look so pretty - so effortlessly; it’s something that you’ll dedicate a whole lot of time to study, see if you can find the answer in her eyes, or her body- 
“Not yet,” you answer. “It'll take some time to pick, but- I’m open to recommendations.” 
She nods, quickly flashing her eyes to see if there was anyone within earshot, pensive. “I got nothing so far, but I’m willing to jog your mind if you’re it.” 
“Gaeul,” you say, sternly, grip tightening on her lower back. “What’re you implying, hm?” 
“All I’m saying is that I can be a great help for you in that bathroom downstairs. Unless you want to step outside, get some fresh air - the breeze is so nice up here, and no one will hear me because of the crickets-” 
“Minx,” you’re saying again. She sighs with her mouth parted, working herself right off the bat. “Now’s not the time, you were good for me earlier. Plus, your ass is still sore, I know why you didn’t want to sit down in the first place.” 
Gaeul nicks her head up, lifts her eyebrows. You’re flashing the image in your head of earlier: her being soaked in your cum, mouth swollen and makeup ruined, naked with a pair of cat ears in her hair and wrists handcuffed to the edge of your bed. It’s been a few hours since then, but nothing’s stopping the urge from burning through your pants- 
“Said you did a good job spanking me, did I?” 
“You know my answer.” 
“Touché.” 
You shake your head and press your lips to her crown. Patting her head and rubbing her shoulder while she puts her thumb on her chin, carelessly minding her own business while you’re treating her; mind already tired and with the amount of pictures and papers and telescopes too complicated to listen to in a firm explanation, she’s unbothered. She pats your back twice to make you stop. 
“We’re still grabbing drinks with Yujin after, right?” Gaeul asks, remembering the offer. “Her treat?” 
“She’s a terrible liar,” you chuckle, “The tab’s on me.” 
It’s all a process. 
Day by day. The concept of love is not a linear path; getting to know someone and revealing the pieces, building that trust with a significant other, infatuated about the secrets and intricacies that you’ll take to your grave once they’re shared, seen, and spoken. 
You’re up late nights, peering into your bedroom to see her legs tangled around a pillow. On certain days she comes home excited, jumping onto you at the door to times when she’s tired, and you’re piggybacking her inside because that’s what she likes. When she’s with Yujin, she’s normally quiet and laid-back - but with you, she’s all over the place. Telling you these unholy things that you don’t expect her to know when you’re fucking her into the bed; the way her voice sounds when she’s praising you. She goes around like her own little planet, full of wonderful things. She likes vinyls and vintage stuff and prefers to run outside when it’s raining. You let her steal your glasses because she looks better in them. Her smile is infectious. The way that she tousles and turns when you’re kissing every corner of her body and telling her all the things that she wants to hear. You’ve got the backlog filled out.  
Spread her legs apart, have her sit up, ride your face. Break down those fragile walls until she’s completely sucked into your embrace. Gaeul desires a lot of things that you can try to give - the wonders of the world, a bigger picture - something that you’ll pull down from above and have her keep for the sentiment. 
You’ll keep the fact that she’s somebody who wants to be ruined - get chaotic and a tad sadistic. She prefers the punishment over the crime. 
Nights like these, it feels like some kind of mistake when Gaeul brings you over to her place. 
There’s nothing bad happening whatsoever, you just feel the knife twist a little more when you can’t go inside because last time Liz and her other roommate caught you and her red-handed on the couch, even after having the assurance that they wouldn’t be home until later. It wouldn’t feel wrong to hug her, kiss her goodbye, knowing that you’ll probably see her around on campus in the afternoon later. 
Gaeul gazes into your eyes earnestly, as if she didn’t want to go back in yet, hoping that you’ll take her away and carry her back to your apartment. A wish she made on a passing star and praying it comes true. With those white thigh highs she’s wearing, you’ll make that dream a reality in a heartbeat. 
“How long have we been friends for again?” She asks, tugging on your jacket, slipping your hands around her hips. She’ll take wherever she can, you know her well. “Hard to believe that we’d be together. You know, like this.” 
“Do I need to remind you who made the first move?” 
“Fuck you.” She slaps your chest as part of the response. “I was trying to have a moment with you. So shut up.” 
“Okay, I will, please continue.” You lift your shoulders in surrender. “For the record, I’d like to take most of the credit, since I asked and all that.” 
Gaeul rolls her eyes to the back of her head. That was her whole plan from the start - had you not said anything to her, she wouldn’t be here taunting you; while being so quiet and pretty that it’s hard to combine the two. 
“Depends on who asks,” she begins. Her cheeks rise, veneers highlighted. She throws everything out in your head with ease - one hint or subtle suggestion and the common thoughts get brushed aside. That’s a you problem. More so of a bigger problem compared to hers. She can read your expressions like a book. 
So you say: “Are you asking?” 
You keep looking at her, like you did back in the museum, wondering all of the pretty little things that differentiate her from the rest; her side profile, the bunny-heart-shaped-ears, how her lips purse together almost like a pout; it’s like you’re seeing some cosmic pareidolia. Kind of like putting fragments together from your dream. 
Gaeul tilts her head, pondering. “If you are, then I’d agree with what you’re saying,” she tells you, kissing your cheek and stepping inside her apartment.
427 notes · View notes
tthoroughfare · 2 days ago
Text
garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams
Tumblr media Tumblr media
*・゜゚・* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.
*・゜゚・* pairing: modern!ellie x reader
*・゜゚・* content: sfw
*・゜゚・* length: 1.6k
this is part two of this series! find part one here
okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha
Tumblr media
after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.
but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.
“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”
“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”
“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”
at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.
still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.
they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”
you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.
it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.
you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.
at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.
you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.
the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.
and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.
when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”
you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”
“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.
after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”
you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”
with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.
you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.
you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.
but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.
you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.
you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.
a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”
“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.
“what’re you watching?”
“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”
she chuckles. “spooky.”
“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.
“could’ve fooled me.”
“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.
it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.
“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.
“yeah, i’m fine.”
“you sure? ���cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”
“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”
“… okay.”
you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.
her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”
“yeah, she seems nice.”
she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.
“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”
you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”
“what’s stupid?”
your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”
she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”
a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”
laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”
“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.
she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”
“right. thanks.”
“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”
you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”
yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.
253 notes · View notes
rafeysdeer · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
valentine (aka sunshine reader and in love jason)
civil!reader x jason todd
prompt: valentine's day wasn't exactly jason's favorite holiday, he didn't really care about it, that's until his very excited girlfriend decided to surprise him.
a/n: okay, that's my second imagine, and i think it looks better, i was giggling and kicking while writing because these two are just soo cute, and the detail about the candle being syntactic is from a hc that jason just doesn't deal well with fire because of the explosion. english is not my first language, hope you guys like it 💗
Tumblr media
It had been at least two weeks since you started leaving little hints about the big day that was coming, Valentine's Day. A cute romcom about the holiday, some cute couple videos, anything to try to get your boyfriend in the mood for the day, but he simply didn't seem to care about it.
You figured it was because he never really had the chance to properly celebrate, or anyone to spend the day with, before you, his only focus was the whole vigilante thing, he never would have dreamed that on a saturday night he would be curled up on the couch, eating ice cream and watching 'How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days', but he was, and with a pretty girl resting her head comfortably on his shoulder.
"Jay? Do you have patrol next friday? I thought we could go out for dinner or something?" the girl asks, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him with her bright eyes and a little pout on her face.
"I think Steph can cover for me, it's just routine patrol, why? some special occasion?" he asks with a naughty smile on his face as he pulls her close to him again, leaving a kiss on her forehead.
"Nothing really special, I just miss you," she says and his laugh immediately fills the room, leaving that comfortable energy in the air. "Baby, you're literally wrapped around me, like, right now." He hears her snort and shove him playfully. "Doesn't stop me from missing you." The silly smile on his face took over as he stroked her hair. "You're just one of a kind, aren't you?"
Turns out that missing him was only half true, not that you didn't miss him, but coincidentally, next friday was also, Valentine's Day, and the closer the day got, the more anxious she looked like.
When friday finally came, she already had everything planned out to the last detail, she convinced him to finally go out with Tim (who had been trying to go out with him for weeks by now), and put her plan in action, she had all the classic stuff, flowers, chocolates, a beautiful dress, a set table on the roof, and the best part, a limited edition of Pride and Prejudice packaged methodically with a red bow, matching her dress.
You managed to convince Tim to join you on the plan, stalling Jason until 7 pm, when he came back to the apartment, just to find everything in complete darkness except for a trail of synthetic candles leading to the window.
"Honey? Are you ready yet?" No answer, the only option was to follow the candles to the window, where he found a table set on the roof, with a bouquet of red roses, synthetic candles lighting everything up, and his favorite girl with a smile from head to toe in a long red dress.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Jay," she says as she tries to strike a sensual pose, leaning on the table, but she's so excited she can't hold it in for long, running towards him and stealing a kiss. "So? Did you like it? I know you're not the biggest fan of Valentine's Day, but I just wanted you to be able to experience it and it's okay if you think it's too much, we can just go back inside and order pizza or something-" her nervous speech is interrupted by an anxious and completely passionate kiss.
"I loved it, sweetheart, I really did, how did you manage to do all this without me noticing?" she smiles playfully, shrugging her shoulders and pulling away from him slightly. "I may have had some bats helping me, and wait, there's more," she says excited, her smile as bright as the candles as she runs to the table, grabbing a package, her heels making a clicking sound along the way.
"I remember you told me you really wanted it and I just couldn't help it, I hope you like it" she hands him the book, wrapped with a big red bow that matched her dress, and the happiness on his face made all the effort she put on it worth it. "You're so fucking perfect, how did I end up with you, huh?" he asks, showering her with kisses, while the smile never leaves her face.
"I guess it was fate."
237 notes · View notes
d3lly1000 · 1 day ago
Text
I finally watched Sonic 3!!!!! (IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST EXPERIENCES OF MY LIFE)
Tumblr media
I had been holding back so I could talk without worrying about spoilers, but I think I can now comment on my general opinion of the movie.
There will be spoilers, so you have been warned!
I’ll admit that I found the first act a bit rushed. I understand that they had a lot of characters to “reintroduce” and new ones to add (especially Shadow), but I felt a bit lost with what was happening—it was really convenient how the script handled a lot of things just to get to the point.
For example: Shadow attacking in Japan with no real explanation, Rockwell quickly finding Sonic and the others. Even Commander Walters showed up just to explain what happened in the past, only to die unexpectedly right after. Even though he's not a particularly memorable character, I felt like his death didn’t carry the weight it should have, even for Team Sonic who witnessed it.
There was also the fact that a lot of what happened in the first act had already been revealed in the trailers and TV spots, which kind of deflated my excitement, knowing what was going to happen. But as I said, things were happening so fast that I couldn’t process all the information right away! XD
I have to say, I absolutely love the interactions between all the characters. The relationships and how they were developed felt so unique to me. I’ve always had the headcanon that Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic acted like siblings, and in the movies, I got to witness that in a meaningful and very loving way (shoutout to Tails saving Sonic and Knuckles protecting them, my boys <3).
One of my favorite scenes is definitely the argument between Knuckles and Sonic, as it really shows their maturity. It shows how much they are changing with each movie, which is so valuable to me because it demonstrates that the characters are really learning from their experiences. In a franchise, this deepens their moral journey and enriches who they are — it’s truly wonderful.
Speaking of siblings, I can’t not talk about Maria and Shadow. Right from the beginning, I could already feel the heartache hearing Live and Learn in an acoustic version. I think for fans who know how iconic this song is for the franchise, the idea that MARIA COULD HAVE BEEN THE ORIGINAL COMPOSER of it (at least in the SCU) hits so hard.
The narrative of Shadow talking about Maria always moved me, and the film managed to emphasize what she meant to Shadow in such a sweet way. Seeing the scene where Shadow recalls the day of the accident and then carrying the Eclipse Cannon gave me chills.
The parallels between Sonic/Shadow and Tom/Maria were something I was really looking forward to! The franchise often makes these types of comparisons between characters, not just in the games but also in the movies. As I mentioned before, I think this makes everything richer — it gives you a new perspective and helps you understand the complexity of characters by revisiting the "same memory" through a different person. I love when they do that!
ABOUT THE FIGHT SCENES, ALL OF THEM. I was breathless! I have to confess I was cursing A LOT during the third act. It was so epic, something you wouldn’t even think you'd see! Super Form battles were such a great concept for the situation, seeing Sonic get so angry really fed my fan dream of seeing him want to destroy everything XDD. Shadow literally crushed him, both physically and mentally. He REALLY IS THE STAR of this movie. The whole year was his. And he delivered in every possible media!
((I screamed so much when they did the pose, Live and Learn, it was so epic.))
Jim Carrey’s performance is always amazing. I’m still stunned at how naturally Gerald and Eggman felt together. It really seemed like a completely different actor, and that’s insane! I think the only thing I wish we’d seen more of was scenes between Gerald and Maria in the past, but who knows, maybe they’re planning something for a "Shadow solo spin-off."
The light shines, even when the star dies. – I was already emotionally losing it inside, there were just so many things to process.
AND THE POST-CREDITS SCENE HAUSFHSAIFHGVSNUHGUSAHGUSAH
OK OK I’M >TOTALLY< NORMAL ABOUT MY BABIES
Literally my two FAVORITES showed up. METAL WILL BE THE MAIN VILLAIN, I have so many theories and DEFINITELY it will be an adaptation of Heroes and CD. I CAN'T WAIT to see him in action, the whole Artificial vs. Natural thing is something that really resonates with me in the rivalry between him and Sonic.
AND HAUSHFUASFHUASFH AMY MY GIRL!!!
Tumblr media
She’s so cool, she appeared in SUCH A UNIQUE way, the cracked moon in the background, revealing herself by taking off the hood... I can’t wait to see her in 2027... I need it so much aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I definitely loved the movie a lot. I still want to rewatch it in English since I saw it dubbed in my language, but I think I’d give it an 8.5/10 or 9/10! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS MOVIE!! I’m still shaking remembering the action scene sahufzahghaghs
59 notes · View notes
daryl-dixon-daydreams · 8 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww <3 thanks, hun! Words: 2,451 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries, references to assault and possible attempted sexual violence (did not occur, no description or details) Summary: Negan has to figure out why you've collapsed and try to patch you up. Concern and banter ensues... A/N: I intended this to be the final part, but now I think maybe we need a little more closure with these two? Hmm... should I do one more part? Let me know in the reblogs or comments!
Previous part here!
“Shit, shit, shit,” Negan growled through his teeth. “Alright. Okay…” He scooped you into his arms the rest of the way and laid you down on the couch as gently as he could. Clearly, more had happened out there than you had admitted to him. He clasped your face one more time in an attempt to rouse you. “Hey, doll? Wake up,” he urged. But not even an eyelid twitched. You were out cold. Negan straightened up and rubbed a hand over his face. Obviously, there was a reason you were passed out, so he needed to figure out what it was and fix it. A flash of terror seemed to seize his heart in a tight, icy grip. Hopefully, he could fix it.
His eyes went to your head, propped on the throw pillow at one end of the couch. Head injury? He knelt beside you and cupped your head in his hands gently, turning it slightly this way and that, feeling for any bumps or injuries. He felt and saw nothing besides the injury to your ear which he’d already noticed, and that certainly wasn’t enough to warrant you passing out. His hands and his eyes traveled down to your neck. He unwrapped your scarf and slipped it off. There was the mark he’d seen right away, which was quickly darkening toward a bruise. A bruise and a scratch? Someone had had you by the neck? Just the idea of it made a hot flame of anger flare upwards in his chest.
His fingers went to the buttons of your coat and he loosed them. The wool fabric fell open and he didn’t have to search for an explanation any longer. “Oh, shit,” he cursed. Your white sweater was completely stained crimson on your left side. The material was soaked with blood and it was running toward your back and starting to seep into your coat. “Fuck me,” Negan swore, climbing hurriedly to his feet. He rushed over to the shelves and grabbed a couple clean towels before returning to your side. He let out a shaky breath.
Negan peeled your shirt up, completely unsure of what he would find underneath. At first, he was met only with the sight of a gauze bandage taped to your skin, also completely saturated with your blood. But when he peeled that up, there was a rather significant round hole in your side, about halfway between the flare of your hip and your ribs. A gunshot wound. It looked like you’d tried to stitch it yourself, but the stitches were clumsy and ineffective, probably due at least in part to the fact that you wouldn’t have been able to see it well. “Jesus, doll,” Negan murmured. He gently rolled you slightly toward the back of the couch and tucked one of the towels underneath you. The other he pressed to the wound while he tried to think about what to do. He didn’t have a ton of first aid supplies on hand. His hazel eyes landed on your pack and he dragged it closer, keeping pressure on the wound with the other hand as best he could.
The first thing he pulled out from inside your bag was another bloodstained shirt. He held it up and could see the actual bullet hole through the fabric. He tossed it down. He dug inside again and finally his hands closed around a plastic bag full of first aid supplies. He let out a breath of relief and started setting them out on the little table next to him.
He looked at you lying prone on the couch and realized the bleeding might slow if he rolled you onto your side. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly. He stood and slipped his hands underneath you again and gently tipped you toward the back of the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. It was just then, perhaps jostled awake, when you started to stir.
The first thing you really remembered was the sensation of cold air on your side and the residual cloud of pain which seemed to be pulsing through your entire torso. “Fuck,” you muttered, dragging your eyelids open.
“Doll?” Negan sounded relieved and you felt his hand press down hard on your side, adding pressure to some wad of something soft.
“Ow!” you hissed, trying to sit up and push him off you.
“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy! You’re bleeding a lot here. We’ve gotta get this stitched up again,” Negan said.
“I already stitched it,” you argued, not thinking entirely clearly at the moment.
“Yeah, and you did a piss poor job, which is why you’re currently lying in a pool of your own blood,” he retorted, not letting up on the pressure to the wound.
You craned your neck to look over at Negan and your side, your brows tense in a wince. Your sweater was soaked crimson and pushed up so Negan could hold a towel over the wound. Your skin was smeared and stained. You felt suddenly tired and laid back down, trying to catch your breath. “Fine… okay,” you sighed. “Do whatever you need to.”
Negan let out a noise that was part laugh and part scoff. “I was planning on it. Hey—is the bullet still in there?”
You nodded, closing your eyes against another wave of pain. “Yeah…”
“Uh, shouldn’t we try to get that out? You could get an infection.”
You laughed grimly. “I was going to leave it in because going on a fishing expedition inside my body with dirty hands while I was laying in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really see it. But please, by all means…”
Negan cleared his throat. “Alright. Hey—hold the towel on here a minute.” You placed your hand over his, sharply aware of even the glancing contact before he slipped away. You stared at the back of the worn couch, focusing on the little squares of woven stitches. You could hear him opening and closing cabinets in the next room.
“Take your time,” you said loudly. “Not like I’m slowly bleeding out over here...”
Negan came back in with a large glass bottle in his hand. Vodka.
You stared at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, myself,” you said dryly.
He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. You were still cracking jokes with a bullet in your side. “Of course you are, doll. I’d have guessed that. But this is all I’ve got.” You finally noticed the long silver instrument in his other hand and any jest you had left in you slipped away. You gulped at the sight of the cold metal of the long tweezers.
“You better hand me that bottle,” you said.
“It’s for disinfect—”
“I don’t give a shit. I need a drink if you’re going to dig that thing into me,” you breathed.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The sound of your own breathing came first, steady but louder than normal, and then there was the comforting sound of a crackling fire in the background. Your eyes were a bit bleary as you opened them but cleared as you blinked a few times. Your side felt as if it was on fire.
You shifted on the couch and Negan straightened up in his chair, the grim expression on his face melting away. “Thank fuck you’re awake,” he said, leaning forward to study your face. “How ya feelin’?”
“Uhh—I think a little drunk actually,” you said, sitting up and putting a hand to your head. The room wobbled a little.
“I’m not surprised. You may have overdone it on the liquid courage. I barely had enough to do the job,” Negan said.
You pressed a hand over your side and could feel that he’d secured a bandage and gauze over the wound. The bandage wrapped all the way around you. “I passed out again?”
Negan nodded and then grabbed a little saucer off the table and held it out so you could see what was on it. “Fucker was in there pretty deep,” he said. The bullet made a sharp noise as it rolled on the ceramic. It was stained with a rusty coating of dried blood.
You nodded. “Right. Well, you got it. Don’t throw that out. I want it,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ll make a necklace or something with it.” Negan didn’t look amused. “It stitched up okay?”
Negan nodded again, discarding the plate on the table again and giving you a long, serious look. “Yeah, it was easy since I could actually see it.” He sighed as you avoided his hazel eyes. “Your ear. That’s a bullet graze.” It wasn’t a question.
You fiddled with the edge of blanket he’d tucked over you, but said nothing. Negan sighed heavily again and you were surprised to see him anxiously running both his hands over his face. You thought they looked a little shaky even. “I’m fine,” you said.
“Somebody almost blew your head off on the way here, but you’re fine?” he said. His voice was deep and gruff, and you could hear anger in it. Not at you, but at what had happened. It surprised you how much feeling was in his voice. “Tell me.”
You gulped and shrugged. “I—ran into some men on the way here. First, they demanded my gear but—that—wasn’t enough,” you said. You avoided his eyes again. “I don’t think they even wanted the gear...” you trailed off. There was a tense silence for a long moment before you hazarded a glance up at Negan and there was a shadow on his face and a violent rage behind his eyes. “They underestimated me. I fought them off but—the last guy had a gun I didn’t know about... But—I took care of it. I’m fine,” you said again, repeating it in the same tone you had every single time you’d already said it. Were you trying to convince yourself or him?
Negan leaned forward, his gaze still intense. “You were attacked by a group of men on the way here, shot in the side, and almost shot in the head which you barely survived, and you’re ‘fine’,” he said. His expression softened as he looked at you, the anger replaced with some mixture of worry and sorrow and regret. “Doll—”
You let out a humorless laugh. “I have to be fine! So, I am!” you said, perhaps a little more loudly than you needed to. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in almost the exact same situation since the world went to shit? Be glad you were born a man.”
His eyes flickered over your face, the worry on your behalf still pronounced. “Coming to see me would be a pretty fuckin’ stupid reason to die,” he said.
“I didn’t die, did I? I’m fine.”
He looked hesitant. “None of them got away? Because if they did, I will go out there right now and put them down myself. Just say the word.”
You shook your head. “None of them are left. I took care of it.”
His eyes flickered between yours and the feeling between you was intense and charged. His jaw tightened and he straightened up again in his seat. “For fuck’s sake, why the hell didn’t you just tell me what happened when you got here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, you finally said, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
Negan gave you a look. “You were shot. You almost died. It is a big fuckin’ deal. Besides, how’d that work out for you, hmm? Not making a big deal out of it? You passed out right in front of me and were suddenly soaked in blood.”
“I thought I’d taken care of it myself. I didn’t think—”
Negan crossed his arms, surveying you from his place at the table. “No, you just never want to have to rely on anyone else. Because you think that makes you vulnerable.”
You looked at him with a struck look of surprise and he knew he’d hit the mark. “What, were you a shrink in your last life?”
“No. A gym teacher,” he said with a small laugh.
You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you just after his. “Wow. Really? Sexy,” you said sarcastically.
His lips curved in a small smile. He was relieved you were cracking jokes again. Some of the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. “I’m glad you think so. You’re stuck here now for a few days, so get comfortable, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, boss me around—”
Negan smiled more broadly. “I love when you try to argue with me. It’s good. I need a firm fucking hand. Speaking of jobs requiring a firm hand—”
“Negan—” you warned him, your tone dangerous.
“—I better go cut some more firewood before we run out,” he finished with a grin. You felt your cheeks flushing. “Jesus, where was your dirty little mind at?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You relax and drink some water. I’ll be back in a few.”
You stared at his tall frame as he pulled his coat on and opened the door to step outside. “You said it that way on purpose!” you yelled after him.
He glanced back at you over his shoulder from the doorway with that same shit-eating grin. “What? I don’t get what you’re driving at. Maybe you could explain it to me?”
You flicked him off and shot him a glare. Negan only laughed. “Listen, don’t get your hopes up. You’ve got some healing up to do before we can—”
“Negan—” you growled.
“—walk back to Alexandria together. For fuck’s sake, what did you think I was about to say?” You gave him an unamused look and he laughed again. The sound warmed you. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it from here. Just rest. You’ll be back kicking ass before you know it. And in the meantime, I am fuckin’ thrilled to have your company.”
37 notes · View notes
triplefrontierbabe · 2 days ago
Note
Hey! I love reading your work eSPECIALLY the smaus they're just 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 I want them to be in my soul you get me?
Anyways I wanted to request a sebastian vettel x reader fic where he's living alone/occasionally gets his kids around the house and the reader is his neighbour, a little bonding over the snowstorm and power outage, and him helping w the occasional car trouble (wink wink) Nothing too specific just wanted to read about seb through your writing!
Snowed In with Sebastian Vettel
Tumblr media
summary: you’re snowed in, so is Sebastian
pairing: f! reader x single! dad! Sebastian
warning: pining, some fluff?
a/n: I’m absolutely in love with all the Sebastian requests I’ve gotten. Also, anonymous, you’re so kind 😭🥹 I hope this did your idea justice! (should I make a part two???)
word count: 2k
Life has always been quieter in the countryside; less people, less noise and more distance between yourself and others. Although being a solo-flying person has its perks, it does feel alienating at times. You learned this all too fast once you finally moved towards the countryside. No longer did you have to share a wall with a noisy neighbor who has no regard for those around them, you were on your own and your closest neighbor was more than just a couple meters away.
Sebastian- that’s your neighbor- a single, recently divorced dad of three. When you first moved into your house, you went around your neighborhood to introduce yourself to your neighbors, most of whom seemed to be empty nesters, retired or both. Sebastian however was only retired, although you came to find out he said he still works philanthropically. The day you first met him, you also met his kids but it was only through an absentminded observation in the coming days that you realized he was single… not that that is important.
The days of living in your quant neighborhood came and went. Summer turned into fall which turned into winter. Through that time you occasionally had run-ins with Sebastian on the street, checking the mail or going for an afternoon walk. Eventually those run-ins became more intentional on both your parts. You figured out that he checks the mail at the same time each day, he figured out that you leave for work in the mornings promptly at 7:31 on the dot.
One fall morning, you got off to a very rough start. Your tire was flat and you could not find your car jack for the life of you. So, you made your way next door in search of help. You knocked on Sebastian’s door since you knew he was still at home and you’re pretty sure his kids were with their mom this week.
“This is gonna sound so stupid, but do you have a car jack?” You said as soon as Sebastian opened his front door. He chuckled a little at your distressed state, your usual cardigan you wore to work was thrown somewhere in your garage in a fit of slight rage earlier.
“Well, good morning to you too.” He said, smiling at you. Before then, you never realized how much taller he is than you. You have to crane your neck just to meet his gaze.
“Sorry, good morning, Sebastian.” You respond, letting out a huff of frustration.
“Well, you’re in luck,” He began “I happen to know a thing or two about cars.” You’ll never admit this to his face but upon the first time you met him, you were able to figure out he was a retired Formula 1 driver, though you’ll never admit that realization to his face.
“Why don’t you step in for a moment, the jack’s in the garage and it’s chilly out.” He says stepping aside to let you into his house. It’s the first time you’ve actually stepped foot in his house since all your interactions have occurred on the exterior. As he walks away to grab the jack, you let your eyes scan over the entryway. There’s a table with pictures of him with his kids and a photo of him from his beginning days in Formula 1. He was cute back then but his rugged look now fits him best you think to yourself. Despite being a home of three kids, the house is surprisingly clean, at least from what you can see from your spot in the foyer. After a few moments, Sebastian returns with the jack in his hand.
“Alright let’s go fix your tire.” He exclaims, waving the piece of metal in his hand. You turn on your heel to head out the door. Sebastian is close behind you and as he opens the door, he lightly lays his hand on your lower back to usher you out.
It only takes Sebastian a few moments to replace your tire which is half the time it would’ve taken you.
“There, good as new!” He says excitedly standing up and brushing his hands off on the sides of his jeans. You are quick to snap yourself out of the daze you were in– his arms just looked really good and muscular.
“Thank you so much, I owe you one.” You say clasping your hands together, bringing them up to rest beneath your chin as your gaze meets Sebastian’s. Thankfully, you were able to get to work on time with just a couple minutes to spare.
Ever since that one fall day, you circumstantially saw each other more often. Like one time Sebastian accidentally received a piece of your mail in his mailbox, or one time the lid of his garbage can blew into your yard, so on and so forth.
But no interaction could compare to the one you were bound to experience today. This winter’s weather is the nastiest the town has had in years. Every news station is predicting inches of snow, enough to keep everyone snowed in and worst of all, potential power outages. Snow began falling earlier today and it was enough to keep you home to work remotely. Last night you prepared yourself for Snowmageddon by breaking out all the candles and flashlights you would find.
Around lunch time, you noticed the snowfall begin to pick up. The accumulation was beginning to become serious and borderline worrying. And as you were beginning to prepare yourself a cup of soup for dinner, the power went out.
You thought you could power through the night without power, but the lack of heat got the better of you. The previous owner’s of your house had boarded up the fireplace and you always told yourself you’d get around to it but you never did. It only took a look out your side window to see smoke coming out of the chimney next door. So, you bundled yourself up in your coat, hat, scarf and blanket and trudged through the snow to the house next door.
Which brings you to where you are now; on the front porch of Sebastian’s house. It only took a couple knocks for Sebastian to come and answer the door.
“Are you okay?” He immediately asks, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. He’s wearing a black crewneck and gray sweatpants with an old Red Bull beanie which makes him look like an off-duty lumberjack since he’s let his hair and beard grow out.
“My power is out and my stupid fireplace is boarded up and I feel like I’m freezing to death.” You say as water fills your eyes. It’s hard to tell if the tears are from the blistering cold or just sheer frustration. In the back of your mind, you kick yourself for only having these interactions with Sebastian when you’re in a moment of desperation.
Sebastian gives you a look of pity when he sees a singular tear roll down your cheek. His heart breaks a little at the sight of your lip quivering and more tears welling up in your eyes.
“Please, make yourself comfortable in front of the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea.” He says guiding you to the couch that’s in front of the fireplace, crackling with comforting heat. You sit down and wrap your blanket tighter around your body. Looking around the room you see more photos of him and his kids and a few pieces of memorabilia from racing. By a quick glance, it’s hardly noticeable that he was ever a world renowned driver but it’s evident that since his retirement, he’s been trying to assimilate as normal of a life as he can.
Sebastian returns to the room with two mugs of herbal tea and a cup of soup. He sets the tea and soup down in front of you as he sits himself on the other end of the sofa.
You both sit in silence for a few minutes as you eat your soup and occasionally steep your tea. It’s a comfortable silence, neither of you feel the need to disrupt it as you drink in the moment of being in someone else’s company.
“This is very kind of you,” You begin to say while taking a sip of your tea “after this, I really do owe you.”
“Don’t even worry about it, seriously. After all, I have been meaning to invite you over ever since you moved in– I mean we’ve lived next door for months now and there’s only so much you can know about a person by checking the mail.” He says laughing. You offer him a smile as you nod your head. He is right, for months you’ve lived next to him but your words have always been very limited.
“Well, why don’t you start things off? Tell me about yourself.” You say, turning your body sideways so that your back rests against the armrest of the couch to face Sebastian.
He tells you the cliff notes version of his life, from his racing career to starting a family and retiring and he quickly brushes over the divorce that happened two years ago. In turn, you tell him about yourself, your job and what made you move out to the countryside. Easily enough, your conversation flows into talking about anything and everything. He tells you tales from the paddock and you tell him about the drama happening in your office.
In the middle of your hours-long conversation, Sebastian gets up to add more firewood to keep the fire burning. The domesticity of the situation is now at the forefront of your mind. You can’t remember the last time you really sat down and talked with someone like this. A small smile appears on your face when Sebastian turns back around to you.
“What?” He says with an inquisitive look on his face.
“Nothing. Just relishing in the moment.” You say as your smile grows wider. Sebastian stops in his tracks for a beat before he breaks out a toothy smile.
“Ever since I moved out here, I’ve just felt a little lonely so it’s nice to be in good company.” You say holding Sebastian’s gaze while he sits back down on the couch, closer to you this time.
“I know how you feel. The solitude out here is nice until it’s not.” He says looking at the fire. You’re still looking at him and you notice how the glow of the fire reflects in his bright eyes. Absentmindedly your eyes travel down his nose to his lips then up to his hair. It isn’t until you bring your gaze back to his eyes that you see he’s turned his attention back to you and he most certainly caught you analyzing his features. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks immediately flush out of embarrassment. How has it taken you this long to finally look at him, let alone really be in his presence?
“You should get some rest, it’s been a long day.” He says finally breaking the silence and you out of your thoughts. His eyes quickly flicker down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You’re too shocked to move or say anything. Whatever happens, happens you think to yourself. But nothing does. Sebastian simply stands up from the sofa, says goodnight then moves to the other sofa in the room. You’re too tired to overthink the interaction that was just had, you’ll do that in the morning. After a few moments of listening to the fire crackle, you drift off to sleep.
A couple hours later, Sebastian wakes up to feed the fire more wood to keep the warmth going. He sees you peacefully asleep on the couch with your hair tousled and your lips slightly parted, but to him you’ve never looked more radiant than in that moment. On his way back to his sofa, he leaves a small kiss on the crown of your head. Maybe being snowed in isn’t such a bad thing.
Tumblr media
F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist
message me to be added to my taglist!
34 notes · View notes
royal-chandler · 1 day ago
Text
temporary/maybe permanent title is winter interlude. written for the lovely @caressthosecheekbones ✨
--
Henry is certain that he's only just fallen asleep when he’s nudged awake, Alex’s soft scratched voice at his ear and his hand giving Henry’s wrist a slight squeeze. Henry’s answer to his name is a long groan. 
“Hen, baby. Can you wake up for me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please?”
Henry groans once more and burrows further into the pocket of warmth that’s been conjured from sleep, their thick cloud-like duvet, and Alex’s arms. He keeps his eyes shut and silently, drowsily wishes for Alex to concede. And of course, no such luck.
“I’ve got an amazing idea.”
“That for some ungodly reason can’t wait until morning?”
“It’s uh,” Henry feels Alex slightly shift away, imagines that he’s checking the nocturne glow of their bedside clock, “one thirty-six right now so technically...”
“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”
“Come on,” Alex draws out. He shakes Henry some more, as if he can transfuse enthusiasm through vibration or using Henry like a ketchup bottle that’s been sitting too long. “Come on, we’re losing starlight. Let’s get a move on.”
“Christ, Alex, what for?”
“It’s stopped snowing. We should go sledding.”
Henry snorts, incredulous in the quiet. “Fuck off.”
Clearly Alex has gone bonkers because there is no way on earth that Henry is dragging himself out of bed to charge down a hill of snow on a plastic death trap in freezing temperatures in the middle of the night. 
*
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Henry says, trudging through snow that’s at least twenty five centimetres deep at the rear of the White House. 
At Henry’s side and tugging him and his sledge the last bit to the crest of the hill, Alex says, “It'll be fun.”
“Ah, yes.” Henry nods. Editorialised with bone-dry sarcasm, he continues, “Whenever I think about fun, frostbite is the first thing that springs to mind.”
“It is nowhere near cold enough for that.” Alex brings up their joined hands. “Plus, you’ve got your little cute gloves on. You’re good.” 
The Aztec patterned gloves are secondhand from Alex, dug out of a closet cubby as he had pointedly made sure to mention that they were a gift from his abuela when he was thirteen and no longer fit. 
Alex had also emphasised that Henry didn’t need to give them back. That it was a transfer of ownership. And they are very nice, the fingerless sort that convert into mittens. The yarn stretches comfortably and the pouches slip over Henry’s fingers just right. 
“Everything will be fine,” Alex promises. He reaches out and clicks on Henry’s headtorch. His already lit grin is brilliantly illuminated. “Trust me.” 
“There’s no question of that,” Henry returns. “I only ask why this couldn’t wait for the daytime? You know, how it’s normally done.”
Alex simply shrugs, his grin gentling into something flagrantly affectionate. “Because right now it's like the world is just us.”
And fuck, what is Henry supposed to argue against that?
*
“How are you winning?!” Alex drags his sledge behind him with one hand and wildly gestures with the other. “You didn’t even want to do this. I did not plan on you winning.”
Above him and at the top of the hill already, Henry props an elbow on his now vertical vehicle that’s planted in the snow, watching Alex with amusement. His boyfriend is exceptionally precious when he pouts. “My being reluctant to sledging doesn’t mean I’m not skilled at it.”
“Best of seven,” Alex huffs upon arrival. 
“You have a problem. The terms were already agreed upon.”
“You scared?” 
Alex then proceeds to emit the noises of a fowl.
“Resorting to primary school tactics, are we?”
Alex only lifts his brow, his expression dancing with challenge.
“I'm going to need some proper motivation, darling,” Henry says, sliding on a smirk.
“I could be a victim of clichés and offer mind-melting sex if you win but you get that all the time anyway.”
Henry breaks into helpless laughter and agrees when he finds the cold air to do so. 
“So, instead, how about the next time I’m at the palace I take you up on those horseback lessons finally,” Alex says. 
“Truly? You’ve always seemed—uncomfortable around them.”
“Well they are huge, intelligent beasts that can buck me off and launch me god knows how many miles an hour into the air.”
“Dramatic." He pauses, shaking his head. "Really, Alex. You don’t have to.”
“You love it and it’s something we can do together. I’d like to try it out,” Alex says and he sounds sincere. “If I don’t enjoy the experience, I won't be shy about it.”
“And if you win? What do you want?”
“Here’s where I do get pervy."
"Of course."
"I win and you let me buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson and you wear them for me.”
“Nothing else, I’m assuming.”
“Anything else would get in the way, Henry.”
“You’re on.”
*
Minutes and minutes later, victory is Henry’s and he graciously accepts Alex’s request for a final run, plopping down on the front of Alex’s sledge when he makes a grabby motion for Henry, his legs open. Their combined weight rips them downslope, easily the record of the night. They’re a powdery pile at the bottom when they come to a stop short of the treeline with a sharp turn and tumble off the sledge. 
“You alright?” Henry asks. 
“I should be asking you. You’re the one who cushioned my fall. Am I smothering you?"
“It's all fine for now, love. You’ll be nursing my aching bruises later.”
“Obviously.” Alex animates the line of his brow. “Just call me the love doctor.”
“Won’t be doing that, thanks," Henry comments. Using his teeth—due to most of him being trapped under Alex—Henry yanks back the pouch of his right mitten. He assesses the snarled wreckage of Alex’s hair that’s been freed of the headtorch and clumsily combs through it with chilled fingers. There’s a small scratch by Alex’s temple. Henry thumbs away the paper-cut thin trace of red and finds Alex’s perfect eyes. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”
“Me? Never. I lost,” Alex insists, sweetly leaning his head into Henry’s touch. His adoration is spotless if not his honesty. “Life rolls on.”
Henry considers calling Alex out but a shiver distracts him, stalls his tongue. 
Alex’s arms around him tighten and with their physical arrangement, it’s plenty awkward. It’s also loving. He ridiculously presses a kiss to Henry’s wintry-wet palm. “Cold?”
Spellbound, Henry murmurs, “A bit, yeah.”
“I’ve got a way to get you warm,” Alex shares quietly. 
*
Henry moans and licks at his lips, chasing the flavor off his mouth. “This is sinful.”
“I know,” Alex says after a long sip from his UT mug. “Nothing beats Mexican hot chocolate.”
“And the amaretto? Ugh, chef’s kiss.”
“Discovered that little addition four Christmases ago.”
Henry smiles at him and eats another mini marshmallow. “The man’s a genius.”
“Yeah, my ideas aren’t all shit that will have us needing Icy Hot the next day,” Alex replies, his gaze dropping to where their sock feet share the spindle of a kitchen stool.
Henry lightly kicks him. Kicks him again to get his full attention. “Tonight wasn’t shit.”
“No?”
“No.”
Alex sighs, abandons his drink to rub at his stubbled jaw. “Snow felt like—like a fresh start. A renewal, I guess. Getting rid of yesterday. I know it’s not that easy, that it doesn’t work like that and it’s fucking stupid—”
His heart sore and swollen, Henry closes the distance that parts them, hushes Alex’s doubt with a slow and open kiss. He kisses past the cling of sugar and spice, until it’s clean. 
“I love you,” Henry says. His words are only a fraction of what he means but he knows Alex can read the spaces between. Thank you. It helps. You help.
“Love you still. Love you always.” Alex curls into him, his hand over Henry’s knee. 
He’s there. He’s there, Henry knows because he can read Alex’s spaces just as well.
--
please forgive any mistakes. i read over it but it was written very quickly. also, i’m fairly sure there are no hills behind the white house. the grounds are pretty flat but for some reason this fic insisted on being there.
38 notes · View notes
justalazytrashpanda · 3 days ago
Text
Hi I was originally gonna make a post analyzing all the blackmail available in PJED but I got sidetracked and just analyzed Desmond's
Theories below the readmore! Warning for spoilers
Desmond: with weapons at his disposal, he guards the only person he trusts
So Eva told Damon that it meant he had weapons at his disposal, which he does, but I find it interesting that we never see the picture that goes along with it. We see Cassidy’s image (despite her secret being an undertale reference) so this feels intentional
Which leads me to believe that the photo attached to that secret will be revealed eventually (if it wasn’t burnt to ash when Eva died), and that it might reveal who exactly the person he trusts is. Which leaves one question: who is it?
Before I get into theorizing I'd like to preface this saying that it's very possible that the blackmail is just trying to say that Desmond only trusts himself and is able and willing to defend himself, which is how Damon and Eva interpreted the secret. 
However, they're interpretation may not be the correct interpretation. He’s notorious so far for assuming the worst of and underestimating people in this game, and Eva could've been hiding information, so it's not a stretch to say that this is another instance of that.
But anyway, I think the person Desmond trusts is Eloise, and here’s my evidence for that, loosely ordered from least to most convincing.
They’re often seen together in promotional art
At the beginning of the game they’re both in the courtyard, and they continuing to hang out throughout the game (granted this could be interpreted as Desmond trying to get closer with her, since in the FTE'S he expressed a desire to get close with everyone and Eloise expressed the exact opposite)
When Desmond is trying to explain his roommates idea Eloise helps him out, she’s also the first person to question separating the roommates by gender
When Grace is giving Eloise shit about the blackmail Desmond comes to her defense, and it's only after this that Eloise hands the blackmail over
He's also seen comforting her after Grace tackles her during the investigation, and is the first to insist challenging Grace to get into Wolfgang's room.
During the class trial Desmond backs up Eloise’s criticism of Grace, and when people start suspecting Desmond, Eloise is quick to come to his defense
And by quick I mean she reacts to it before Desmond does, and you have to agree with Eloise to progress the game
Judging by how the group tends to read people AND what's revealed about the both of them in their freetime events, I could see a situation form where people are more scared of Desmond (with the marksmen talent, involvement in case 1 via the taser, and the blackmail) even though Eloise is a much bigger threat (with her threatening Damon in her first FTE and being very wary of the cast in general)
Which could be an interesting parallel with their respective animals with sharks being over hated while swans are way more violent than people give them credit for 
Speaking of animal symbolism, it's also worth noting how several species of sharks have been seen forming friend groups, and how swans most often display violent behavior when their chicks or mates are threatened.
Now why he trusts her is still up for debate, but judging by the evidence my best bet would be that they were friends outside of the deathgame. Ingrid did mention being named an Ultimate a year before attending the academy, so it's possible they met through that.
I saw some people theorizing that he may be a bodyguard and this might be like a Peko situation, but I personally doubt that in connection with this theory. Mostly because in Eloise's freetime events it seems like she isn't in the best financial situation, meanwhile in Desmond's its confirmed his family is rather well off.
How likely do I think that this is actually the case? Idk like… 60%. I could’ve completely misread things, this was mostly just me rambling lol
29 notes · View notes
lol-jackles · 2 days ago
Note
I was pursuing your “Destiel” tag (thank you for posting it for that anon, btw, and bringing it back to my attention), and came across this statement from you:
“As a result, douchy Jensen + going off script = other actors trying to cope. My favorite was 2016 because that was when my girlfriend leaned close to the screen and said, "Jared, blink twice if you're being held against your will". Since then Jared had figured out how to handle these ~unscripted~ moments, but Misha hasn't.”
What was the moment in particular at 2016 JIB that made your girlfriend say that? Or what was Jensen going at that one? Wasn’t Gen at that one, too?
Also, what would you say Jared’s strategy has been in dealing with Jensen (when drunk) on stage at JIB? And why does Jensen seem “meaner” to Jared at JIB than at CE or AHBL cons? Which is closer to thier actual dynamic, do you think?
And I just have to add, it was pretty amusing seeing Misha momentarily (sadly not longer) regret his life choices at, was it 2019 JIB, where he pointed out the Destiel shirt and Jensen yelled about “where is it real?” Do you think Jensen was actually annoyed in this panel? I say yes, but my brother says no.
Jensen seems to keep it together more at JIBs post pandemic, but I was at JIB 13, and he gave off a huge air of just being over the whole thing by his solo Sunday panel. And he and Rich were essentially running out the clock by being loud idiots (my ears still hurt from being near a speaker).
They all claim to love JIB, but they also all seem pretty over it come Sunday.
Sorry that got long. Would love to see your response to any parts.
This was the first time I briefly talked about the infamous Jib con. Back in 2016 I used to think their co/dependent friendship was doomed at the 10-year mark because when one isn’t adjusting to the changing time, then the idolatries friendship can’t last more than 10 years at best.  I listed a few examples (X) from a feminist blog about women ending their female friendships, a woman ending her friendship with a male friend (X) Oliver Broudy’s story of ending his 10-year friendship with a college friend (X).  These friendships ended because one of them was stuck and making more and more demands on the unstuck friend.  We know happened after season 10 wrapped up (X) (X).
Anyways, what got my girlfriend's attention was Jared looking like a tug of war rope between Gen and Jensen and the boys. Regular corporate SPN cons in the U.S are already a male-dominated atmosphere bordering on frat boy shenanigans. At least there are corporate handlers and security to help keep the actors in line, plus alcohol are banned for actors. Jib cons are fan-run with no handlers and alcohol are allowed, and usually there are no actresses because the cost of the extra Jensen/Misha and Jared/Misha panels means some actors are going to get cut out and it’s usually the actresses. Without female colleagues around, the men really rile each other up at Jib cons, it’s part of their bonding and one-upmanship rituals. I think why Gen rarely participated in SPN cons is because she didn't want to be around all that dude energy. But 2016 was different because I think she blamed herself for leaving the 2015 British con early and is still traumatize that she nearly lost Jared few days later, so Gen agreed to let Jared drag bring her to Jib con. Men don’t like wives/girlfriends homing in on their bro times and Jensen was noticeable irritated that Jared’s wife was there and during the closing ceremony Jensen used air quotations marks while talking about Gen’s marriage to Jared who had his arms wrapped around her. He looked peeved at Jensen and then then laughed it off because what else could he do on stage?
(Side note: it’s not easy for men to find male friends and keeping them.  I hated the movie I love you, man because it was too familiar, and Paterson made me uneasy because Adam Driver's character has no male friends and he's more than okay with that because he has a wife.)
Jensen seems "meaner" not just to Jared but to every actor there, especially Misha. At these fan-run conventions, there are no "scripts" (guidelines actually) to follow. Most actors were still going by the guidelines from corporate-run conventions when they're on stage, but not Jensen because it's part of his upmanship as a way to both bond and dominate others. It's a Ryan Seacrest and Brian Dunkleman type situation. Maybe Jensen learned this trick from Ryan who used to be his roommate. Misha is not a natural improviser, his guest appearance on Whose Line Is it Anyways shows that, so he's the least apt at handling Jensen's off script moments. Half the time Jensen wasn't actually drunk but acts like it to avoid the inevitable asinine Destiel-loaded questions from the hellers in the audience.
Jared's strategy was about the same at pre-2016 JIB cons and CE cons because he's pretty apt at smoothing things over between Jensen and the fans. At the infamous 2013 New Jersey con a self-claiming bisexual girl tried to ask Jensen a loaded Destiel question and he snapped at her with, “don’t ruin it for everybody” and Jared immediately calmed Jensen down and salvaged the rest of the experience for sane fans.
Tumblr media
Stuff like this is closer to their real life dynamic as the Giver and the Taker. If you read the "codependency tag", Jared the Giver cleans up the messes the Taker make. Givers think they're helping but they're actually enabling and don't improve things. Jensen's reputation took a slight hit, and it took a few years for the New Jersey con to be memory-holed. Apparently Jensen didn't learn from this and 3 years later mocked a girl wearing a "Destiel is real" shirt at the 2019 JIB. Misha told Jensen to not “fight with fans” and Jared was gesturing to a fan in the front row as if saying don’t look at me look at him. That may answer your question, Jared stopped trying to calm Jensen down and instead focus on heading off fans who gets too snippy at Jensen, like at a DC con few years back where a girl was trying to look cool but came off sounding hostile towards Jensen, so Jared left the stage and hugged the stuffings out of the girl, deflating her hostile-sounding voice.
I don't think I've seen Jensen's solo panel at JIB13, but he's usually looks like he's watching the clock during his Jared-less panels so that's nothing new. It's been the case for many years and a common complaint by fans, it's why CE stopped having solo J panels early on because Jensen needs a scene partner. It goes back to why Jensen works better as a scene-stealing supporting actor instead of a leading man. How Jensen made Dean Winchester have memorable moments was by putting his focus on the other person.  By using this method, Jensen can stop worrying about how he’s going to say his lines and speak intuitively, this helps make Dean appear truthful to the audience.  It may be why Jensen doesn’t read scripts ahead of time.   Jensen doesn’t go into a scene looking to do a scene, instead he goes in looking to be open and give over to how the other person (in this case, Jared playing Sam) makes him feel.  This method worked great for Jensen when his character has Sam to focus on, and Jensen has Jared to react to.  It’s why Dean’s dying moments with Sam in the barn works so well in the series’ finale.
Tumblr media
.
You probably heard of the saying, “acting is reacting”.
A demon’s acting philosophy in The Good Place: “Demons have to learn that Acting Is Reacting.  And Reacting Is Pre-acting. But Pre-acting? Well, that’s just being.”  
While “acting is reacting” gets mocked in the acting community because it’s a trap alot of actors fall into by adjusting their truthful inner life to their assumptions about the text.  Good acting is adjusting the text to your authentic emotion which is the result of the other person.  This where Jensen’s good acting comes from and it’s become his comfort zone and made him a multimillionaire by his mid 30s.  He’s in what my acting coach calls “the truthful contact”, it’s where actors are taught the first stage of authentic acting.  The next stage is “crafting”.  When you’re working solo without a screen partner, your skill at crafting becomes vital.  Crafting means anywhere from ability to endow meaning to objects so they have emotional meaning is important, or effectively get across justifications and point of views.  
24 notes · View notes
wolfsong-the-bloody-beast · 7 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
@ghost-type-eevee
I can't believe somebody's actually asking for more of my rambling. That's so nice of you to say, though! Have a picture of Alistair with a lamppost I made in the DAO Toolset years ago, just because.
Tumblr media
(Except, I don't think there are metal lampposts in Origins, so this one had to do, haha.)
As for Alistair and the Wardens, he definitely also thinks they're the good guys. Though with him, I think his beliefs come from a different dimension than Blackwall's and Wynne's.
Alistair is very young in Origins. He's 20 at best. Most importantly, though, the game gets extensively into how lonely his whole childhood was. How because he was a bastard child, he was given away to Arl Eamon as a little boy. How that was the only family he truly had back then, yet he wasn't even allowed to build a proper connection with him, because Eamon's wife didn't want him around. She was too worried he might make her look bad, and that was more important than the little boy's wellbeing. The old fool Eamon caved and gave him away. Yet again, he was abandoned. But even before that, he spent his time lonely, with Eamon's dogs for company. So, he ended up in the Chantry, undergoing training to be a templar, effectively trapped in an organization that he didn't like (And which he saw for what it was! How scary is that?), training for a job he didn't want to do. Awful place for a child. Even more awful when you know you might have to spend your whole life there. And you'd think he'd find friends there - surely there must have been other kids around his age? But coming from Arl Eamon, the other kids thought he was putting on airs, he said, so he was alone yet again. He grew up like this. Saying that it must have been absolutely miserable, probably doesn't even begin to cover it, I think.
And then... Duncan came and got him out. Impossible to imagine what that must have been like. Alistair makes it clear he genuinely believes that Duncan saved him, that he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Not only that, but Duncan also became his father figure. Among the other Wardens, he found friends, brothers. Finally, probably for the first time in his life, he had a social circle, he had company, friends. Duncan is the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. Finally, he wasn't alone.
And, in the end, what's more worthwhile than killing monsters, anyway? It sure beats decapitating terrified young mages.
But you know all that! However, I'm saying all this because... I think his opinions of the Wardens are heavily influenced by that. Especially that. The Wardens are the good guys, because that's how he's experienced them. The Wardens are friends and family. The Wardens make good things happen.
In comparison with Blackwall, though, Alistair is an actual Warden. He lives the reality of it. He saw Duncan kill Jory during the Joining ritual. He watched as the new recruits drank what's basically poison with a high chance of killing them. I don't think his ideas of the Wardens are as knightly as Blackwall's, but he still does have a high opinion of them. He would probably agree with Wynne, anyway. In part, I suppose, also simply because Alistair himself is a goody-two-shoes. And with him and the Warden being the only surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden, who's going to be there to argue proper methods anyway?
Funnily enough, if you have Alistair as the Warden for Inquisition, it is his strong moral compass and common sense, his refusal to follow the principle that the Blight must be defeated by any means necessary, that helps put an end to Corypheus' plans and save whatever is left of the order at Adamant. He was the only one who protested agaist the Wardens making rather dubious allies, to say the least, to the point that the order started hunting him. Which led the Inquisitor to join forces with him, in the end. (Of course, the order also ends up hunting Stroud and Loghain, but I haven't had them in my game yet, so I can't speak for them.)
And yet! Despite all that, he still defends the Wardens in all the arguments they have with Hawke. He just wants the Wardens to be the good guys so much. And all things considered, I guess I can't blame him.
Tumblr media
I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.
In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.
“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”
However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.
Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.
We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.
It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.
And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.
And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.
In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.
68 notes · View notes
annabelle--cane · 2 days ago
Note
Do you think Jon gives people nightmares when reading a written statement that hasn’t been read before and the statement giver is still alive?
There are some lines suggesting this could be the case in 123 and 154 (could be more that I forgot):
“I may be the first person to actually read it, so… sorry Angie, I suppose” (the apology here could maybe be about how no one’s looked into it, but considering how the institute doesn’t really help people anyway I personally read it as Jon apologizing for giving her the dreams)
“I’ve been trying to avoid, being, um- sticking to old statements?” (Old as in already written and not taking them live or old as in the statement giver is dead?)
But it also feels like it would have been mentioned? Jon never mentioning it could just be him being. like that. But in Elias’s statement about Jon’s dreams we only hear about the live ones
Another thing about the "do the written statements cause nightmares" thing that i forgot. Adelard dekker mentioned in his written statement to gertrude that he'd get dreams from it. so I guess it is pretty clear that that is how it works? It has to be. Find it weird that they never discuss it tho, even if they must at least be aware of it since jon was avoiding reading the older ones? (now i need to go through the statements after the intervetion and check if he reads any recent ones)
I've wondered about this before, too, and I think the best read is that the dreams start when an archivist encounters a statement for the first time, either by hearing it live or reading it. this doesn't completely work, there were a few statements given in written form after gertrude's death that jon reads and then aren't mentioned in mag 120, but also the entire timeline around gertrude's death is so incomprehensible that I'm willing to just put that down to "doesn't matter." maybe mark bilham is tucked away somewhere in one of the dark-related exhibits in jon's nightmare zoo and elias just didn't mention him.
no clue how "dig" ended up in there, though.
37 notes · View notes
harrietswriting · 2 days ago
Note
Hihi! Im so sorry if this is pushing a boundary or something, but personally, I struggle with an eating disorder. I was wondering if you could write like a Curtis sister imagine where one of them finds out that reader is dealing with an ed and tells the other brothers? Just like a shit ton of angst + comfort. Again, I’m so sorry if this is pushing some sort of boundary. I hope you have a lovely day 🫶🏻
Your Brothers Found Out You Have an ED
Curtis Brothers x gn!sibling!reader
An: I wish everyone out there struggling with an ed the best of luck at recovery. Yall are beautiful and deserve the world. 💕 I hope this is kinda accurate. If it's not and it's weird then please let me know!
Word count: 750
W: discussion of ED, reader with ED, Darry is a bit insensitive at first
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"I'm not really hungry, Darry." You stand in the kitchens entryway and mess with your sleeves as your older brother cooks dinner. "I ate earlier."
"Well, you need to stop doing that. You're always spoiling your dinner. When was the last time you ate with us, y/n?" He looks over at you.
Your cheeks flush and you avoid his eyes. It's been awhile since you've eaten dinner with them. You normally just drink a glass of water and talk about your day as they eat, trying to talk over the grumbling of your stomach. But you lie, "I ate that pasta you made a few nights ago." You had taken a bite of the Alfredo pasta, but you felt awfully guilty and regretted it.
Sodapop had been sitting in the dining room and had over heard your conversation with Darry. He'd noticed your lack of eating and was really worried about you. Maybe Darry couldn't see that something was wrong, but Soda could. He couldn't remember that last time he'd seen you eat a healthy amount of food. He's also noticed your abnormal weight loss and how fatigued you've been lately.
"I'll eat leftovers when I get hungry." You lie.
Darry sighs then goes back to cooking. "Okay, y/n."
"Sorry."
"Its fine, but you're eating with us tomorrow."
Damn it. You'd have to ask one of your friends if you could stay over or hang out at their house tomorrow evening to avoid that. But you say: "okay."
You turn around and walk out of the kitchen, heading towards your room. You try not to panic about potentially having to eat dinner tomorrow while you walk.
Soda watches you go towards your room. Hr waits until he hears the door close, then he gets up and heads into the kitchen.
"Hey Darry, we need to talk about y/n." Soda says.
Darry looks up from the pot he's stirring and gives Sodapop a questioning look. "What about 'em?"
Soda hesitates for a moment, then begins. "I don't think they're eating Darry. Like, at all. Or at least, not nearly enough."
Darry's saddened by this idea, and a long, sad, heartbreaking conversation follows. He doesn't want to believe Soda at first.
Ponyboy finally finished his homework and joined his brothers in the kitchen. His heart dropped when he heard what Soda thought.
"You really think... why would y/n do that?" He asks quietly.
Soda shrugs. "I don’t know. So, what do we do now? Do we have an intervention kind of thing?"
"Y/n is eating dinner with us." Darry states, then calls your name.
"Darry, I don’t know if rushing them into eating is the best idea." Soda counters.
You come out of your room and make your way to the kitchen where all three of your brothers are. "Yeah?"
"You're eating dinner with us." Darry crosses his arms. Soda looks at you sympatheticly and Ponyboy looks worried. They can't know, right?
"I ate earlier though." You say quietly, trying to mask your panic. Soda frowns.
"What'd you eat?" Darry asks.
You pause. "I.. I made eggs."
"Don't be a liar."
"I'm not-"
"Both of you stop." Soda interrupts, "Y/n, you're not eating, and we're worried about you. That's not good for you. I'm no genius, but I'm pretty sure eating a healthy amount of food is super important."
You stare at them, unsure of what to say. They know, so you can't deny it, but you don't want to admit it either.
Darry speaks, "This ends now, this not eating thing."
"It's not that easy." You mutter.
"It's a disorder, Darry." Pony chimes in. He glances at you then looks at the ground.
This sucks. You're feel helpless. You feel cornered. You can't get yourself out of this. Its embarrassing having them know, and its worring. Yeah, you need help, but sometimes you dont want it. You hug your arms around yourself as you look at the ground and tears blur your vision.
Darry sighs, walks over, and hugs you. "It's okay, y/n. You're not in trouble. We just want to help you." Soda joins in the hug, "Yeah, y/n." Then Ponyboy joins in too. You can't help but smile a little with your brothers hugging you. You know they love and care about you, and in this hug, you feel safe.
The group hug eventually breaks up. You sniffle and wipe your eyes. Soda looks at you tenderly. "How can we help you?"
Tumblr media
an: argh! I hope this is sweet and lives up to your expectations. I didn't want to have the reader give specifics on how the brothers can help them in the fic, because everyone is different and needs different things.
34 notes · View notes
gouraminnow · 1 day ago
Note
Shanks anon here and it’s so okay I always love reading your analysis/ the reasoning behind shanks’ character in your yandere fics! It makes your fics feel so real like the characters feel so.. in character when they typically feel ooc in yandere fics.
your response made me wonder- what would shanks or benn (or both ;)- okay I need to stop) be like with an emperor darling? Or an admiral darling since admirals are placed on the same power scale as emperors? I feel like this would require them to actually really have to strategize to get their darling since it’s not as easy as just flexing their position as an emperors crew and just snatching their darling up.
Thank you!! Honestly being OOC is something I worry about. I know it's not the biggest deal ever, it's fanfic and we're already warping things, but I very much obsess over whether or not things feel "right" enough to me, haha. Like yeah yandere versions of characters differ but there are still core aspects of a character that make them who they are.
Rambling under the cut, much lighter on Benn tbh... hint of suggestiveness at the absolute very end like literally the last sentence
Anyway if Mc is another Emperor, then Shanks is gonna try and pester them into an alliance, first of all. He's friendly and laying on the charm, but also a bit more serious than he would be with a civillian or less powerful/experienced pirate. You're someone who could actually potentially cause problems for him if he pushes too hard. A lot more passive, but pays special attention to your movements. If he runs into any of your subordinate crews or other members, he's friendly with them too- willing to assist them in battle if they bite off more than they can chew. Sends them back to you with gifts- both for them, and something meant to be delivered directly to you.
And he "runs into" you too, of course! Very frequently, actually. Throws a party, does his best to draw you and your crew in. All the better to give gifts directly, isn't it? Some quality alcohol is his go-to, but he likes you. Does his best to dig for any interests you may have, learn/estimate your clothing sizes... whether or not Benn is into you as well, Shanks tries to get him to dig a little as well. He'll grunt, maybe even roll his eyes, but approaches you all the same. Probably has more luck anyway, since according to that SBS he scores more ladies than Shanks lmao.
If it's Benn who's interested and not Shanks, then... I think it'd be funny if things don't change all that much, actually. Teases Benn for aiming high, but ultimately decides to try and be a good wingman for his first mate. It's the least he can do, after all! And if he does succeed in getting with you, the resulting alliance will be good for everyone, he reasons. Benn has a headache.
Benn would also send gifts, I think, but they're smaller. More personal and often functional. A small bottle of your favorite spirits, a leather-bound journal, a small piece of subtle but pretty jewelry. A replacement for a scabbard strap that snapped during a skirmish, an extra button when one popped off of your coat... was he even there for that? How did he notice..?
And Benn is no stranger to drinking and partying, of course, but he makes more relaxing company than Shanks. Won't pester you or drag you into things the same way Shanks will, happy to find somewhere a little quieter and just enjoy a shared drink and a moment of quiet.
All in all, kidnapping is far less likely to be on the table. You're on equal footing, and neither man wants the massive clash between Yonkos or the deaths that would result from it that could come from this. They both ultimately want you to like them, after all, and captivity wouldn't break the Will of someone like you even if they did manage it.
An Admiral Mc, on the other hand... oof.
This has a bigger chance of blowing up but Shanks is high-maintenance and loves to court danger. Takes care of troublemakers for you, which pisses you off because you do not need him for that, goddamnit. He likes to antagonize you, knowing you can't just start something without the input of the other Admirals. You're on par with him, but ultimately still a tool for the WG... if you fail, they're more likely to write you off as a failure than a loyal crew would. Would try to get you to defect. Aokiji did it after all, so it's not impossible. But if you're determined to remain a Marine, well... if he can beat you, kidnapping IS on the table here as an alliance is impossible. Uses the danger your subordinates are in against you. The gap between you and them is just too big, are you really willing to risk all of them..? It's worse for an Admiral, tbh. If they can't get you to leave the Marines and join them, and they succeed in taking you for themselves, they're more willing to break you than a fellow Yonko. Can see it becoming something akin to a brat-taming scenario, tbh.
24 notes · View notes
memepocalypse · 2 days ago
Text
Bardic Inspiration Starters pt. 2
[source]
"There is no sweeter music than the screams of our enemies. Now, go compose."
"As much as I would enjoy looting your dead body, I truly do want you to succeed here."
"If reckless shenanigans got us into this mess, then why can't they get us out?"
"If it weren't for a foolish attempt at glory, then nothing would ever be accomplished.
"You might fail, die even. But at least it won't be boring."
"They say laughter is the best medicine. Your face must be curing the world."
"Your roar didn't scare me. The stench of your breath did though."
"This a special occasion. I didn't typically engage in mental combat with the unarmed."
"You're proof that even the gods make mistakes sometimes."
"As it turns out, stupidity is a crime, and you have been sentenced to death."
"You will never face an opponent as great as I. In fact, you will never face anyone again."
"This isn't going to hurt for long. But oh damn is it going to hurt."
"We're not going to simply stand here poking fun at you. We're also going to poke swords and arrows at you."
"People told me you were terrible. It's not true. You're actually far worse than that.
"Some babies get dropped on their heads. You obviously were thrown against a wall."
"At first I thought that you were brave. Then I realized you're actually just stupid."
"You run about whacking things with a piece of metal. Truly, what an advanced being you are.""You remind me of an ape in armor."
"Typically I have to pay to see a freak show like you."
"As an outsider, how does it feel to have humanoids slaying you?"
" You fiends are most courteous."
"You are full of malevolence, wickedness, and evil. Soon you are going to be full of our weapons and spells."
"Fiends have been trying to take over the world for thousands of years, and you've failed every time. Are you noticing a pattern here?"
"You're probably too stupid to understand this, but worry not, the confusion will be over soon."
"If you shave a dwarf, all that's left is a nose and a beer gut."
"Elves live ten times longer than humans and accomplish ten times less."
"The only thing lucky about halflings is how they don't get crushed to death by real people walking around."
"I am not certain what it is that makes you so stupid, but it really works."
"Is this your first battle ever? Well, it's certainly your last."
"Blade with whom I have lived, blade with whom I now die, serve right and justice one last time, seek one last heart of evil, still one last life of pain, cut well old friend, and then farewell."
"I do not study the divine to imitate what they do. I study the divine to imitate what they are."
"The PCs aren't for the wine or storytelling, they are here for the gnome tossin' and dwarf wresslin'!"
"The secret we should never let the gamemasters know is that they don't need any rules."
"I was once a man, not a great man, not a saintly man, but a good man, and a man nonetheless."
"I did not choose to be a monster—a shell of a man—half-human, half-fiend. I am a tiefling. I am what I am."
"If it has walked these lands, I can track it. If it hasn't I will find it anyway."
"Because the wizard will eventually need a personal audience when slaying gods."
"That perfection is unobtainable is not an excuse not to strive for it."
"Words carry weight. Mine far more so than yours."
28 notes · View notes
isolatednights · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
those words are enough for a shudder to make its way through his frame - an unspoken promise that despite this bump in the road, she will be right there with him - with them. "make it nice and safe for you and the kids," he murmurs in answer. in another life, maybe they'd have somewhere with access to outside - to the sun, a fresh garden and plenty of room to run around. and if he couldn't give them that, he'd find the next best thing.
he wants to say yes - that he does know - but the man finds himself torn. greedy to hear the words spoken aloud because there is no guarantee of tomorrow, let alone the next hour these days - but also terrified because he's never uttered such words to anyone but his kid sister. saying them would make this so much more real ; and it wasn't that he was unwilling to do so... just terrified. smoothing a thumb along her cheek bone, asher eventually finds himself nodding. "in our home," he agrees.
she slips away to sleep much quicker than he does - entirely distracted by her closeness. he spends the spare time observing her up close - how her lashes fall against her cheeks and the way she curls against him as if they'd always been one. but eventually, the exhaustion of the day wears away at him, and he drifts off.
Tumblr media
hours pass, and it's only slight movement upon the mattress that drives his eyes open once more - immediately searching for a threat, only for relax upon spotting the two children curled behind eden. hiding a snort at the sight, asher eases back down. an oddity, given the man is typically the first up and moving among them - getting everyone ready for the day before they're forced to push on. the man stills completely when the children speak amongst themselves and he finds himself grateful that eden at least responds. they've become guardians to the two children certainly, but he'd never thought they'd consider him as a father. swallowing around the lump in his throat, the hand previously settled at eden's waist raises to smooth down the hair of both children. "you know how sometimes you get tired and i gotta carry you, right?" he asks, continuing once two small heads nod the affirmative at him, "your mom was just having one of those days. tired 's all. we're gonna take the day to rest up and'll move again tomorrow."
it was clear enough that eden was made to grow old somewhere where she could've woken to birds chirping, where sunlight streamed in and fresh air wafted the curtains. a home with soft features, family portraits, memories in the furniture and at the heart of it, she would be. somewhere she could live slowly, easily. that wasn't going to be her life but it should have been and though it might never have happened, she'd have still wanted him there. she knew that he thought she wouldn't like him in the world before, but she wondered if he'd have even looked at her twice. there were so many women that would've thrown themselves at him, that must she could imagine vividly and what would she have been anywhere? a girl at the other side of the counter with a silly crush on a man she'd serve baked goods and coffee too? maybe she'd have been brave enough to write her mobile number on a receipt one day. maybe he'd have seen that she'd have found a way to adore him in any life.
some nights it upset her, to know that they were such good kids and deserved everything the world would've offered them, and that it might never be right again. it might remain like this with a disbanded system, stragglers just surviving. it'd always be... surviving. she eased in to the kiss, the way he peppered her skin so affectionately. for a few moments she felt normal again, not a weak version of herself, not a girl at the end of the world but eden o'connor, crushing on a man that'd done nothing but care for her.
Tumblr media
"we''ll find a home.." she whispered, forehead against his, heat flooding her cheeks beneath the way his hand brushed across her, he'd probably feel the heat of her blush. her nose was resting aginst the tip of his, whilst her body felt heavy she didn't feel stiff, she just seemed.. comfortable, at ease, finally. "you know, right?" her voice a barely audible whisper. "i hope you know, deep down, and one day i'll say it, in our home."
it was about ten minutes later that she stopped fighting that natural wariness in her bones, her body giving in to the sleep and rest it needed but she was still close, her body warm and flush with his but her breath was a gentle lull, she was peaceful and eden rarely slept quite that peacefully, no mumbles of a brother lost, no names from a distant world that'd long gone.. sleeping in asher's arms was by far, the most at ease she ever slept.
come morning they were both awoken by the children, they were bringing their blankets, laying beside their mom and waiting to see her eyes blink over. "mommy's awake- mommy are you okay?" the girl fretted. "daddy said she'd be okay." the boy continued. it didn't click at first, but they called her mom and they called asher dad and.. it was the first time they'd really referred to them as parents like that. she rolled, raising an arm and both of them moved to cuddle into her side. they'd worried for their mom. "i'm alright.." she shushed, a hand running up and down the girls back, swapping between the two after a moment.
35 notes · View notes
vaguely-concerned · 2 months ago
Text
I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)
aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao
(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)
#myrna is actually really proud of him for pushing through and becoming a very fine member of the mourn watch#(and a good man)#but she is also. well. myrna. so she has never expressed as much to him. (she thought it went without saying. it did not!)#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar#neve gallus#considering how satisfying the Arc with davrin has been I hope this can liven up neve and rye's interactions for me!#also very interesting and fitting b/c davrin will come for you where you live and go 'and hey btw ANOTHER THING --' no bullshit#which rye finds SO annoying but is probably why their relationship has grown so deep so quickly b/c davrin won't let him avoid him#while neve is ironically a lot more like him and it means they have a much harder time reaching each other b/c they're both so watchful#and guarded. they vibed so hard in the beginning it was all neve approves all the times b/c they have similar instincts. and now look at us#we live in the same house and politely pretend the other one doesn't exist. we're making ghosts out of each other!!!#explaining why he's semi-avoiding her. he thinks he's being thoughtful in giving her her space but uh. well.#perhaps more flight behaviour in that than he's willing to gaze at directly haha#rye looks at lucanis claiming he's a mess and goes 'oh buddy you should've seen me the first day in a year I was fully sober#and working on that fucking orb with head pounding and eyeliner running. even like this you're one of the tidiest#and most disciplined people I've ever met. you're literally fine.'#the reason the romance is so slow is not even mostly on lucanis I think rye is the slower to truly open up one in that dynamic lol#hey. I love rook. I love him so much. my trying his best underachieving babyboy who killed god when he got it together#I suspect this is going to be a situation where I've planned multiple other playthroughs#that will inevitably be hampered by '...but where is rye tho. I wish rye was here. does anyone else miss rye' lmao#for reference I've finished DA:O at least 4 times. and all four of them was sophia amell doing exactly the same things. I have a Pattern lo#a pattern I have only really broken in da:i where I have three inquisitors I care about sort of equally (adaar is my fave#but I have fondness for them all)#hawke I basically play as always the same person just AUs of him haha. what if he was a mage instead and it was somehow even sadder#that sort of thing
12 notes · View notes