#also I’m not sure why I got a book pass for this considering I’ve read it before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lilithinstarlight · 9 months ago

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Hi hi! This is the person who requested the Freminet x seacreature!Reader! I saw you were interested in anons and was wondering if I could be considered 🍰 Anon?

Yippie! 🎉🎉

Also sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, I’m on the verge of passing out rn 😭🙏

Here's my request? (These are becoming more of me just rambling about scenarios 😔😔) : Lyney x Secretive!Reader

(Ik you just did a Lyney related post but I love this little guy <3 (I'll try being more diverse next time)

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Imagine;

Lyney is taking a walk around town, he isn’t sure how he got here nor why he is here but it’s peaceful. Well until he sees someone dressed in all black from head to toe (I imagine something like a veil on their face as well but that’s not as important) to say it was weird is an understatement.

He doesn’t know how to feel about the person it definitely wasn’t something you’d normally expect someone to dress like. They sat near a café and were reading some kind of book, but it wasn’t like they paid him any mind. So he continued with his stroll, but when passing by he was stopped suddenly.

Lyney looks back to see them holding their wrist, but before he make any attempt at discussion they let go. They shift a small envelope into his hands, stands up, and walks off. It takes him a couple of seconds to understand what happened, but by the time he realizes Reader has already left…

(The letter can be anything you wish it to be :3)

It’s been a couple of weeks/months and it seems Reader had simply vanished until Lyney finds himself strolling around after a show once more. He finds himself wandering near the café he saw the mysterious person awhile ago highly expecting them to not be there once again. However he is shocked to find the person doing the exact thing as before- reading a book.

He hops into the seat next to them wishing for answers especially after reading that letter. He has been analyzing it for hours before night, looking for any second message, anything that could indicate something specific. He yet to find such a thing and he needs answers…now.

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And that is where I’ll let your mind go wild! >:3 Answer however you wish, will they be strangers? Will they be enemies? Will they be secret lovers?

What shall they be….only you can decide >:D

(I’m sorry that probably sounds so cringy 😔 I promise I’m kinda normal I’ve just been obsessed with choose your own adventure games recently)

HELLO!!!! I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! Also!!! bc i've been so busy at school i don't think i'll be able to keep this blog running... i'm super sorry but education yknow....

ANYWAYS it's totally not cringy! ur request is under the cut! :)

Though the sunlight was beginning to fade and the sky was painted in beautiful sorbet shades of an orange-to-purple mélange, Lyney found himself wandering between the silver coated houses of the more suburban areas of Fontaine.

His fingers traced the cold metal of the homes as he walked, and he softly hummed to entertain his mind. His siblings would surely be beginning to worry, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not yet. Something was... calling him.

"Ah!"

Lyney could feel his hands gripping the pavement as he let out a yelp. Looking down, he saw he had tripped on a set of stairs. Looking up, a young person sat, face hidden by a near-opaque veil. They were reading a book - Les Fleurs du Mal - and did not spare a single glance towards him as he picked himself up and dusted his clothes off. He wasn't hurt, so he decided to continue.

That person...

He shook his head. Not his business.

One step after the other, Lyney was almost completely gone from the cafe.

And then, he stopped. A cold, dry hand was clasped around his wrist. He whipped around, jerking his arm away, and saw that same veiled figure.

He opened his mouth to ask, but they slipped a note into his other hand and proceeded to run the direction he was about to head. Clearly, they had no desire to be followed.

Unable to stop his curiosity, Lyney stepped to the side of one of the houses and began to quietly and slowly open it, glancing from side to side.

To The Man in the Large Hat -

Though I am hesitant to help your kind, I feel obligated to inform that your bowtie was dropped as you fell. Please do not attempt to thank nor contact me in any way.

That was the end. His bowtie? He looked down at his shirt. Just as the letter said, he had dropped it. The more ominous bit, however, was the mention of 'your kind'. Could they have meant...

Fath-

This wasn't worth dwelling on. He turned, ignoring the lost bowtie, and began to run back home.

---- 1 Month Later ----

Only minutes ago the curtains had closed and Lyney had bowed to his loyal, loving audience for what had to have been the hundredth time. He still loved it, though by the end of such shows he was too tired to do much else but wander.

A left here, a right there, a magician always finds his way back home. Directions were never a concern. He let his feet take him where they needed to go, trusting his body and his intuition.

Today, they took him to a street with silver homes and intricately designed pavement.

The moment he noticed, he stopped in his tracks.

One month ago, this had been where he had met the person who had given him the letter. The person who had caused countless sleepless nights, spent poring over black ink and stained paper, short dreams filled with flowers and books - les fleurs du mal? - before waking up to start the cycle all over again. They had a certain beauty to them, despite none of their features being visible, something to do with the charm of mystery and the allure of the unknown. The same thing that lead scientists to discoveries and adventures to lands undiscovered had infected him, yet only for this veiled enigma... like a kind virus, one already embedded into the human condition.

Lyney squeezed his palms to bring himself back to reality. He hadn't seen or heard anything about this person after that one night, not even from his siblings, whose quiet nature lead to observances like this. Was he going to let one strange moment control his behavior? No, he decided, and he continued walking.

Making sure to watch the pavement this time, he calmly put his right foot forward, calmly let his clenched palms relax, and calmly walked up the stairs that led to the cafe.

The moment he turned towards the tables, he physically recoiled, jumping back like a wounded dog.

The writer was calmly sitting at a cafe table, steaming drink in hand, large book splayed across the table.

Archons. He knew they had specifically directed him never to talk to them... but he couldn't just let all those night go to waste. He had to get answers. He braced himself and tentatively walked towards the table.

He began to pull out a chair, and the person ignored him. He sat down, and was ignored. He leaned in, still no response. Fine.

"Hello there! It's nice to meet you again."

---

You turned slowly to look at him. Was that the horrible Fatui child? What did he want with you? It was better just to get this over with, you supposed.

You sighed, and asked, "Did you read my letter?"

"Yes. And what a charming letter it was! How kind it was of you to point my bowtie out to me. Really, I just wanted to ask one question..."

"I don't want to hear it," you said with a tone of finality. You didn't care if he sent some Fatui goons after you - you could fight.

"Well, please, just hear me out! I need to know what you meant by... 'your kind'. Don't try to be soft-"

"Fatui." You cut him off. He knew damn well what you meant.

"Um," Clearly uncomfortable, he shifted in his chair, "Well, I appreciate the honesty! But, while I do know that many dislike us, we're a bit misunderstood. See, Father, who runs the House of the Hearth-"

"I said that I didn't want to hear it. Either shut up or scram."

"Is there... Is there, well, some sort reason you're opposed to us?" he asked. It seemed like a genuine question. Focalors, you hated how genuine he seemed.

"Yeah. You killed my mom." Bluntness seemed the best here. If this kid (you refused to call him by whatever his name was, even if you did seem around the same age...) was really somehow blind to the damage the Fatui did, you'd hammer it into his tiny brain.

"Oh..." he set his hands on the table, "I... I'm really sorry... about that."

You sat in silence for a minute. He was trying to figure out what to say. Some sort of excuse, probably.

"You know, I don't agree with all the actions we take. But, you see, I don't really have a choice. Father took me in when me and my siblings had nowhere else to go, so I'm obligated to be loyal and protect my home..."

Yeah. Excuses.

"But, I guess... I know how it feels... to lose a parent..." He chuckled. "I'm not good at this emotional stuff. But I wanna help."

Wait, what?

"I can't do anything that's going to put the Fatui or the House at risk... But I want to help. I want to show you that we're not all bad."

You looked up at him, surprised. Were you sure this man was even in the Fatui? He seemed much too kind. Though, it could always be an act, in order to gather information on potential threats.

Screw it, what did you have to lose?

"Well..." you started, and he looked at you expectantly, "You can start by spotting me for this coffee. I left my Mora at home." He smiled triumphantly.

"I promise, I'll show you!"

---1 Year Later---

You waited, in your veil, on the side of the House where Lyney was having a meeting with his Father. Sure, it was dangerous. But you loved it, and fine, you loved him.

The doors pushed open, and your public-enemy-private-boyfriend stepped out.

"I see you've been spying on enemy territory?" he prompted with a laugh. You nodded, smiling, though it wasn't visible under the fabric.

Once he walked down close enough for you to speak quietly, you whispered, "Like you haven't been doing that since we met."

#fanfic #x reader #writing #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #lyney x y/n #lyney x you #lyney x reader

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johnnycadeirl · 1 year ago

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prolly never gunna finish lol!

The Outsiders (Johnny's perspective)

I am Johnny Cade, a 16 year old greaser. I live in Tulsa Oklahoma, and I have my entire life, I have 2 parents, a mom and a dad. Sometimes I wish I didn't have either and then maybe I could be at peace, I could probably live with my pals, too. Ponyboy, Sodapop, and Darry would probably take me in, or Two-Bit if they could. My friends understand the situation at my house, they've saved me from my folks a handful of times. Two-Bit especially, sometimes I feel like I’d be better off dead, my parents sure would like that.. They probably wouldn’t notice for a while anyway since I haven't been going home as often anymore, and when I do.. They either ignore me or beat on me. I usually sleep at the Curtis house, or I stay with Two-Bit from time to time, when I can’t stay with Two or Pony, I sleep in the lot. I’m sure I would have a place with Dally if he didn’t stay at Bucks all the time. He doesn't have the best relationship with his parents either. His dad couldn’t care less about his whereabouts, and state. And we never hear about his mother, or any relatives that he may be able to stay with. He digs okay, so does the rest of my gang. They’re the closest relationships I’ve had to family. I'm smaller, and younger compared to all of them, well.. Except for ponyboy, at least for the age part. Ponyboy is 14 and he has already lost both of his parents in a car accident. I feel absolutely terrible for their entire family, especially Darry.. He’s only 20 and he has to continue raising his 2 kid brothers, he doesn’t usually have issues with Sodapop, but him and Ponyboy have never really gotten along, which got worse after their parents died. It was rough on the rest of the gang too. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were great people, and they took care of those who didn't have great relationships with their parents.. Me and Dally especially- Dally and Mrs. Curtis were real close, I’m sure their passing was also very hard on him.. Of course, he would NEVER let anyone know that, especially anyone in the gang. He thinks emotions and stuff like that are wastes of time, and he had never done so much as cry in front of any of us. Of course we had seen him angry, he hates the world and almost everything in it. He doesn't seem to hate me though, I’ve never been to sure as to why.. But I love Dally a lot, I love the entire gang a lot. They’re all I’ve got in life, without the gang I have nothing, I AM nothing. I would probably be dead and gone if it weren't for them. Or I’d be in a different state, trying to start a new life, without my parents being there to bug me and hurt me. Maybe there wouldn’t be any “Greasers” or “Socs” there too.. Just people. Normal, plain old people.. Maybe I’d be able to go to church there too.. Me and Ponyboy used to go all the time, we invited Two-Bit, and the rest of the gang once, they caused a pretty dramatic scene.. So we never went again. Ponyboy always talks about living in the country, pretty far 'away from the city.. I don’t think I’d mind the “country life” too much, I’d just need to get used to it for a bit, especially since I’ve never been outside of our neighborhood. Maybe there I’d be considered less stupid. That’s all I’ve ever been called by teachers and my parents. I dunno, maybe I am stupid.. I can really get excited about learning if it’s something I find interesting. Ponyboy has mentioned a book before Gone with the Wind. Maybe in the country Ponyboy would be able to read it to me or something. Ponyboy likes books a lot,

#the outsiders #johnny cade #dallas winston #two bit mathews #steve randle #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis

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lunadorned · 2 years ago

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I’ve been thinking of some theories. These ideas tie in with the concept that the Maasverse explores the same world in different time periods, with ToG being the oldest of the three, followed by ACOTAR and then CC.

(Disclaimer: I’m just playing around with some thoughts. I don’t have the time to back up my thesis with citations at the moment, so the ideas presented are based upon my recollection of reading the books in the past few years. I’m well aware that I’m human and, as such, able to make mistakes, so. Don’t take this as a full-bodied literary analysis, just a simple thought exercise.)

I think that Rhysand is a descendent of Maeve via his father’s lineage. Those violet eyes and dark hair? A monstrous form? Mind reading and thought manipulation? We’ve seen all of these traits in the false faerie queen. And Rhys’s father had a penchant for cruelty—just like Maeve.

Which begs the question, who could have fathered Maeve’s line?

Consider who in ToG was able to step in the space between. Who was able to “winnow” before this skill was called such? We’ve got two candidates and both of them (unfortunately) had relations with Maeve: the wolf twins.

I think Maeve specifically chose the twins because they were rare among their kind and they had magic she did not possess.

Fenrys mentions at one point that even he’s not quite sure how his magic works—it’s a kind of ability without much information, and hence, rare. To Maeve, this would be a coveted skill.

So, okay. One of the twins could have conceivably fathered a child for Maeve. If that’s the case, where’s the kid? Why did no one ever see them? Did Connall have privy to that kind of information?

My theory is that Maeve’s child is the owl with whom she was often seen. Although rumored to be a healer, the bird didn’t exactly have a confirmed backstory. What if, like their wolf father, the child was a shapeshifter? SJM didn’t explicitly state how the shapeshifter gene works. A case could be made that the gene could be passed on without a specific animal being attached to it.

Even if the owl is not Maeve’s offspring hiding in plain sight, there are still plausible theories as to where the child could exist. Maeve could have easily hidden a child in her kingdom and manipulated the minds of caregivers to obscure identity. In this vein, she could also have erased any knowledge of a child’s existence or of her potential pregnancy from the minds of The Cadre, Connall included.

Maeve may also have gotten rid of Connall for this very reason. If she only required a child (perhaps multiple children) from Connall, not true companionship, then he would have at some point fulfilled his purpose. He would have become disposable, especially if Maeve wanted her progeny kept secret. At some point, the kid would likely start asking after their parentage. As a single parent, Maeve would have total control over the child’s life. We know she loves to be a puppeteer; she’d never allow anyone else to pull her kid’s strings. Or, maybe Fenrys is the true father, and Connall figured this out. Either way, Maeve couldn’t risk that knowledge getting out and making her vulnerable.

I already suspected that Connall was manipulated into his own demise, but the theory that it furthered Maeve’s hidden agenda (while also causing Fenrys pain), gives additional weight to the idea.

And when we think about Rhys in connection to Maeve, many puzzle pieces begin to make sense. His mind-bending abilities are unrivaled. He can break a brain with little effort. Rhys was even able to hide an entire city for decades. He shape-shifts into a monstrous form and struggles with this dark side. Sounds like Rhys has a lot in common with his violet-eyed ancestor. And let’s not forget that Rhys, just like the wolf twins, is one of the characters able to winnow in ACOTAR.

Mor, Rhys’s cousin with the same lineage, can also winnow. Yes, there are others in ACOTAR who have the winnowing ability, and that could mean potential mixing of lines for those families. It’s worth exploring.

Updating to add:

Forgot to mention that the word “Daemati” suggests these mind-reading powers are “demonic”. And Maeve was a demon/Valg.

Thanks for reading!

What do you think? Did Maeve have an heir? Multiple heirs? If so, with whom? Is Rhysand Maeve’s descendant?

#throne of glass #tog #maeve #rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #maasverse #acotar spoilers #tog spoilers #throne of glass spoilers #aelin galythinius #throne of glass theories #acotar theory

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devilgate · 9 months ago

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1984: A Year With Gravity

Ministry of Plenty

It’s 2024. It’s 40 years since 1984. So I guess that’s why there have been a lot of things turning up that are related in one way or another to George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four1. It’s considerably more than forty years since the novel was published: more like 75 years. Which is a memorable enough number in itself.

At Worldcon in Glasgow in August, the last panel I went to was about the book. People discussing when they had first read it, how it had affected them, the effects it had on literature and culture more broadly, and so on.

Then a few weeks later the podcast of the BBC Radio 4 programme In Our Time dropped into my feed, with an episode about it. It was described as a ‘summer repeat’. I assume the programme is off the air but they like to keep the feed fed. It was originally broadcast in 2022, so nothing to do with any anniversaries in this year, but no matter.

All of this served to remind me of two things: one, that it was high time I read it again. And two, since read it in my teenage years and never since, I had shamefully never quite read all of it. Because there’s that bit in the middle where Winston is reading ‘The Book’, as it’s called. And when you’re fourteen or fifteen that can seem terribly dull and easily skippable.

Also at the convention2 I picked up a copy of Ken MacLeod’s new collection, A Jura for Julia. You might guess from the title that there’s some sort of connection, what with Julia being the only female character in the original book, and Jura being where Orwell spent the last months of his life writing it.

And indeed, the collection is bookended by two connected stories comprising a sequel to Orwell’s novel.

So I was going to revisit the original and then read Ken’s stories. But I realised I didn’t actually have a copy. I think I read it from the library all those years ago. We got our son a copy at some point, but that’s either with him or in a box in the basement. So I decided just to buy a new one.

While I was in Foyles I noticed another connected work: Julia by Sandra Newman. I remembered reading about this when it came out and thinking I’d like to read it. It’s a retelling of the story of Nineteen Eighty-Four, from Julia’s point of view. It came out last year, so I’m sure author and publisher had anniversaries in mind, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Not Forever

So what about these books, then?

There are two things Ingsoc got right, I mention in passing: going over properly to the metric system — which leads to the oddity of a prole barman who has never even heard of a pint — and going to full use of the twenty-four-hour clock, giving us that famously startling opening line about the clocks striking thirteen.

Not much else, though. It’s a bit odd thinking about it now that the ideology is called ‘English Socialism’ when the geopolitical bloc Airstrip One is part of, Oceania, is clearly dominated by America. The renaming of the UK makes that clear. And indeed, the switch to decimal measurements and twenty-four-hour time are even stranger, given how America in our world is the biggest holdout against those.

I suppose the ‘English’ in ‘Ingsoc’ could mean the language. But a socialism dominated by America? Something that calls itself socialism, at least: it’s no more socialism than Germany’s ‘National Socialism’ was.

I’ve said before that I dislike dystopian fiction as genre or background to stories. I wonder if that dislike was caused in part by early inoculation with this work. But what I found really weird about reading it after all these years is how weirdly cosy it all felt. Maybe it’s just because I knew what happens; maybe because there are these sequels by other hands to consider; or it could be somehow inherent in the writing. But I had no real sense of bleakness, nor even of menace. Strange, really.

It is, of course, a tragedy, among other things. Winston and Julia know that they’ll be caught by the Thought Police and taken to the Ministry of Love eventually; but they believe that, whatever they have to go through, there will be a core of them, deep in their hearts, that will survive, uncorrupted, undefeated. I was reminded of Evey, in Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s V for Vendetta. About how you’ll survive — maybe win — as long as they can never reach that last half inch of you (I write from probably inaccurate memory).

That turns out not to be true for Winston and Julia, as they each betray the other. O’Brien’s assertion that ‘We will empty you out and fill you up with us’ proves true; and the novel closes with Winston loving Big Brother. There is no hope. A boot stamping on a human face.

Except, then we get the appendix. It tells the story of Newspeak, and does so wholly in the past tense, describing plans the party had for the minimal, stripped-down language. How it was expected to limit the capability for thoughtcrime — for thought itself — in the populace forced to use it. But it is presented as if it were an academic work, part of a history of the Big Brother times in what was then called Airstrip One, and is now called Britain again.

Hope in an appendix. I like it.

Keeping it Short

So we come to the first sequel I want to speak of, which is composed of Ken MacLeod’s two short stories. ‘Nineteen Eighty-Nine’ picks up on Winston’s story. He’s taken from the Chestnut Tree café thinking he’s finally going to be killed. But in fact it’s the revolution. Big Brother and the party are overthrown. Winston is to be Minister of Truth in the new government.

And then in ‘A Jura for Julia’ it’s a decade or two later. Julia is a researcher in ‘computational literature’, mechanical writing. She used to be a mechanic who worked on the machines that created cheap novels for the proles. Now she’s an academic studying the technology behind the machines. She travels to Jura because she has heard there is an important link there to the history of the machines. What she finds ties her story and Winston’s together with Orwell’s in a fascinating way.

A Woman’s Perspective

I hadn’t heard of Sandra Newman before Julia, but she’s written several books, and been nominated for various awards. This one is authorised by Orwell’s estate and tells the familiar story from Julia’s perspective, expanding it both in worldbuilding, character, and time.

It’s a much richer story than Orwell’s, in that Julia’s character is dramatically expanded from the original, and we learn a great deal about the society, or the various societies that exist in Airstrip One. It’s all well done, very convincing, and completely in keeping with the original. There’s nothing added that couldn’t have been imagined in Orwell’s time.

Julia the character is not much more than a cipher in the original, and here she has a rich inner life, and is wonderfully and believably changeable.

One chapter opens with the line, ‘She was in Love.’ Which jars you for a second, because the previous chapter ended with her and Winston’s arrest. Till you remember that she refers to the ministries just by their key words: ‘Truth’ for the Ministry of Truth, and so on.

It takes us to a an ending not so very different from MacLeod’s but perhaps a more ambiguous one.

And that’s enough Nineteen Eighty-Four for a while, and enough 1984, too, though it strikes me that the novel I’m writing at the moment is set then. It’s a year that still has a massive gravitational pull on the imagination.

Note that the title is always written in words and properly hyphenated. ↩︎

Strictly I ordered it afterwards, as it was sold out at the con by the time I tried to get it. ↩︎

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for-my-mind-to-run-around-free · 5 months ago

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The rest of the chapter, now officaly done!

“Read it out to me,” Regulus gently requested. Upon seeing James’ questioning brow continued with a verse “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard /Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on.”

James made eye contact with him and continued, “Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, / Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: / Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave”

Regulus swiftly but gently interrupted as James was taking a breath, “Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; / Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,” regulus realised they’d both started grinning at some point in between the verses. He paused, and looked at James.

They kept conversing like this, quoting each other lines from years and years of poetry, or simply going into snappy but friendly banter. They didn’t learn much about each other, except their shared love of poetry and the ability to give back as good as they got. Hours passed without Regulus even noticing, until James’ watch pinged.

ping-ping-ping

three in quick succession and then one last ping, like a cartoon character vomiting bubbles

“oh - right - ok - yes” James seemed to be overcome with a sudden urgency as he muttered out “I’ve gotta go now but it was so nice to meet you. Umm- would you mind checking this copy out for me?”

“right, yes, of course, it is my job” Regulus replied while trying his best to not show his disappointment- what did he even have to be disappointed for anyways? The stranger who ruined his art suddenly departing with no way to contact him- Ah right. ok.

Regulus guided them back upstairs and through the small maze the back of the shop was before taking his place at the back of the counter and grinned.

“Welcome to Cemetery Gates, my name is Regulus. How may I help you today?”

Something lit up in James’ eyes as he replied.

“Oh right. yes. I came to get a book for my son. He is almost 1 years old and seems to be in a phase where he tries to roar at anything that resembles a lion… I was wondering if there was anything that had lions in them that I could read to him?”

Regulus assumed he wasn’t really a father to a one year old, and he was just joining in on the joke but he still took a minute to consider the information over carefully. He wasn’t usually in charge of stocking the infant books, and wasn’t extremely familiar with the inventory but he was sure he could find something interesting. But the thing that took up the most space in his brain, almost stopping him from formulating the coherent thoughts that came before was the fact that James might’ve had a son. James was potentially a father. James’ son, most likely also had a mother as babies tended to have mothers. Regulus didn’t quite understand why this information was really upsetting, but he decided not to ponder over it for much longer. This must’ve been a good decision, since James had started looking at him funny at some point during his now intense prolonged silence.

“Mate, you all good there? I can’t actually get Harry the book now, I was only joking, I really do need to go. I’ll stop by and get it on Sunday.”

“Right, yes, I’m perfectly fine thank you” but Regulus still took the moment he turned away to check the label of the book and get James a complimentary bookmark as a moment to compose his face to a completely neutral expression.

He really wasn’t joking about having a son.

The man he just spent hours potentially flirting with was as straight as he looked and even had a son.

He was just being friendly and as always Regulus found a way to ruin it all in his head.

Still, being friends with James wasn’t such a bad idea as this would increase the number of friends he had from 1 to 2. Pandora always said he needed to make more. As he reasoned his way into keeping in touch with James, his hands did something so impulsive, he was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything this impulsive since the act of leaving home.

He scribbled his number at the very last page of the book with a pencil nearby.

‘0755XX XXXX - if you ever want to try and beat me to a quote or return the jumper, Regulus x.’

He decided that if he took one second to consider what he’d just done, he’d burn the entire volume to its ashes but instead he turned around, slid it across the counter and told James’ his total, who chose to make a very quick contactless payment and promptly dissappear. If Regulus wasn’t too busy thinking about the hands that picked up the volume, he would’ve noticed James almost running out of the store.

He allowed himself to smile one more time before resuming the work he was supposed to be doing.

Let's go where we're happy

you may wish to go to the end of work for authors extensive ramblings.

Chapter 1: Meet not so cute

It was an ordinary day at the shop for Regulus. Stacking books, filing the returns at the back (though Regulus never understood why someone would return a book they purchased anyways, it was one of life’s mysteries) and being forced to paint that damn display in the children’s section between aisles for 10-12s and 8-10s. Truly ordinary, completely undistinguishable Sunday at The Cemetery Gates.

As it quite often did round this time of year, it was pouring out when Regulus squeezed the white on to the punched folder pocket that he decided would be his easel that afternoon. He found a comfortable position where he could reach the clouds. Round brush dipped into the paint and scraped around a little bit before touching the soft wood of the shelves. He pretended to hate Barty for being forced to do this, but it wasn’t so bad when he actually got to work and honestly, he could even admit to enjoying the art and the rest from the stressful customers once he focused.

His mind finally started wandering into the happy place hidden at the very back of his mind, somewhere he could only visit when he felt truly safe and zoned in. He finished the clouds and got started on Cinderella’s apron, while Piglet and Winne the Pooh dried in the other corner.

It was then, when his guards were completely down, out of nowhere, something pointy, freezing cold and soaking wet crashed into him.

Paint water spilled all over.

Regulus found himself crushed between his painting, now leaving an impression of Piglet on his left cheek and the thing that seemed to be a black haired soaking wet creature that stumbled over him.

He tried to shake free out of his position, which must’ve alerted the being that left a dark spot on his shirt, as he suddenly became overly animated, backing away and speaking so fast it was undistinguishable.

Regulus, finally finding space to turn around, faced the mystery. This was quiet unfortunate for him because he realised that the creature responsible for ruining hours of his work happened to be a man with a very smooth face, hazel eyes that felt like the galaxy was hidden in them and jet black hair that was stuck to his face. His slivery black octagonal glasses were so stained with rainwater, regulus wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t see out of them. His features were distinct, could even be called handsome. However, Regulus was not going to be calling the mystery gentleman who he must hate and hold a grudge against for ruining his work anything positive let alone handsome in this century.

Regulus realised the gentleman’s mouth was moving, and he snapped back to reality.

“— I’m really sorry, oh god, I’ve ruined your painting as well and is there any way-” Regulus cut him off as his rambling really started to become more indistinguishable.

“Ehm this is quite alright, I was getting the white to paint over the whole thing anyways” He didn’t know why he lied to him, but oh he was so apologetic and those eyes. No. Focus Regulus.

“Oh but really you’re also damp now, I really didn’t mean to-”

“You are quiet the rambler aren’t you” he scoffed light heartedly, turned around around and started walking towards the employees only area. Why was he doing this? Why was he being kind? He wasn’t a kind person, thank you very much. He certainly wasn’t one to be kind to complete strangers he had every reason to hate.

He turned back after a couple of steps, “Come along then, let me get you something to wear before you catch your death” The nameless gentleman looked up in slight disbelief and started following him. Regulus was still internally stunned at his own behaviour, was his coffee drugged this morning?

They finally reached the employees only area at the back and Regulus lead the stranger inside.

The door with the sign DO NOT ENTER swung open to reveal a small room with an old arm chair that could’ve belonged in the Buckingham palace had it not been so worn down and on the the right there was a faded green sofa that looked like it was straight from a sitcom. The rug on the floor was plush and comfortable, but it was clearly originally not such a dark shade of grey. The entire room had an air about it, nothing felt like it belonged, it was out of time, yet at the same time you couldn’t imagine the room in any other way.

Regulus always loved the come and go room, its what they’d nicknamed the staff area after they realised how many strays were brought here by the employees. You could always find what you needed in the smallish room in a very inexplicable way. Regulus pointed towards the unassuming wardrobe in the corner and sat the stranger down on the green sofa next to it. He pulled out a sweater from the common drawer that he was 97% sure belonged to Barty and another one from his own.

In a moment of impulsiveness, he realised he wanted to see him again.

He passed his own sweater to the gentleman and pointed towards the second door in the room.

“That’s the bathroom, there’s a hairdryer and clean towels in the third drawer down”

He faced Regulus as he said a gentle “thank you” and moved towards the bathroom.

Regulus took of his own apron and jumper and quickly changed into dry clothes before the stranger came back. He heard the faint sound of the hair dryer turn on and after a while turn off.

Not long after the gentleman walked in, wearing the slightly oversized jumper (regulus always swam in it so it really fit him perfectly) and sporting a blow dried hair. It seemed he must’ve helped himself to some of the multitudes of bottles of hair products in front of the mirror because he looked really good. His hair was soft and silky and regulus wanted to touch it .

Wait. what. He absolutely didn’t want to touch a complete strangers hair.

“—he hairdryer is ancient mate, I’m surprised you guys haven’t gotten electrocuted just by its mere existence,” Regulus realised belatedly that the man had come in and started chattering on immediately while he was busy adoring staring noticing the improvement in his hair “and oh by the way my name’s James,” Regulus must’ve forgotten to move his face as the man continued with a small cough and a very unsure face “and you are..?”

Regulus decided to stop staring daggers at him, finally compose himself and respond simply with “My name is Regulus Arcturus. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

James laughed with a smile that reached to his eyes. It made Regulus view his face in an entirely different light. Maybe he wasn’t so mad about him ruining his work.

“You’re posh”

“You’ve used my hair products”

“and you’ve noticed”

“yes. I have noticed.”

“are you mad about it, i really should’ve asked”

Regulus gave a non committal shrug, he really didn’t like strangers touching his belongings, but James wasn’t a stranger now. He was wearing his jumper for gods sake. He realised, he wasn’t actually mad, and there wasn’t his usual viperous tone behind the snappy argument they had started to communicate in.

James asked another question, it seemed he didn’t really care either.

“So, how come you’ve got such a cosy place in a shop called ‘Cemetery Gates’”

“Cemetery gates don’t always open to hell, but sometimes to what one considers to be heaven. Death only exists in the way we perceive it.”

James paused, seemed to consider it for a moment. Regulus, shocked at his honesty, also stopped. The latter was the first to speak this time.

“Your expression to that tells me that your soul hasn’t seen enough poetry, let’s get you some of my personal recommendations.”

“Maybe, just maybe, you’re wrong in your assumptions this time. But. I would still like to lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence with you.”

Regulus’ change in heart rate definitely wasn’t in response to the very handsome stranger that quoted Oscar Wilde seamlessly. No, definitely not. Instead of quipping back another line, Regulus just started walking down the stairs and gestured James to follow.

The adult non-fiction section downstairs was decorated in a much more gothic style with a consuming ocean of darkness greeting anyone who went down, although somehow there was still enough lighting provided by the chandeliers to clearly see the titles scattered around randomly on dark wooden shelves. Regulus was the only person who knew the exact madness in which this section was organised, as he did it himself personally. This wasn’t to say there wasn’t a method to his madness, but it seemed nobody else could figure it out and he never tried to explain himself. He liked the mystery it created, and it didn’t seem to be affecting the sales so no one really minded that much.

As Regulus determinedly walked them towards poetry, they passed by several busts that were resting on the shelves; Athena, Persephone, Aphrodite and Demeter, all looking towards the entrance greeting everyone that passed by.

Finally Regulus came to a stop on another surprisingly soft round blood red carpet that covered about 2 meters across and wide. He sat down and gestured James towards the books that were behind him but in front of James.

“The ones behind me, you are familiar with, I see.”

James looked over, picked a random one up and read the cover.

“So you did recognise Wilde” James indicated

“Of course I did”

“Not so uneducated then am I?”

“The poetry of earth is never dead. But I still feel there is work we must do,” Regulus, without moving an inch from the position he was sitting at, now pointed towards the books that were on the shelf in front of him and behind James “Keats and Yates are all on that shelf, you should pick one out.”

James silently obeyed, but the way he browsed, pick up a book and turned the page was so methodical it would be idiotic of Regulus to even consider James had never touched it before. Regulus was actually pretty sure James had memorised it from cover to cover with the way he handled the volume, finding his way to a specific poem.

Hello world, so, just as promised, here's the first chapter of "Let's go where we're happy", fic title taken from the song Cemetery gates by the smiths. Obligatory, I do not wish to be associated of she-who-must-not-be-named and her horrible acts, this is a fic made out of love for all those who made the marauderers what it is. Thank you all for reading. (Also will be cross-posted to AO3, link here, when it has been.) also this will be extreme slowburn as promised, just this first chapter doesn't quiet give that impression but please do trust the process. (also I might make a chapter 1.5) ok i'm going to shut up now, thank you so much if you've read it this farrrr ahhhh!!!

#let's go where we're happy #regulus black #marauders #modern au #james potter #fanfiction #fanfic #marauders era #marauders harry potter #the marauders #marauders fandom #regulus black x james potter #jegulus #james x regulus #regulus x james #james potter x regulus black

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meetmyothersouls · 3 years ago

Note

💀 surprise me, but not THAT scary please. thank u 🥴💓

Happy first day of Halloween!

I’ve got you babe 🤗 I’m pulling some inspo from the movie Barbarian, and a few others that have a common theme that I’m intrigued by in what I consider “modern horror themes”

Also so sorry, this was supposed to post last night but I fell asleep before I got the chance to post it!

Wrong House

Warnings: slow burn, spooky, flirting, dark themes, adult themes, not proof read.

You pull up to the airbnb that you reserved for yourself a month ago. It’s dark out and also rainy, so you can’t really see the other houses around you and you silently curse yourself for not checking out the area beforehand. Oh well, it’s late and you want to go to bed and get out of these wet clothes that were already drenched from a few minutes of standing in the rain.

You know how these things work, having rented a few air bnbs in the past, however, you never usually do this alone, you’ve usually got a few of your friends or cousins flanking you, keeping you company and easing your anxieties which is exactly what you wish for as you reach in the box that should have contained the key to your rental.

“Fuck,” you say as you pull out your empty hand.

You walk back to your car, mind blank as you think on what to do. It’s too late to call anyone, so you start your car, having come to the conclusion that getting a motel for the night may be your only option.

But a light flipping on in what should be your air bnb grabs your attention. You should turn around, drive to one of the six motels you saw on the way here, but damn it that air bnb is yours! You booked it a month ago, and payed good money for it, so you get out. You march up to the front porch, the rain soaking you all over again, and pound on the door.

“Hello!?” You say as you as you knock against the wood. You hear footsteps thudding through the house, but they aren’t running away or hiding they’re heading toward you. You hear the fast click of the dead bolt unlocking the door followed by the clinking of what sounds like a chain lock.

“Hello?” A man says as he opens the door. He looks tired, like he’d been sleeping before your arrival.

“Uhm hi,” you smile. This is awkward. “Sorry, but I think you’re in the wrong house.”

He rubs one of his eyes and chuckles, but it’s not one of amusement. “What?”

“I rented this airbnb on Vrbo last month, see,” you say pulling out your phone showing him your verification email.

He furrows his brow, takes your phone from you. A long, skinny finger scrolls as the light from your screen illuminates his rather handsome face.

“Listen, I’m not sure what to tell you. I also rented this air bnb about a month ago on Home Away.” He turns motioning further back into the house. “I can grab my phone, show you the receipt.”

He turns around before you answer, but you stop him. “No it’s okay. I’ll go. I passed a few motels on the way over. I’ll call Vrbo in the morning.”

You sigh as you turn around. You kick the water in a puddle as you trudge back to your car. How the fuck can they make this kind of mistake? You’re already stressing over what you’ll say to them on the phone tomorrow when his voice causes you to turn back around.

“Hey, uh, I’m not sure if you’ll get a motel tonight.”

“Why not?” You raise your voice a little as the rain comes down harder.

“There’s some fuckin’ medical convention in town. Everything’s booked.” You run a hand through your hair, and a few fingers catch on some of the tangles. You turn your face up to the sky, it’s requiring a lot of effort to not scream into the night. “Look, the rains picking up. Why don’t you come in, you can call around to some motels, see if they have any vacancies and at least you’ll be out of the rain.”

“Thanks,” you say unlocking your car. “But I think I’ll just call around while I drive.”

“I don’t really like the idea of you driving around at night. Alone. Lots of creeps out here,” he responds quickly. “Come inside where it’s safe.”

You consider his words, and while half of you thinks joining a stranger inside of an air bnb is a terrible idea, the other half of you wants to change your wet clothes and be done with this night, so you grab your bag and walk inside.

——————

After an hour of phone calls, and no vacancies you give up with an exhausted whine. “You were right,” you sigh. “Not one vacancy.”

He’s holding back an I told you so, you can tell, but instead he says “why don’t you stay here. I mean we both paid for this place, there’s no real reason either of us should leave. Stay the night and we’ll call these idiots in the morning.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I don’t even know your name. And staying inside of an air bnb with a stranger doesn’t seem like the smartest idea. How do I know you’re not some creep?”

He holds out a hand, “my names Timothee. Not a creep.” He’s got a nice smile.

You smile back and shake his hand. He’s charming, too, but you’re still wary. This situation is weird and you don’t plan on letting your guard down anytime soon. “Timothee Not a Creep. I’m y/n.”

“So now we’re not strangers,” he says, still holding onto your hand. He lets it go and walks over the the kitchen.

“Technically we are still strangers.”

“Well what do you want to know. I’m an open book. Wine?” He holds up a bottle with a ribbon on it as he speaks from the kitchen.

“No thanks, I don’t drink.”

“Okay then water?”

You hesitate, not wanting to take a drink from him. “Sure.”

Timothee sits the water down on the coffee table in front of you. You stare at it, but don’t pick it up to drink it. Not yet, you think as you decide to feel this dude out. You inspect if from a far, not being too obvious. It looks like, well it looks like just water. But then again you’re not an expert on how spiked drinks look. Nothing is floating in it or swirling.

“It’s safe,” he says, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I didn’t put anything in it,” he chuckles and you can’t tell if he’s offended or genuinely amused.

“Oh no, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You can go get your own, I mean if you want to be sure, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

You decide to take a drink, feeling bad for assuming he’d drug you.

It’s silent. Awkwardly so, as you sit and he smiles at you. You crack one back, feeling stupid.

“You should take the bed,” he says, standing up after a too long period of silence.

“Oh no. No. Truly I’d rather sleep on the couch.”

“Why?” He asks, and it catches you off guard.

Because you took his Airbnb, because the couch is closer to the door for an easy escape if needed, because he’s kind of creepy and intriguing all at the same time. “I have a thing about sleeping on dirty sheets.”

Timothee disappears into the bedroom, returning moments later with arms full of bedding. You hear the washer open and the soft shuffle of blankets and sheets being loaded in. He starts the washer and reappears in the living room.

“Problem solved.” He smiles and it’s cute. “Though we’ll have to stay up until they’re done washing and drying.”

———————

It takes a collective hour for the bedding to completely wash and dry. In that hour you and Timothee talk and get to know each other. You find yourself able to loosen up. You tell Timothee things you’ve told few others and he listens.

He’s a great listener.

You even take a few sips of his wine. You don’t like it but you feel content. Happy.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say holding up your hands. “There’s no way you think I Know What You Did Last Summer is better than Scream. There’s now way!”

“Okay listen! Hear me out!” He stands up and walks around the coffee table to explain. “If you look at it from a filming standpoint you-”

The loud beep from the dryer sounds, interrupting Timothee’s speech.

“Guess that’s you’re sheets.”

“Yeah I guess so.” You check the time on your phone. 12:30am. “Fuck it’s late. We should get to bed anyway.”

“I’ll help you with your sheets,” he says. “Unless that’ll make them dirty again.”

He’s teasing you and you kind of like it. “I’d love your help, you jerk.”

Timothee disappears for a moment and reappears with an arm full of bedding. He jerks his head toward the hallway and you follow him into your new room.

It’s dark and smells faintly of old wood. Kind of like an antique shop. Timothee helps you with the fitted sheet and the pillow cases before heading toward the door.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n. I’m sorry they fucked up your reservation, but I’m kinda glad they did.”

He’s making you feel all fuzzy inside and half of you wants to ask him to stay in the room with you tonight, but you don’t do instead you say, “me, too.”

He smiles a big smile that’s extremely cute, but kind of shy and sad all at the same time.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Timothee.”

————————

You jolt awake and it’s still dark outside.

3:15am.

You’ve only been asleep for a few hours, but the dreams you were having were…strange and you can’t sleep now.

You turn on the lamp on the bedside table and for whatever reason you notice a wallet on the dresser in front of the bed. Curious, you get up and grab it, bringing it back to your bed. It’s old, worn out leathers. Soft after years of use. The corners are tattered and tiny pieces of blue fluff from Timothee’s jean pockets are stuck to it. This makes you smile. You open it up and his New York ID pokes out of the top of one of the pockets. You shouldn’t be going through his stuff, but the Airbnb shouldn’t have made the mistake that they did, and you shouldn’t have drank wine earlier. Lots of things that shouldn’t have happened happened. So you continue to pull it out. You smile immediately at his ID photo. His curly hair looks soft and it sticks out in a variety of directions. You silently curse yourself for not touching it a few hours ago. His smile is that big one he gave you before exiting the bedroom for the night. Goofy and slightly shy. You shake your head, unable to believe that you’re falling for someone you’ve only spent a few hours with and don’t even really know. You move to slide it back in but something catches your eye underneath his photo.

Chills pepper your skin as you read the dates on his drivers license.

DOB: December 27th, 1958.

Issue Date: December 27th, 1985.

What the fuck?

You look at your phone, checking the date incase you’re still fucking dreaming.

October 1st. 2022.

There’s no way this guy is 64 years old. There’s no fucking way. He looks exactly like he did in his ID photo from the 80s!

Immediately, you Google his name.

At first nothing comes up and you almost give up, but page two of Google reveals many articles with Timothee’s name in it.

You click one.

-Suspected Suicide of a young New York male by the name of Timothee proves to be more.

- Suicide or Murder? Young New York local found dead in quiet neighborhood.

-Who killed Timothee? Was it him or was it someone or something more sinister.

You throw your phone as you hear his voice.

“Y/n?”

He sounds far away, like he’s rooms away. But you’re in the only bedroom.

You don’t answer.

And it’s eerily quiet.

“Y/N HELP ME.”

This time it booms through your room and it sounds like it’s coming from under your bed.

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @gatoenlaciudad @patronsaintofthetwinks

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #dark!timothee #Halloween #happy Halloween #Halloween special

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moemoemammon · 4 years ago

Note

may i request hcs for a poly mc?

Poly!MC with the Demon Brothers!

(GN!MC as always✌️)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

He will never get over the fact that he's got to share you with his annoying ass brothers. But as the most patient(?) of the seven, he's learned to compromise

And by 'compromise' I mean literally making a schedule for how much time everyone gets with you, to avoid unnecessary fights. They all get you for an entire day, on a respective day of the week in chronological order. (Lucifer on Sunday, Mammon Monday, etc)

Though... we all know he abuses the system by making excuses like "MC, I need you in my office for a moment. I'd like to discuss your grades." and "Come with me for a moment, MC. I'd like you to explain something to me."

Basically he fools everyone by making it sound like you're in trouble, when he literally just wants to hang out with you some more. Maybe he can convince you that all you really need is him..? Jk he respects your decision even if it eats him alive because why his brothers of all people-

"As much as I don't understand your choice, I've lived with those six long enough to know how to deal with them. That being said... I also know how to keep them at bay. We'll have plenty of time to ourselves, hm?"

Mammon

The only brother that can see through Lucifer's ruse, but he can't say anything about it because... come on, it's Lucifer we're talking about.

But that's not stopping him from arguing about that dumb schedule! Why's he got to wait until MONDAY, which is a SCHOOL DAY, just to hang out with you?? Why does he have to go second when he was your FIRST???

Keeps trying to convince you to skip classes with him so you can sneak away and spend the day together. Nobody's got to know, okay?

The whole once-a-week thing teaches Mammon the importance of time management, so he's making the most of the time he's got when you're all his. He's taking you on all sorts of dates and there's no way he'll take no for an answer, got it??

"Oi! What did I tell ya about makin' those goo goo eyes at Levi, huh?! Only look at ME like that, understand? Just you wait, I'll take ya on a date so great, you'll only be able to think about THE Great Mammon! ....Huh? Y-yeah, I want ya to hold my hand."

Levi

Tuesday has officially become his favorite day, for reasons that have nothing to do with the upcoming Ruri-chan themed maid cafe event going on soon-

Tuesday's actually used to be his raid days, when he’d get online with his rpg buddies and do dungeon runs until dawn. But now? He's sacrificed all of that just so he can take the time to enjoy being with you

He may not know much about traditional dating, but don't underestimate the power of an otaku with centuries of dating sim knowledge under his belt-! He'll show you so much moe, your head will pop!!

Just be patient with him, okay? He's seriously trying to be romantic here, even if the thought of holding your hand is enough to make his palms sweaty. But he's not passing up an entire day filled with MC-! Not even his inferiority complex will get in his way!

"Eheheh... I've spent all night coming up with the perfect plan of action! First! We're going to have a TSL marathon of all your favorite episodes! Second! We'll speedrun that game you wanted to play, because I bought it! Third! We'll make a TSL-themed dinner to enjoy in my room! Then, we- ..Huh? What do you mean there won't be enough time? S-seriously?!"

Satan

Wednesday... well, that's right in the middle of the week, so it gives him plenty of time to carefully plan what he wants to do with you when it's his turn to have you. (He also does everything in his power to ruin Lucifer's dates oop-)

We all know Satan's gonna write a whole ass dating journal filled with all sorts of romantic ideas he wants to try out on you.

It's a literal date planner, and he's got things meticulously scheduled just to ensure he makes the most out of your day. You'll have to tell him that you prefer to go with the flow, or he might get a little overzealous-

But having a chance to settle down and realize that it's alright to relax once in a while is a relief. He can't help but feel annoyed when he sees you with the others, and it makes him want to cram even more of himself into your thoughts, so a breather is definitely needed.

"You know, I've been reading more books of the romance genre lately, and it's been giving me ideas for how to spend my time with you. I know you said I shouldn't take live advice from a novel, but... when I read the stories, I can't help but picture the two of us. Shall we read some of them together?"

Asmo

Thursday?? Why couldn't he have a weekend??? Everyone knows there's nothing fun happening on a Thursday night... That being said, Asmo has to get creative!

He's no stranger to improvised romance, so this boy pulls out all the stops and always delivers?? Somehow???? He can plan the perfect date in under thirty minutes-

And the time away from you makes him realize that he actually has to consider the depth of those dates. He finds he's not satisfied with cheap, devilgrammable dates anymore. He wants substance!

So he's taken to staying home with you, carefully and quietly getting to know you, and sharing himself with you. He loves it best when the date leaves him craving more and thinking of nothing but your smile. He hopes you can say the same, too.

"...Aaand that's how you do a cross stitch! Levi taught me that one, and it's saved my life a dozen times! It was a great idea that we should make matching wallets, huh? I'm just FULL of ideas like that! Go ahead and praise me all you want~!❤️"

Beel

Madame Screams does a discount on their sweets every other Friday, when they rotate their stock. He couldn't be happier! Though, he’d be fine with any day of the week tbh-

That doesn't mean he doesn't value his time with you, though. It being close to the weekend means he gets to stay up late with you, the two of you sneaking into the kitchen at night to smuggle away a mountain of snacks

Or he'll take you out into the mountains for a picnic, hoping the view of the surrounding scenery and your face will curb his appetite.

He couldn't be happier to have you for an entire day. A whole day, where hunger is just an afterthought and all he cares about is making you laugh... It makes him happy. He's starting to love Fridays even more now.

"Are you sure you're not tired? We've been hiking for a while....Here, hop on my back. I don't mind it. It's nice when I get to be close to you like this....Hm? My face is red? I think it's the heat.. maybe."

Belphie

Saturday, huh? Perfect. He preps for the weekend by sleeping as much as possible on Friday, so he can stay up all Saturday with you.

And when night falls? That's when his plan really comes into play. He spends the entire day doing the things you want to do, making sure you're thoroughly worn out so when it's time for bed, he has no problem coaxing you into bed with him.

And he's exhausted at that point so once he wraps his arms around you and falls asleep, there's no escape. The longer you're stuck there, the less time he spends glaring at Lucifer for stealing you on Monday.

But really.. the highlight of it all is the big, goofy grin on your face when he watches you indulge in the things you love. Even if it might not be his cup of tea, he's just happy that you're happy. And if he can keep you away from Lucifer, it's a win win.

"If you keep smiling like that, it'll make it even harder to give you away tomorrow. But you know.. we could just run away for a day or two. We could go camping somewhere, and stare up at the stars all night long. It'll be our secret."

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Text

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone.

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while.

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from.

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea.

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids.

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings.

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons.

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon.

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place.

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body.

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes.

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect.

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot.

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really.

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?”

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.”

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.”

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.”

“And what is?” You asked.

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.”

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.”

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.”

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container.

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.”

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.”

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.”

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?”

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.”

He frowned. “Is that your answer?”

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?”

“Because I like giving back to the community.”

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.”

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.”

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?”

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.”

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.”

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?”

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.”

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?”

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.”

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.”

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment.

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily.

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious.

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.”

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.”

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully.

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive.

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.”

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave?

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all.

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.”

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?”

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin.

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.”

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.”

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?”

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly.

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.”

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?”

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?”

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.”

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.”

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.”

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.”

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like.

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh.

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening.

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you.

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—”

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?”

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable.

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.”

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.”

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded.

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought.

“Turn around for me,” he asked.

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.”

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked.

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat.

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time.

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.”

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.”

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.”

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.”

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.”

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface.

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.”

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.”

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.”

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank.

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?”

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.”

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.”

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you.

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state. “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.”

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his.

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that.

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?”

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways.

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.”

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him.

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.”

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...”

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.”

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.”

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.”

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.”

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.”

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm.

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.”

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat.

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home.

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…”

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?”

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.”

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises.

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum.

You, of course, promptly accepted it.

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked.

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.”

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place.

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”

“And, by the way?”

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST:

@taehyungieskith @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bad boy au #smut #reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #bad boy jungkook #bts au #jungkook au #series #pwp #fluff

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pastafossa · 2 years ago

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I have two questions:

1. Have you ever considered writing a book that you would want to get published?

2. I wonder if you will explore Matt’s blindness in TRT. Like for example at the end of the day Matt did lose his eyesight and maybe sometimes wished he could see Jane. It doesn’t have to be a big thing because Matt has accepted his disability but like a moment when he’s just really wants it. Idk I thought it would cool

1. I’ve thought about it, yes! And I’ve actually got an (unedited) trilogy of vaguely humorous, post-apocalyptic scifi adventure books that’s like... halfway written, and that I’d love to get published. I was actually in the process of working on Book 1 when Covid hit, and then my writer’s group kinda... collapsed, which is when I promptly discovered that as an extrovert, I desperately need interaction to make The Story go. No interaction, no drive (and that’s also why fic works fine). And sometimes I toy with the idea of starting up again, maybe with a new writer’s group. I’m also looking into taking a lot of the original elements of TRT and then self-publishing that (with some changes to get Disney off my back obvs), which would let me keep the fic up, too. Not sure! I definitely have plans to try to get a book published eventually though!

2. Sometimes I’ve thought about it! I may touch on it eventually, though very, very delicately. Like you said, it wouldn’t be big because I really do think Matt’s accepted he’s blind and he doesn’t see it as a bad thing, and it’s really not. I do admittedly think he probably still gets understandably frustrated at how blatantly inaccessible some things still are (ex: i literally walked by a coffee shop that had a printed piece of paper inside the window in small print that said ‘large print or braille menu accessible on request!’ and I was like... ok but a blind/visually impaired person can’t read that???). Cause that’s the truth of it - he is still blind. He’s got a disability that affects his day to day and even if he’s happy the way he is (or that’s how I read him), he still needs his aids. I’ve tried to make that clear in TRT - Jane’s taken up his labeling system with braille, she leaves things in *very* specific places because Matt’s got an organization system he needs, he uses his ear pieces and refreshable braille display. And yeah, as someone who’s disabled myself, I could see him now and then going... ‘I wish I could see just for a second’ when there’s no solution for something - when he’s touching old pictures of his dad, or now and then when he’s with Jane, in the same way I’m sometimes like, ‘I wish I could literally run somewhere without pain, just to feel the wind’. It’s a passing thought usually, but it’s probably there now and then for him. So the thought’s rattling around in my brain, definitely. If the right moment in fic comes I can see touching on it!

#ask response #the red thread #daredevil #on matt's blindness and disability #sure i'm disabled but mine's different than matt's so i try to be aware of that while navigating it in fic #we know based on ep 1 with his brief mention that there *are* things he'd love to see again - the sky in that case #and so i think jane would fall into that category #but we also know he doesn't see his blindness as something there to hinder him based on what he says to foggy when talking about stick #and in some ways he sees her more deeply than anyone else on this planet #he just sees her without vision #he hears her heartbeat and all the other little pieces of her no one else gets to hear #he gets to experience the comfort of her scent at a fundamental level #he gets to feel the way her temperature changes when she's excited or happy to see him or when she sees a kitten #and when he kisses her he can taste *so much* of who she is #he doesn't need sight to know her #and i honestly don't think he'd ever trade his senses for getting his vision back because he's happy the way he is #but there'd probably still be a moment now and then of 'it would be nice if i could see her just for a second'#as for getting published one day I can oooooooooonly hope!#i've got stuff written already that either needs to be finished or edited #but it's hard in original work cause I need that back and forth interaction with other people to get my inspo flowing #i'm definitely hoping to get published one day though and i'd love to make writing a profession #fingers crossed!

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”

“Said I stare at you all the time.”

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”

“Why? You going somewhere?”

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #twd fanfic #twd fic #twd fanfiction #collecting stories imagine

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businesstiramisu · 2 years ago

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Okay I rewrote the post. Thoughts on the last tenth (or so) of Worth the Candle:

[I don't really expect this to be interesting to anyone except me, but i do want to save these for future me, lol]

I found the ttrpg Fel See Incident much more satisfying than the Aerb version. No, not satisfying, it was horrible. But it was exactly what the story had been building it up to be, for 1 million plus words, and that's quite an accomplishment. Whereas the Fel Seed of Aerb.... I think the problem is scope creep? When the stakes get Too High and the antagonists (or protagonists, for that matter) get Too Powerful my brain just gives up and I disengage. Like "sure, whatever, just tell me who wins". Whereas the ttrpg version, and the real world-level drama around it, felt horribly plausible.

I did like "we'll win the second time because, if Joon had gotten a second chance at the game, he would have let the players win." That was a nice bit of narrative reinforcement/article of faith.

I love the Long Stairs. It's almost enough to make me think I should give SCP a more serious look, but I'm still worried the horror will be Too Scary for me. (And don't get me wrong I would hate to play a ttrpg campaign in it... actually, maybe it wouldn't be worse than usual? I could just follow the RDP instructions instead of my usual choice paralysis. well, depends on how often they come up. I probably wouldn't like having to make new characters constantly b/c they keep dying.) But like when Juniper wished they could've stayed in the labyrinth and explored the other cultures living there, I was right there with him.

The final reveal of Uther/Arthur..... hmmm, complicated feelings. On the one hand, ugh! why couldn't he just apologize, and admit to being terrible!! Well, he kinda did later... to Juniper, after they'd spent a long time rebuilding camaraderie and basically giving each other a pass for the horrible shit each considered the other to have done. And that was depressingly realistic. Well, idk that anything in my life compares (fortunately) but the most serious, scary arguments in my life have mostly gone like that.

Juniper and Arthur's ultimate goodbye felt appropriate, even cathartic. Raven and Bethel didn't get anything comparable though. Just Uther brushing them off (or in Ravens case saying "I understand this is hard for you but you've got to suck it up", basically). Which, yeah the world ain't fair. It wasn't justice, though. They didn't get their due like Juniper did.

The final conversation withe the dungeon master was also surprisingly satisfying! I liked it a lot more than when Sophie's World did the same thing. (And I've probably read more books that have the character confront the fact that they're characters in a novel, but that's what came to mind lol).

Maybe b/c it was really funny how the DM told Juniper "you're all characters in a novel I'm writing" and Juniper immediately rejected that explanation as bullshit.

Similarly, the Narrator, as the actual Juniper who was writing WTC

Heaven!Fenn though, felt overly self-indulgent to me. Which is maybe ridiculous, b/c the whole story is an exercise in self-indulgence/self-examination, but i dunno she just didn't work for me

Well, it's pretty hilarious that she was The One Person In Aerb Ever To Go To Heaven, and was always destined to be that one person. Hilarious in a pretty arbitrary way.

Someone in the comments to Ch. 245 or 246 said that "Worth the Candle but Reimer died instead of Arthur" is a great fanfic premise and... i dunno, it would be a massive amount of work, but it's tantalizing to think about. Seems like Aerb would have to be very different with--well, idk, would it be a whole collection of Reimer's characters, since he never seemed as devoted to one of them?-- instead of Uthur Penndraig, but with the themes of putting people on a pedestal, using their tragedies as an excuse to wallow in your own grief and depression and rage, and also the DM presumably having the same goals, I have to wonder how much it would even matter?!

Wow, the void beast was a metaphor for global warming?! kinda kicking myself for not picking up on that. Unless I just forgot about it; this story is really long.

#worth the candle #my own liveblogging #justice for bethel #justice for raven

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hozierandco · 4 years ago

Text

Callum Turner x Reader - The After-Match pt. 2 (SMUT)

A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.

Cal, 10.56 pm: You better be home in 30 minutes or I'm starting the after-match without you

Y/N, 10.57 pm: I'll be there in no time!

A wave of cheers had engulfed the streets: Chelsea had won and it was only the beginning of a long night for the supporters that had assembled from all around, from Trafalgar Square to Greenwich, from Brixton to Hammersmith.

Horns beeping everywhere, pedestrians with beer in their hand and their voices broken.

"Are you joining us, Callum? We're going to the pub to celebrate!"

"Nah, tonight I'm celebrating with Y/N!"

Callum's friends all chuckled while looking at each other "You lucky bastard!", one snickered.

"We're not holding you back then!", another added.

"Have a great night, lads!", Callum said while getting his coat that had been discarded on the hat stand by the door.

"Yeah, you too!"

There was no time to lose. He could not take a cab since he had not booked any and going with his own two feet would take him nearly an hour. He knew that an hour would be way too long and that his body would not be able to cope.

From the moment he had read that Y/N had been cheeky enough not to wear any undergarments, he had felt a bulge flourishing. He had benefitted from the half-time to try and get rid of the tide that was boiling in his boxers, to no avail.

He then decided to take the tube, hoping in his innermost that the next train wouldn't last too long to arrive and that it wouldn't be too crowded. The Northern line usually was not at that time of the night but it was a game night so who knew...

He ran to the Angel train station as his phone indicated that the next train would be there in 10 minutes.

Cal, 11.09 pm: Shit, Y/N, you've got me running... The things I wouldn't do to fuck you...

Cal, 11.12 pm: U there?

But Y/N too was busy running. If the road from Regent's Park to Primrose Hill was a rather short one, she had taken too much time parting from her friends and was now late for Callum's plans.

Y/N, 11.14 pm: It's only your warm-up Cal'

Cal, 11.16 pm: From now on, it's "sir" for you!

Only a few seconds after reading the instruction, Y/N heard her phone writhe again.

Cal, 11.16 pm: If you're not here in ten minutes, I swear things will go very wrong for you!

It was all that Y/N needed to go back to her running although she was aroused at the idea that things could go "very wrong" according to her boyfriend.

She had one last street to walk by. She looked at her phone: 11.23 pm. Why are the London streets so long, she thought...

Finally the door to the Georgian hôtel particulier they shared with three other tenants. 11.25 pm.

She walked in only to notice that Callum was standing under the bare lightbulb in their living room.

"Congratulations for the game!"

"Yeah...", Callum said absent-mindedly. Y/N understood what Callum was doing: he was going through all the possibilities he had to take as much pleasure with her.

In love, Callum was the romantic type with a twist. It did not take him much to change from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde but he always valued Y/N's pleasure over his, always listening to the echoes of her lust. He was a passionate lover beyond the shadow of a doubt.

But that night, Chelsea had won and a deal is a deal.

Callum walked in a painfully slow pace towards Y/N with his large hands behind his back. When he was at her level, he stood in a parallel way behind her back and with one hand started descending on Y/N's dress. He had to check by himself.

Careful as not to touch her genitalia for the time being as he was not willing to surrender now, he grazed her hips and noticed that she had not lied.

"You really didn't wear no panties, huh?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Cal"

Callum clucked his tongue and corrected her while putting his two hands on her shoulders "What did I say? It's "sir" for the misbehaving girls who wear slim dresses with nothing under them"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Sir"

Callum flipped Y/N around so that she was now facing him and ignited a symphony of kisses on her neck, her forehead and finally on her mouth. With each kiss, he went stronger too which Y/N replied by forcing her tongue to meet his.

Callum pulled her even closer and was ready to take her right there on the spot but he had another plans. With the contact of his beige chino trousers over her velvet dress, Y/N could spot the bulge that Callum had tried so hard to hide.

She might have looked a little too much for Callum had to intervene "Since you seem to like what you see, how about you get on your pretty knees and suck me off while you're at it"

"Yes, sir"

Y/N hoped that she would not be the cause for a pond on the floor as she had not anticipated that not wearing underwear could come with such consequences.

She executed herself and got on her knees. Right there, in the living room by the sole light emanating from the lightbulb and with the only sound of the supporters from afar.

She used Callum's legs as a support to get down and nodded at her boyfriend's "Are you okay with that?"

She was eager for the touch she had craved for almost ten days. When Callum had to leave abruptly earlier in the night, she had sensed it as a treason. Surely, he knew what he was doing, not giving her any attention for days and all of a sudden being all smitten.

He knew th ehold he had on her and knew the mess she would become if he started a fire only to let the sparks burning behind him.

Y/N then took Callum's trousers and boxers off in one brief moment, thus revealing the proud length that was finally being acknowledged and addressed.

Without further ado, Y/N stroked the thick column with her right hand, taking care of the two other inhabitants with her other one.

Callum could at last savour the fruit of his team's victory and his patience paying.

He was still standing tall on his two feet and came to the dramatic conclusion that he would soon need a pillar to rest on if he did not wish to fall. And would need one very soon as a matter of fact, considering the speed Y/N had gotten her hands used to. He chose Y/N's hair as a pillar and started running his hands in it.

All in her reactions appeared as though she would follow to the letter his commands. She had hungry plums in place of her eyes that manifested her lust to get more from the interaction. And her mouth was watering in expectation of the forbidden fruit that she would gladly receive. Slight moans slipped through her teeth, echoed by Callum's bestial growl.

Some foam oozed out of the head of his member, which seemed to be the signal Y/N had waited to get her mouth have a taste at it. She lapped up the drops of cum before getting more inside.

"All fucking night, I've been dreaming about this..."

"... And Chelsea winning too, I suppose?" Y/N retorted as she caught her breath back.

"Only close second to this", he assured with a moan on the corner of his lips and his hands directing her mouth to find its way back on where it was aching.

Callum's head tilted back as the petite mort was about to overflow and take him in its wake "Oh! Fuck, Y/N"

Once Callum's cock was empty of its ambrosia, Callum held a hand at Y/N to invite her to stand up and once she stood in front of him, he kissed her. In his kiss, he led the parade towards their bedroom.

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Y/N playfully inquired in a moment of respite that her lover had been generous to offer. In fact, he also needed it as he was still panting from the kissing and the blowjob.

"Ride me", Callum said in a deadpan tone.

"Anything you want, sir!"

Callum had only had the time to pick his boxers from the floor of the living room but had relinquished his trousers over there. He lay all of his tall body on the bed, taking off his shirt in the process.

Still standing by the end of the bed, Y/N got her knees on the extremity of it, moving on all fours heading straight and as soft as a panther to her boyfriend.

She straddled him, pushing her hair to one side of her face. As she could feel the bulge forming again under her pounding groin, she took off her dress, passing the piece of cloth over her head. In a second when she did not have eyes on Callum as the dress was right before her eyes, he fondled the two pomegranates that introduce themselves to him.

He had straightened up and was now in a right angle to the headboard. In a perfect position to let his lips wander right between the two breasts.

"Fuck! You just never stop being gorgeous, do you?"

Y/N rubbed her pelvis against the actor's boxers on the spot where his growing protrusion was.

"Good God, I hope you're enjoying yourself... Teasing me like that..."

Y/N continued pleasuring her cavity as she purred at Callum's words. To help her on her merry-go-round and because he was craving more, he held her by her hips, enabling circles of bliss. He felt as though he was a bull on a rodeo stand, enjoying the view and wandering on her stomach, breasts and neck.

If there was one thing Callum loved above all, it was to see Y/N being satisfied. In their sex life, it translated in him usually being aroused by the simple sight of her coming. He could come too if he saw just how great it was for her.

"You're so bloody hot!", he commented almost breathless "but I really need to feel how wet you've gotten for me"

Y/N removed just enough of his boxers to grasp the tip of his cock which she plunged into her in one swift movement and carried on riding her boyfriend"

Y/N came some minutes later, too glad that she was finally getting all the attention she deserved. When Callum joined her, he let go of Y/N as she seemed exhausting from so much riding. As she lay on the bed, he slid under the sheets, to the level of her waterfall, desperate to have a taste of both fluids.

It was Y/N's turn to pull Callum's hair to show him how she wanted to be pleasured which Callum blindly followed. Shutting his eyes, he could feel the drops filling his mouth.

His tongue found its way through the humid weather. Y/N had always loved her lover's meticulousness when it came to that subject. It was as though he was under a mysterious spell, completely in trance. He was devoted and took all his time to give her all that she deserved.

Y/N wiggled under his moving head, moaning louder and louder by every stroke his tongue was taking.

"Callum!", she cried in the night as the supporters had grown quieter.

This time around, Callum did not correct her as having her come with his Christian name on her lips was worth all the gold in the world.

#callum turner #theseus scamander #callum turner x reader #smut #second part #one shot #though in two parts #never been good with maths #plot what plot #sir kink

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