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atopearth · 8 months

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Norn9: Var Commons Part 8 - Ron Muroboshi Route

Time for the (apparently) trash man?! I love trash though. LMAO when Nanami wondered about why Ron was always so tired when he does nothing, and then contemplates whether his exhaustion is because of old age😂😂 Excuse mee, Nanami!! Hahaha. I like the CG, I mean I guess it helps that Ron not buttoning up all his shirt buttons makes him hot too hahaha. Ron obviously only cares about what everyone's powers are but I can't help but be interested in him. Lmao at Heishi being soft on Ron's laziness just because he reminds him of his little brother that doesn't like to do chores either. I agree with Nanami that Ron is so frustrating to talk to hahaha. But I am also curious about why he stepped in between her and Akito. I guess Ron likes to playfully annoy people and also dig at people's wounds when he can in order to see how they react. Ron is such an ass, it's actually hilarious. Love how bluntly he said he wants Nanami to be his lover so he can use her power because whatever it is, it seems useful. It's funny how even Nanami thinks Kakeru is a nasty guy hahaha. I agree that Kakeru and Koharu really do smile so happily and genuinely with each other though, I think that's the main reason why I love them so much. Even though Ron is dodgy, I do like how he's making Nanami think about whether she's just changed from listening to the orders of her father to listening to the orders of The World instead of actually being able to choose what she wants to do. Setsu bumping into Nanami must have been on purpose..Anyway, I enjoy Ron and Nanami's interactions because Ron says whatever he wants and Nanami is very honest about her dislike towards him haha. HAHAHA, I thought Ron was heating up some hot chocolate or tea or something for Nanami but he was heating up sake for her, this guy lol!

I loved it when Ron just asked Nanami if she wants to run away with him. Man, when Ron pushed Nanami down and even kissed her, like dang, glad she was able to punch him, but at the same time, it was obvious that she was only able to escape from his grasp because he let go. I think it was great when Ron basically said to Nanami, you are not your power. Considering how she's only been used by her father for this power and how she only got on this ship because of this power, it's hard for her to not think that this power is her, but Ron telling her that this power of hers doesn't define the person she is was nice. She's always seen herself as horrible because of the terrible things her powers are capable of after all. I loved it when Nanami held Ron's hand so he would stop going the wrong way but he still ends up trying to walk the wrong way lmao.

It's so funny how everyone goes to Nanami about Ron's behaviour, she's like his new caretaker haha. They're so funny together, I love it. It was so funny when Nanami said she couldn't imagine Ron having friends, and he said they probably hate him, so she responded saying are they really his friends if they hate him? And then Ron was like she's not fond of him but he thinks of Nanami as his lover hahahaha. This guy man. When Heishi said it's rare to see Nanami let out her emotions on someone...I guess that's what I enjoy about their relationship. Nanami usually keeps to herself and hides her feelings and stuff, so having Ron get on her nerves all the time, to the point that she can't hide how she really feels is nice. I love the option of slapping Ron awake, but lmao that he enjoys it and it basically has no effect of him😂 Honestly, it's such a low bar, but Ron remembering Nanami's name and telling her he remembered it was cute, I can totally see how she got caught off guard haha. So Ron actually has a proper reason for wearing sunglasses? One of his eyes is an artificial eye and the other is getting weaker, and he hopes to get another artificial eye but has to fulfil the request of this friend of his before they'll make it for him? I liked how honest their interaction felt in the bed, and it was really cute to see how much Nanami cared for Ron, but dang, he got her to even fall asleep there on his bed in his arms haha! He must have been able to notice how tired she's been.

Ooh okay, I didn't expect things to start moving again. It's saddening that Nanami was forced to use her powers on Mikoto because Ron basically threatened her, but it is quite apparent that just as Nanami wanted to protect Mikoto, she also really wants to protect Ron. Nanami pleading to Ron asking him to not hurt people anymore really broke my heart. She likes him so much she can't bear to see him hurt the people that are precious to her, nor can she bear seeing him as a bad person. Ron stealing Koharu's powers is definitely bad since hers is the strongest offensive power that's basically capable of destroying all of civilisation. Dang, Ron was wild, I didn't expect him to take out his artificial eye and throw it away since he couldn't fulfil his part of killing the espers. Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about the happy ending, mainly because erasing Ron's memories as he wanted may have stopped him from doing "bad stuff" but it also feels like the Ron now is missing something and I can't say I like him as much as I want to anymore. I guess memories really are important to form a person's sense of self huh, because Ron feels very empty, and I just can't think of it as a happy ending even if they're technically living peacefully at this moment in time anyway. Okay that tragic love ending was sad, Nanami killing Ron and herself is terrible. Well, damn, that bad ending was uncomfortable. Seeing Nanami basically live a life like she did back then but instead of following her father's orders, she's now following Ron's just so she won't be abandoned is just sad, and the fact that he uses her like a puppet and makes cruel jokes is just..horrible. I've always wondered why everyone didn't force Ron to do work properly so seeing that addressed in the short story was nice even though everything basically happens as you expect it would haha. HAHAHA, I love how Ron just took Itsuki's request to lie and then just answered Sakuya's request by telling him what he wanted to know without any regards to the fact he accepted Itsuki's request lol. Nanami's request for him to hold her hand was super cute though!

Overall, I definitely liked Ron's route much more than I thought I would. I have to agree with the others that you'll probably want to ditch your self-respect and accept that Ron is trash in order to enjoy it though haha! For me, I've always loved fictional trash men so it was a great ride. Personally, I found Nanami and Ron's interactions the most fun. Nanami never minced her words and Ron never cared enough to feel offended by anything so it was really fun to watch them banter with each other. But what I also really enjoyed with them was how even though Ron never made it seem like he cared, his actions showed otherwise, and the fact that he remembered things about Nanami was very telling of how he felt. I loved how he made her contemplate her choices of following The World, and I also really liked how he felt comfortable with her and even told her about his eyes. It wasn't a healthy relationship and the ending was quite unsatisfying to me but I think the first half more than made up for it. However, Ron definitely does do things that can be uncomfortable in his route whether it be pushing Nanami down, being terrible and manipulative in his bad ends and just all around causing pain for Nanami until the end when she erased his memories so yeah, he's definitely not a guy for everyone. One disappointing thing though is how they didn't bother going into Ron's thoughts or his past much for me to really understand his character and why he felt like he couldn't stop himself from this madness. And I also wanted to feel how much he needed those artificial eyes but because of his attitude most of the time, it was kinda crazy to think that he did all this stuff just for artificial eyes lol. Like it's his reason for doing everything he did throughout all the routes but it was never elaborated on so that sucked especially since he seems chill enough to not care lol. Otherwise, in conclusion, he's trash but I love him, extra points for Tomokazu Sugita being his VA!

#norn9 #norn9 var commons

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daisydoctor13 · 10 months

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Thank you @pers-books for tagging me in this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

181,794

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Holby city mostly, and then a few of other Jemma Regrave characters - I've written a Frankie fic, and a couple of Doctor Who ones with Kate Stewart

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Wrong Side of Fifty Something Old, Something New What lasts forever can't be rushed Hey, Soul Sister Fragments of Eternity

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I did, but haven't in so long but I'm about to reply to them all now. I always thought if someone was taking the time to comment on my fic I should say thank you, but I've felt bad about not writing so haven't gone on to AO3 to comment in like 2 years. But I still get email notifications whenever someone comments and I read the comment and they make me smile

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I genuinely don't think I am capable of writing angsty endings hahaha. I've definitely written angsty fics but they've always ended with some sort of happy note or at least hopeful? I think there's a couple of very short fics in the Fragments of Eternity work that are a bit angtsy but no plot just each of the characters thoughts that aren't the happiest

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Right I'm very much discovering I don't have any memory of what I've written, I think of the ones I've finished the happiest at the end with like a proper conclusion is Wrong Side of Fifty

8. Do you get hate on fic?

I did once get a very long comment on fanfic.net about how completely unrealistic one of my fics was which at the time annoyed me because I'd put a lot of time into researching things but had to rely on a *BIT* of suspension of disbelief from the reader because i KNEW it wasn't completely right (and had said so in the notes, but I wanted to tell the story anyway). But otherwise no, but i think the berena fandom are just all so lovely and supportive and my fics don't particularly break containment and i don't think they're that controversial

9. Do you write smut?

Heavily hinted at smut. None of my fics are more than M rated, because it all starts to get a bit too...anatomical when I try to write more explicit stuff. I leave the smut writing to the experts and thoroughly enjoy reading it instead haha

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't really, but I've written a Berena AU set in another TV show (Hustle) where the characters are all from Holby but the setting and the plots are adapted from Hustle episodes (I still think about it a lot and have a few unposted chapters written and I REALLY want to finish it)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, although I have bounced ideas off people so it feels like they've written parts haha

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Do I need to answer this one? Berena of course

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

All of them haha. I don't have any works that I haven't posted anything at all, but I have a few unfininshed ones on AO3. Something Old Something New i know exactly where it would go and what happens but I know I just absolutely will not write it. Another Roll of the Dice has a few unposted chapters, and I might one day actually finish it for my own satisfaction even if noone reads it

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think that I can get characters voices in the dialogue. Also making the medical parts accurate :P

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can be too wordy, and I can't write good poetic metaphors or similes. I'd like to be able to write those sorts of sentences that just punch people in the feels

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have done it briefly and sort of explained in the prose rather than directly translating. I am not fluent enough to be confident writing in another language and got a little help from friends to make sure it sounded colloquial and was grammatically correct. I wouldn't do large amounts of dialogue though

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Berena, I'd been reading a lot before that though

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is so hard! I think Hey Soul Sister because it's a bit cringey but makes me laugh a lot to read it and I just love Dom stirring things

#fic writing #tag meme

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negative-speedforce · 2 years

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I posted 265 times in 2022

That's 246 more posts than 2021!

72 posts created (27%)

193 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@echo-arctrooper

@ele-millennial-weirdo

@danger-xylophones

@reythemandalor

@memories

I tagged 151 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#thrawn - 60 posts

#thrawn ascendancy - 49 posts

#star wars - 33 posts

#chiss - 31 posts

#ar'alani - 31 posts

#chiss ascendancy - 28 posts

#wutroow - 25 posts

#samakro - 21 posts

#wutrolani - 18 posts

#eli vanto - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#status: screaming and crying and making my roommate very concerned for my well being over a semi-evil fictional lady

My Top Posts in 2022:

Rating Thrawn Characters by How Often They Say 'Fuck':

Thrawn: 1/10. The only F-Bomb he ever dropped was when he got exiled.

Ar'alani: 0/10. Uses minor swears frequently, but never says fuck.

Wutroow: 8/10. Has a mouth like a sailor.

Lakinda: 100000000/10. If there was some kind of Spotify Wrapped thing where you could see the word you said the most, 'fuck' would be in her top 5.

Samakro: 5/10. Rarely uses the f-bomb, but when he does, he means it.

Eli Vanto: 2/10. He probably swears a lot in his head, but rarely ever out loud.

Pryce: 10/10. Says 'fuck' with a proper British accent.

Faro: 6/10. On duty? No. Off duty? Absolutely yes.

Ronan: -500/10. Probably believes it's illegal to swear on TV.

49 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

I really, really hate Christmas. Call me a Grinch, call me a Scrooge, I don’t care. I don’t want to celebrate it, I don’t want my family to drag me to church, I don’t want Mariah Carey screaming in my ears every five seconds, and I don’t want to have to waste hundreds of dollars buying crap that my family will end up thanking my mom for anyway.

Give me back my spooky scary Halloween skeletons any day.

56 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

Rating Thrawn Characters by how much they would like Taylor Swift:

Thrawn: 5/10. He doesn’t get the hype. Eli Vanto: 10/10. Loves Taylor, loves her music, loves her personality. Ezra Bridger: 100000000/10. Annoys Thrawn to death while the Purgil are pulling them through space with terrible Taylor karaoke. Karyn Faro: 100/10. She would be the one to spend the Empire’s entire budget on Taylor Tickets. Vader: 0/10. He’s too grumpy to be a Swiftie. Ronan: -100/10. He hates Taylor Swift, and will be very vocal about that opinion. Palpatine: 3/10. He despises Taylor Swift, but he does like her “villain songs”. Ar’alani: 6/10. Thinks Taylor’s overrated, but she vibes. Samakro: Sober? 1/10. Drunk? 9/10. Thurfian: -5/10. Hates Taylor Swift, but doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to lose any of his political allies that are Swiftie fangirls. Zistalmu: 1/10. Despises everything except “Ready For It..?” Wutroow: 10/10. Her and Karyn would totally dance to “Style” and “Shake It Off” together. Thrass: 7/10. He enjoys Taylor’s music, but he’s not a full-on Swiftie. Ziinda: 4/10. She doesn’t really like Taylor, but understands the appeal. Thalias: 6/10. Liked her at first, but Che’ri blasted Midnights too much when it came out and now she gets annoyed because she’s sick of it. Che’ri: ∞/10. The only one who likes Taylor more than Ezra.

75 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

Y'all have it all wrong, Thrawn's not gay. He just likes to say men's bodies are like pieces of art. It's purely platonic. Especially when he says it about me.

Eli Vanto

82 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The one thing I have to say about the Thrawn fandom is that it's definitely the healthiest fandom I've ever been in. There's a few trolls, but it's nothing like the others I've been involved with.

There's also a remotely low amount of shipping wars. Like you ship Thrawn with Ar'alani? Cool! You're a Thranto freak? Awesome, me too! You ship Ar'alani with Wutroow? Pass the link!

99 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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johnhardinsawyer · 1 year

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Living Mercy

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

8 / 20 / 23 – 12th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 15

Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

Genesis 45:1-15

“Living Mercy”

(Moral Courage and Holy Mystery)

Brothers are supposed to get along – at least that’s what I’ve been told. Brothers are supposed to get along, but they don’t always.

I was in the eleventh grade. My little brother was in the fifth grade. We had just moved to a new town, didn’t know many people, and didn’t have anywhere to go (and no car to go anywhere in, anyway). It was raining outside. Both of our parents were at work. We had one grainy working channel on our ancient TV, we had each other, and we had all day. . . stuck in the house. . . together. We also had access to our dad’s collection of rubber bands, of which my brother availed himself and began to shoot at me with his finger. He was a pretty good shot. I was annoyed, so I went to my room to read a book. I locked the door, but that only gave my brother a chance to knock on it repeatedly and wiggle his fingers underneath until I got mad and chased him around. The final straw came when I needed to use the bathroom and my brother locked me out of the part of the house with the bathrooms. I yelled something like, “Open this door or else!” “Or else what?!?” my brother yelled back. And then I kicked the door – busting it open and leaving a big dent in it. The look of shock on my brother’s face was priceless. He didn’t mess with me after that. In fact, it took some time, but all these years later, my brother and I are pretty much best friends.

In today’s story from the Book of Genesis, we find a story about some brothers. Just in case you’re not familiar with the story of Joseph and his brothers, you might remember that we have spent some time this summer with the stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Abraham has one son, Isaac. Isaac has two sons, Jacob and Esau. And Jacob? Well, Jacob ends up having twelve sons: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin. Out of all of his sons, Jacob loves Joseph the most, so he gives Joseph a colorful robe with sleeves. This special attention goes to Joseph’s head and he starts to annoy his ten older brothers. Eventually, they get fed up with Joseph and they beat him up, throw him in a pit, and sell him to some traveling merchants who are going down to Egypt.

The story of Joseph is long and detailed, but here are the highlights: Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery. But God is mysteriously at work in Joseph’s life, lifting him up from slavery and imprisonment to become second only to the Pharaoh – the king of Egypt. When there is a famine, Joseph uses his God-given administrative skills to avert a crisis in Egypt. There is enough food for everyone and they even have some food left over to sell to foreigners, including Joseph’s hungry brothers who have traveled down to Egypt to find food. Of course, all these years after Joseph was beaten and sold by his brothers, they don’t even recognize their younger brother as this rich and powerful person who has had them arrested and brought before him.

Put yourself in Joseph’s shoes: the people who did you wrong, the people for whom you have been carrying a grudge all these years are right there in front of you. You have the power not just to kick the door in on them, but absolutely destroy them. What do you do? I mean, brothers are supposed to get along, but sometimes they don’t. People are supposed to get along, but sometimes we don’t.

Of course, it might seem old fashioned, or wishful thinking on my part, or maybe even counter-cultural to say that “people are supposed to get along,” because I’m under the impression that there are plenty of people who seem to be okay with not getting along. In a recent article in The Atlantic magazine, called “How America Got Mean,” David Brooks writes that the stories we tell ourselves as to why our culture is “mean,” is that social media, or the rise of despair and hatred, or economic inequality, or social isolation are each to blame. And, yes, each of these has had an effect on us. But, as Brooks writes,

The most important story about why Americans have become sad and alienated and rude, I believe, is also the simplest: We inhabit a society in which people are no longer trained in how to treat others with kindness and consideration. Our society has become one in which people feel licensed to give their selfishness free rein. The story I’m going to tell is about morals. In a healthy society, a web of institutions — families, schools, religious groups, community organizations, and workplaces — helps form people into kind and responsible citizens, the sort of people who show up for one another. We live in a society that’s terrible at moral formation.[1]

Now, before you say, “Duh, John, tell us something we don’t know!” I want to remind you where we are: a little church on a hill – a place that for nearly 275 years has had, as one of its goals, some kind of moral formation. I’m talking about the morals that we find in the ancient words of scripture, in the life and example of Jesus Christ, and in the centuries of moral formation that the historic church has sought to provide. Yes, the church has had an influence on culture, but Brooks is clear that religion – or religious moral teaching – is not always a cure-all for what ails us. As Brooks writes,

. . . the emphasis on morality didn’t produce perfect people. Moral formation doesn’t succeed in making people angels — it tries to make them better than they otherwise might be. Furthermore, we would never want to go back to the training methods that prevailed for so long, rooted in so many thou shall nots and so much shaming, and riddled with so much racism and sexism. Yet a wise accounting should acknowledge that emphasizing moral formation meant focusing on an important question — what is life for? — and teaching people how to bear up under inevitable difficulties. A culture invested in shaping character helped make people resilient by giving them ideals to cling to when times got hard.[2]

Times had been hard for Joseph, and yet he somehow still clung to a Holy and merciful ideal instead of clinging to resentment.

Just so you know, the story of Joseph takes place before the arrival of the 10 Commandments – God’s holy list of “thou shall nots.” And surely there must have been some kind of rule in that day and age – spoken or unspoken – that “thou shall not beat up your own brother, steal his colorful robe, sell him into slavery in Egypt, and go home holding the robe stained with animal blood, telling your father that your younger brother Joseph is dead.”[3] It was wrong what they did to Joseph and he knows this (and, deep down, they know it, too). But somehow, Joseph also knows that it would be wrong for him to destroy his brothers. Somehow, he still has some higher ideals to which he has been clinging ever since that awful act in his past. In the moment, his brothers don’t recognize him and have no idea the rage and fury that this fancy Egyptian-looking person can bring down upon them. If he calls for the guards and if he says the word, his brothers could all be killed. But Joseph chooses mercy and as he reintroduces himself to his brothers, he brings God into the story, as Eugene Peterson translates:

I am Joseph your brother whom you sold into Egypt. But don’t feel badly, don’t blame yourselves for selling me. God was behind it. God sent me here ahead of you to save lives. There has been a famine in the land now for two years; the famine will continue for five more years—neither plowing nor harvesting. God sent me on ahead to pave the way and make sure there was a remnant in the land, to save your lives in an amazing act of deliverance. So you see, it wasn’t you who sent me here but God. He set me in place as a father to Pharaoh, put me in charge of his personal affairs, and made me ruler of all Egypt.[4]

In other words, “It might sound crazy, but God was part of it all – at work for good. Somehow, God made something good out of this awful thing that you did that most people would never forget or forgive. I don’t blame you, though, because God did something amazing – turning this whole awful mess around.”

For the record, this is one of the amazing things that God always seems to be doing – taking some awful mess and turning it around. Time and time again in the Bible, there are so many stories of redemption, and reversal, and even resurrection in which God chooses blessing over cursing, life over death, and mercy over condemnation.

Contrary to what you may have heard, our God is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”[5] This ancient description of God appears multiple times in the Hebrew Bible. And in the New Testament, we see Jesus Christ as the incarnation – the merciful, and gracious, and slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love embodiment of these words.

We see this idea in today’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans. Paul, who is descended from Benjamin, Joseph’s younger brother, writes, “All have been imprisoned in disobedience so that God may be merciful to all.” (Romans 11:32). Or, again, as Eugene Peterson translates,

God makes sure that we all experience what it means to be outside so that he can personally open the door and welcome us back in. Have you ever come on anything quite like this extravagant generosity of God, this deep, deep wisdom? It’s way over our heads. We’ll never figure it out. Is there anyone around who can explain God? Anyone smart enough to tell him what to do? Anyone who has done him such a huge favor that God has to ask his advice? Everything comes from him; Everything happens through him; Everything ends up in him. Always glory! Always praise! Yes. Yes. Yes.[6]

To put it another way, “We all know how it feels to be on the outside, but God – in God’s inexplicable mercy – graciously opens the door and welcomes us in. Why? How? We’ll never figure it out, we’ll never fully deserve it, but God is merciful. . . Yes. Yes. Yes.”

So, what about us? If mercy is one of the calling cards of the God we believe in, what is the church to do? What sort of moral example is God giving us and calling us to emulate. . . to live? If we supposedly live in a society that is terrible at moral formation then what if we began with mercy – living some of the mercy that we have been given?

What sort of moral courage does it take to show mercy in this world? As David Brooks writes,

Look, I understand why people don’t want to get all moralistic in public. Many of those who do are self-righteous prigs, or rank hypocrites. And all of this is only a start. But healthy moral ecologies don’t just happen. They have to be seeded and tended by people who think and talk in moral terms, who try to model and inculcate moral behavior, who understand that we have to build moral communities because on our own, we are all selfish and flawed. Moral formation is best when it’s humble. It means giving people the skills and habits that will help them be considerate to others in the complex situations of life. It means helping people behave in ways that make other people feel included, seen, and respected. That’s very different from how we treat people now—in ways that make them feel sad and lonely, and that make them grow unkind.[7]

In other words, moral formation humbly begins with mercy. For far too long, the message that our culture has received from the not-so-humble loudest voices who call themselves Christian is that the Christian message is not one of mercy. This could not be farther from the truth of who God is, though, and who we are called to be. And, while it may be old-fashioned, or wishful thinking, or countercultural, having moral courage begins with living lives of mercy.

Church, if we are to have any relevance, any impact – and, perhaps, any future – may we be known by the mercy we live, clinging to mercy even when it’s hard, even if we see little to no reward, even if we feel we have nothing to gain. The mercy we offer our enemies, and one another, and even ourselves is an amazing and Holy act of deliverance from the harsh reality of what is to the gracious blessing of what God intends for us and for all the world.

So, friends, give mercy. . . live mercy. And may your mercy – which is really God’s mercy at work in and through you – be a blessing.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

--------

[1] https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2023/09/us-culture-moral-education-formation/674765/.

[2] David Brooks, ibid.

[3] See Genesis 37.

[4] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 73. Genesis 45:4-8.

[5] See Psalm 86:15, Exodus 33:19, Exodus 34:6, Numbers 14:10, Psalm 103:8, Psalm 145:8.

[6] Eugene Peterson, 1556-1557.

[7] David Brooks, ibid.

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sandbees · 3 years

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A few about the Great Seven interacting with Twisted Wonderland characters VIA Yuu. 👀 I only have one word summary; Chaos.

Who would meet the Great Seven first? Obviously the first years (along with Ortho and Grim). They’re Yuu’s best friends after all.

Actually, it was Friday, the last day of the week. And coincidentally, that night would be a special night at the House of Mouse. Ariel and her sisters would be performing that night.

Mickey told Yuu that that they could invite anyone to watch the performance. So Yuu went to get special permission to take their friends along with them.

After kidnapping Ortho After Yuu gathers everyone, they explain that they’re going out to see a special performance at their workplace.

Keep in mind that no one knows exactly what Yuu’s new job was except Grim and Crowley. So naturally everyone was in on it and curious. (Only Grim knows about Yuu meeting the Great Seven though)

Ace: So where do you work at?

Yuu: I work at a club.

Epel: ...As in a strip club or a book club?

Yuu: Wtf Epel? It’s like a club but no alcohol. It’s technically a restaurant but they have live shows and put on a lot of performances so-

Deuce: Oh! That’s cool, we get to see it together!

Yuu: Actually I’m not going to be with you guys. I’m on duty that day so I’ll be waiting tables. But I’ll join during break.

Ace: Really? Bummer.

Ortho: Aw, I wanted to hang out with you too! But it will be fun nonetheless. :D

Yuu tells them to wait downstairs as they go upstairs to get everything ready.

They are low-key nervous, because the House of Mouse isn’t...exactly normal by Twisted Wonderland standards.

Meanwhile, Grim was telling the first years about Yuu’s experiences there.

Grim: You know, the House of Mouse is really popular, I’ve heard about a lot of customers Yuu has met.

Deuce: This job must have been hard...I’m glad Yuu got it though!

Grim: Yeah, they pay them 5,000 madol! Isn’t that great?!

Sebek: 5,000 madol?! That’s a lot more than being a waiter.

Ace: In a week? I mean having a salary of 5,000 is pretty impressive.

Grim: Hehe, it’s actually 5,000 a day.

First Years: WHAT?!

Jack: To be able to pay that much...the owner must be wealthy.

Epel: Yuu lucked out!

When Yuu comes down, the first years are asking a billion questions.

How did you find a job with such a high pay??? Is the work good?? Is your boss nice to you?? Explain everything-

Yuu assured them that their job is just waiting a bunch of tables, and that they’re payed well because the place is very popular.

Anyways, Yuu tells them that they’re going now and leads them upstairs.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the hall of mirrors-?” “It won’t work.”

The group kind of loses their mind as Yuu casually pushes Ace into their mirror, Grim follows behind.

“Come on, or do I have to push you through the mirror like I did with Ace?”

Safe to say is that they go through the mirror and are greeted with a very lavish dressing room.

“Wait woah this isn’t Mickey’s dressing room.”

Yuu finds a note and read it out loud. Apparently Mickey moved the mirror to a new room so they could have privacy. Anything in the room is for their use.

“I’m going to cry. He’s so nICE I DON’T DESERVE THIS-“

Yuu is pretty happy with this arrangement, actually. They also begin to explain the club’s shtick to their friends.

“So this is basically a club for entertainment with live shows and also cartoons on the screen. Oh, and sometimes a cat named Pete tries to sabotage the show so he can kick everyone out and make this his club.” “Isn’t that illegal-“ “Not if there’s no police.”

So anyways Yuu leads them outside and they run into Goofy.

Sebek: Is that-?

Yuu: Hi Goofy, I’m bringing my friends to a table for the show-

Goofy: Yuu! There you are! You’re needed at table 14.

Yuu: What? But my shift hasn’t started-

Goofy: Reservations from Hades himself.

Yuu: Oh shit, ok yeah I’ll be there as soon as possible-

Ortho: Hades? As in the God of the Underworld?

Yuu: Yes, I’ll explain later, more importantly let’s go find you a table.

Ace: I think not telling us you actually met one of the GREAT SEVEN!

Yuu: I did tell you; and you didn’t believe me.

Everyone is vibrating in nervousness and excitement. Especially Ortho. I mean, this is the GREAT SEVEN we’re talking about!

Yuu decides to introduce them to Hades. But surprise surprise, it’s all of the Great Seven!

Yuu’s first year friends are going to pass out from shock. Oof.

With some inquiry, Yuu explains to the Great Seven that the friends they brought were from Twisted Wonderland.

Let’s just say that the First Years got invited to sit at their table. (Sebek is quaking at the idea of sitting with the Witch of Thorns)

So while Yuu leaves to start work (not after taking all of their orders first, of course), the Great Seven begin asking the first years + Grim questions.

The first years are expectantly tense, but they loosen up.

Ursula and Jafar are a little disappointed that no one from their dorm is present, but they seem to easily forget that after Yuu tells them that they know people from their respective dorms anyways.

Yuu also gives them a little more information they found about their respective dorms, so that they don’t feel...left out? (Satisfied is a better word for it)

Ursula pets Grim and Jafar feeds him crackers. Grim does not complain, he’s fine. He becomes more compliant as his tuna arrives.

And some of the other’s thoughts? Well...

The Queen of Hearts almost blew up in anger at Ace and Deuce. They are idiots that do nOT KNOW THE PROPER WAY TO SPEAK TO THEIR SUPERIORS AND THEY HAVE BROKEN AT LEAST 359 RULES ALREADY-

But somehow, the Queen of Hearts warms up to the idiotic duo. She sees them as...annoying children she has to babysit but they’re also really adorable that she can’t stay mad at them forever. Plus, Deuce is trying and Ace has these wonderful card tricks that would make her Jester cry.

So at first, she does not approve, but as the night progresses she does. 8/10 would meet the ADeuce combo again.

Scar and Jack...hm. Well, I don’t think they’d get along of Scar’s sense of morality and justice of the past was brought up. However, the villains all agreed to not bring up their villainous past because they didn’t want to scare away Yuu/make them wary and distrustful of them. Same goes for the first years.

Anyways, Scar is impressed at how buff Jack is. He isn’t surprised though - he expected residents of his dorm to be powerful. Scar lays down some well deserved praise and Jack eats it up with a tail wag. Jack also talks about his dorm and what the dorm represents. Scar’s ego rises 100x and Scar becomes somewhat...egotistical. Well, maybe not like in a “I’m shoving my ego in your face” type of ego but in a “This pleases me and I will treat you kinder” ego.

Basically, Scar opens up a little more to Jack as the night progresses. Like a mentor/student bond.

The Evil Queen and Epel...well, the Evil Queen was quite picky with how Epel was acting. Yes, he had the proper posture but really, he was using the wrong forks to eat that particular kind of food. She expected better from someone who came from her dorm. So she ended up chastising him and scolding him for being “improper”. Like Vil.

She was shocked to say when Epel accidentally snapped back at her, before returning to his more “princely” persona. Ah, so the child had more than meets the eye. She tried a different approach, as in trying to ease Epel into talking to her. Certainly, Epel was much more headstrong and willful than that naive Snow White.

So, the Evil Queen and Epel have a rocky start, but by the end of the show.

Hades and Ortho...well, that’s a combo you never see everyday. But I think Hades would basically adopt Ortho. As in suddenly he gets father vibes from the kid. He’s also particularly interested in his own dorm, and asks Ortho about it. Ortho’s pretty chatty with Hades, and is happy to tell Hades about his dorm! He also asks a few questions himself; which Hades happily obliged to.

...and then it turns into Ortho talking about Idia and how wonderful he is. And Hades is like, “damn, this kid has a wonderful big brother. How come my younger siblings act like shit to me-“

So Hades silently swore to the River of Styx to keep this child safe, and Ortho had a fun time interacting with Hades!

Sebek and Maleficent...well, it could have been worse.

Poor Sebek was tense and tight lipped for most of the night. He really wanted to make a good impression on Malleus’ grandmother. (I don’t think Sebek has met Maleficent yet so-)

Maleficent was patient, however. She knew Fae kind were raised to think of Maleficent as a high authority figure that should be treated with upmost respect. Unlike the other kingdoms; the Valley of Thorns praised Maleficent like a goddess. She didn’t blame Sebek for acting like he was.

So she started with baby steps. Talking about how wonderful it was to meet her grandson’s bodyguard, how Malleus must have grown to be a strong magician, how she wished she had stayed to know more about her grandson.

Actually, the breaking point between the tense atmosphere between the two was Malleus. Sebek opens up a little more as he continues to talk to Maleficent.

At the end of the night, they’ve only talked about Malleus, but Maleficent was content with that. After all, keeping up with what her grandson was doing was more than enough.

By the end of the night, the First Years enjoyed the special performance and their time with the Great Seven. Things went well especially when Yuu came to join during their break.

So when it was time to go, everyone had happily said their goodbyes as they were ready to return.

“Oh, before I forget...Yuu, I have almost completed the portals for the others so do expect one of us to pop in soon.” “Oh, ok!” “...THEY MIGHT VISIT US?!”

Everyone is low key excited to meet again though.

So, the first years go through the mirror and stay at Ramshackle, chatting away at their time at the House of Mouse.

_=_

Yeah, this was a looonngg write, I’m actually going to do the rest of the TW cast in another post. I hope you enjoyed this one! :)

929 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

come over, pt. i

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. this is pwp. smut in the forms of: kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex. use of the pet name shy girl. wc. 6.2k. beta reader. @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life. author note. this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang. while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way. tysm for reading! (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that. You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library. He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room. (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights. You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.)

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas. It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed. One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!" You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks. The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs. You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands. “Stop stealing all my chips.”

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered. (You know better though. Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for.

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips. They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar. (Note to self: thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,” you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows. “I’m just—“ Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades. “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout. You aren’t actually. The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter. It’s just annoying. You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls. It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good. People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail. One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.)

“Pay attention to the movie.” The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time. You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were. Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin. Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him. The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised. You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite. You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful. You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery; he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong. Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,” he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room. Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.” It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight. Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level. It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him. "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest. It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh. Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt. It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up. A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention. It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit.

A part of you wants to run from the room. Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck. It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop. (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook." You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away. Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out. Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests. (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most. Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw. A sigh escapes before you can help it. "Shy girl,” he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not shy,” you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you. "We're watching a movie." You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it.

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips. A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear.

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be. You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation. Term paper due the next morning? He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night. Break something at a house party? He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.” He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's." Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks. So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh. The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not. They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt. So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed. “What’re you—“ The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people. (Okay, not a lot, but enough.) You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you. There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck. They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick. Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day. (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,” he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending. You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality. You hope it doesn’t. Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach. You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he? Of course he did. Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though. Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you. Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet. It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though.

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair. It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of relief. You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots. “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in. It’s his fault, after all.

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed. Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit. You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth. You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists. Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this. Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip. There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands. You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth. A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels. “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue. You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.

You want to be his pretty girl.

"I want you. I need more," you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth. He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked.

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips. When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers. They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease. The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing. (You swear you see stars; you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving. It feels so good to have him between your legs. You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats. Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself. It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?” You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.

“Fuck.” He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy. He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves. “You want a taste? Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs. You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else. Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip. It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy. You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb.

“Please.” You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand. You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing. "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself. It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs. “Open up, ____,” he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full. “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind. If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length. A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives. You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip. Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away. (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?" You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie.

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you. The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion. He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag. Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand. He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch. It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more. For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants. As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.” He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek. You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat. It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now. Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls. When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks. “Is it my turn yet?” You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs. Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.

“Your turn?” The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful. It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed. Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal. “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,” you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose. Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did. It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight. He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared. You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.” Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air. The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter. Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me," you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks. Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,” Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin. You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit. “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement; or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees. You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return. You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable. Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.” Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain. You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes. They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t. It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?” He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric. Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.” It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist. You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core. It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half.

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help. Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion. “Oh my god,” you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in. “You’re so big. I c-can’t—” You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck. A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder. The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness. “You feel so good, Kook.” You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper. “Please, move,” you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you. He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven. When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out. It sounds like that, anyway. With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently; you can practically feel him in your throat. (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier. You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake. They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat.

There’s slick all across your thighs. You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in. It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half. "Harder, p-please." Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes. "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut. Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits. Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used. You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking. The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop. A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?” It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway. (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward. (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.) "Like it so m-much. Feels so good.” You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him.

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length. You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years. You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer: every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much. With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring. "R-right there," you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?” He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops. They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care. The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts. He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered. “Perfect,” he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it. You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more. “So sensitive. Such a shy girl. Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon. He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind. It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves. Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision. Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over. "So big. It's too m-much.” And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed.

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap. When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over.

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit. It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude. It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses.

"Kook—please—come for me.” You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high. You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop. It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared. “Are you okay?” You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours. He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,” he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time. “You’re welcome.” It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for. You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.

“You too.”

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle

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lucy90712 · 3 years

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Being an Olympian (hc)

A/n: I have been watching the olympics recently and it inspired me to write this but I don't know that much about all the sports so sorry if you do any of these and I get things wrong

George:

He is so proud of you that all of your training has allowed you to fulfil your dream of going to the olympics, of course he is sad that he can't watch you compete for the first time but he will be up at whatever time your heats or finals are just to watch you.

Watching you do all the tricks and flips you do as a gymnast he gets scared hoping that you won't fall even though he knows you will be fine because you've done these routines a million times he can't help but worry. Will cheer out loud when you get a really good score and when one of your competitors messes up because he knows that it's good for your competition.

You are in the individual all around final and a few apparatus finals which he watches intently right to the last second. Loved seeing your reaction when you won your medals and of course was so proud of you calling you the second he could to celebrate with you seeing as there wasn't really anyone there for you to enjoy the moment with.

When you come home he picks you up from the airport greeting you with the biggest hug and flowers because he's just that cute. He also love seeing your medals and is surprised by how heavy they are, would definitely call Dream and Sapnap to show them your medals and brag about how cool you are for going to the Olympics.

Dream:

He knows very little about volleyball despite how much you try to explain it but he will suddenly become very interested when you actually make it into the Olympic team and will try his best to learn everything from you before you leave.

Will get up at whatever hour to watch your game and cheers you on as loudly as he can even though you can't hear him and he annoys Sapnap who eventually just decided to join him in watching because it's easier so you have two cheerleaders back home. He often records small parts of the games and puts them on Twitter to tell people to watch and cheer you on as well.

After each game he will call you and either celebrate with you if you won but if you lost or weren't happy with how you performed he would help you look at what to do better for your next match. Of course he's no expert and your coach is there to help with that but hearing some things from him is actually useful sometimes.

In the final he is on the edge of his seat the whole time hands sweating from his anxiousness he is watching you knowing that you are so close to achieving your dream at your first olympics. When you score the final point giving your team gold he jumps up off his seat and runs round the living room he's so excited.

Once your back home he gives you the biggest hug and takes pictures of you with your medal and might post one because he's just so proud. May also steal your medal sometimes just to look at it because he thinks it's so cool.

Sapnap:

He is your biggest supporter and will come to training with you sometimes even though he can't swim anywhere near as fast as you but he will time you to see if you are up to pace which of course you are. When you set a really fast time he will get so excited and will give you a hug even though you are soaking wet.

When your races actually come around he's more nervous than anything because he knows that you have set such high expectations for yourself and he really wants you to meet them. He gets stressed just watching your heats but you make it through with the fastest time which helps him keep calm. Dream would also watch because Sapnap would beg him to even though he probably would anyway but dream has to keep him calm or else Sapnap would bounce off the walls.

By the time your final came around Sapnap almost couldn't watch because she knew that this was your chance to win the medal you have been training so hard for for years. In the last few seconds he was watching through his hands because it was so close between you and the person in the lane next to you but when you touched the side first he sprung up from his position and jumped up and down for ages.

You also do a relay in which your team gets second so you have two medals to bring home. You show him your medals over FaceTime and the smile on his face says everything, he's so proud of you for doing so well after working so hard. While on FaceTime he takes a bunch of screenshots of you with your medals and then he takes more actual pictures when you get home.

Sapnap would definitely brag about it on stream and show people your medals because he's so proud, the chat are also so happy for you because Sapnap had mentioned before just how much you had been training.

Quackity:

Since you do athletics he will come out in runs with you and go to the track with you even though he is always way behind he enjoys watching you run. He has been to all of your previous completions so he’s sad that he can't watch you at the biggest competition of the season but he is supporting from home.

He can't bare to watch you on his own so he will watch your races with your family which creates such a nice atmosphere which even though you can’t see he knows you can feel them supporting you. Is always available to give you a pep talk before you race or after a heat he is there to tell you how well you did. As much as you have an actual coach he is just as good in motivating you and he’s learnt a lot from your actual coach so can give pretty good feedback after each of your runs and isn't afraid to tell you what you could do better.

After you finish second in your heat still qualifying for the final he's so happy but gives you a bit of advice on how you can do better in the actual final which you take on board and use to win the gold medal. The medal ceremony is an emotional moment for him because he can see the huge smile on your face and remembers all the times you've talked about winning even just a bronze and been so excited but seeing you on the top step does make him shed a few tears.

When you come back home he definitely films a video with you called something like racing an Olympic runner where he gets you to show off your skills to his audience who may not have seen you race. He definitely loses the race but he's ok with it because the whole point really was for people to watch you.

Karl:

He is excited to watch you dive at the top level but also a bit scared because he knows that if things don't go right you can get injured and you have only just recovered from an ankle injury you got during training so safe to say he's a bit anxious watching you.

Luckily the synchronised diving is up first when you and your partner are diving together, watching that calms his nerves slightly because he sees you perform so well and only just lose out of the gold medal by 0.5 of a point. Talking with you after the competition also helps because you say that you are feeling on good form and he trusts your knowledge of your ability.

When it comes to your individual event he sets up an alt stream to watch it because he's way to nervous to watch it on his own. A bunch of his friends join a discord call and watch it with him cheering you on along with the chat who were really engrossed in the competition. The reaction when the score for your last dive comes in is ecstatic because there is almost no way anyone could beat you and when the last score came in Karl was jumping around, the chat were going crazy as well as everyone in the discord call. Karl also called you before he ended stream so that one he could talk to you and two thr chat could hear from you.

Does a proper stream when you get back so that the chat can see your medals and ask you questions which was really fun and it’s so cool to hear from people who are now inspired to take up diving because of you.

Wilbur:

He is so proud of you for being able to get to the olympics but because of how strict the lockdown has been in England he is worried about how little you have practiced and trained over the past year but of course he still has faith in you he just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Was also gutted he couldn’t go out there with you especially because it’s your first olympics and he so desperately wanted to support you and be there in person to cheer you on.

Watching you practice and watch videos of your past performances has helped him learn how you actually do the high jump so when you start in the first round he can tell that he didn’t need to worry because you are jumping super well. Setting up a makeshift bar in the living room obviously did some good for you because you were looking really good.

Once you made it to the final 8 is when he got most nervous because all of the others were looking great too and the person who had beat you at some world championships was there doing well too. He had faith in you though because he had watched most of your recent practices and you have been really close to beating your personal best so when of it comes to that he thinks you can do it.

It really did get down to that and you had to try going above your personal best but you did it first attempt so you were celebrating and so was he. That height knocked out a few people leaving only you and one person left fighting for gold. You just kept going somehow even though you’ve never made it to these heights before and then it got to above the Olympic record height which is when he started biting his nails with worry. Your competitor failed all 3 of their attempts and you still had one left and you made it meaning not only had you won the gold medal but you hold the Olympic record.

Is so excited for you to get home because he just wants to give you a hug and tell you how well you did not just over FaceTime. He was there for the second you got off the flight and picked you up to give you the tightest hug he could. You also had a lot of interviews to do which usually aren’t your thing so he helps you get though them with his media experience and now the nation loves you because of how sweet you are in all the interviews you do.

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mamisolohd · 2 years

Text

* MSHD S3 Cast Spoilers * By the looks of it, the filming of season 3 is starting really soon! Maybe next week? Ludwika posted some bts photos and videos of her Ana makeover, the wardrobe and the S3 cast (thanks Ludwika, pls don't stop).

The returning characters are the ones with black border and the new ones with purple. I tried to figure out the names, I think I got most of them correct. What do we think the green markings mean? It's a little confusing that Ludwika doesn't have one. It seems like most of the already known characters are returning. One of Pablo's friends and Jorge are not here, although Manolo is. I'm happy most of them are still here though, Lucía and Romelia, Alma Toca, Laura Villa and Alta ofc. Ferrán is also still here, will he stay the whole season? Who knows. Fernanda is also back, the woman Juan C. met in dance class. Will they be a thing? Speaking of JC, there is a new character named Don Aguilar, could it be JC's and Victor's father? Is he making an appearance? I thought they'd maybe bring Ana's dad since he's been mentioned a couple of times before, but it doesn't seem like it. Is Don Aguilar gonna be really annoying? Probably... There's also this new character called Tupac Gaston? unless I'm seeing it wrong. There are a lot of new faces in the bottom half. I wonder if some of them are gonna work at Konene, or if they are love interests etc. Also I got SO hyped when I saw Florencia Ríos, man I hope she has a bigger role. I really like her, she's great. She very often portrays lgbtq-characters, could she be Elena's proper love interest? *pleeeease* Also also the babies are mentioned twice. The second time they're mentioned it says they're 1,5 years old. Is there gonna be a time jump? Will there be an ep. where they celebrate their birthdays? 😭 I mean in 1x09 Mariana says the girls are 7 months old, then the baptism happens ≈ 2 weeks later so say they're 8 months at the end of s1. Then season 2 goes on for maybe, what, 2-3 months? So the birthdays should be coming up soon... And then for how long is s3 gonna go on in the fiction? And how many episodes will there be? So many questions. (Side note what month were the babies born? I’m thinking maybe at the beginning of the year? Since they were talking about celebrating Christmas together, and they’re soon turning 1. January? Will there also be a Christmas ep? anyways…)

Dalexa also posted a pic of the script. Can't see a lot but it says "La verdad no...", "The truth doesn't..." I think... 🧐 It's so fun they're starting to post these bts things again. I hope they keep it up throughout the filming process :)

#madre solo hay dos #daughter from another mother #mshd #text #text post

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whentommymetalfie · 3 years

Text

Home to you -chapter 8

-Safer-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Alfie tries to not let his possessive streak get in the way of Tommy’s progress. Tommy struggles to stay in bed at night.

Warnings: mental instability, hallucinations, implied/referenced self-hatred, ptsd, panic attacks, disordered eating

Wordcount: 3,7 K

“That’s it, I’m going out looking for him.” Alfie slams his palms down so hard on the table the teacups almost rattle off the edge as he heaves himself from the chair.

“Oh no, you’re not,” Esther says without looking up from the large pot on the stove. “He’s only been gone for half an hour.”

“Thirty-four minutes,” he grumbles. But he sits down again. Fuck, he hates this. It feels like part of him is missing. His left arm has just fucked right off to go stare at trees and now he feels its absence like a phantom limb, only remembering it’s gone when he tries to lift something, or turn and ask ‘hm, what do you say ‘bout a cup of tea, petal?’ only to find it’s gone.

“Give him an hour at least, it’s a nice day out. He’s just enjoying the sunshine.”

“Fine. Absolutely fine with me, that. Why wouldn’t it be? I never said it wasn’t.”

“No of course not, sir. You’re behaving very rationally,” Esther says, tone light and he just knows she’s got that annoying half smile on her face.

Alfie makes it through another five minutes, before he begins an aimless wander around the room. Which in turn leads to Esther gently pointing out that if he doesn’t remove himself from her kitchen soon with that endless pacing, she’s going to have to take drastic measures.

Alfie goes to pace in the living room, for some peace and quiet. Too bad there’s none of that to be fucking found, because the waves that he normally finds so peaceful are rushing through his head like his own blood and the bloody seagulls caw their endless caws as if they’ve got any fucking reason to be miserable. What the hell do they know about misery? Bloody sea rats.

He picks up his binoculars. To look at ships, of course, nothing else. And there is nothing else to be seen, anyway, and no one there to in turn see him see said nothing, so they can’t tell him that he’s being an overly possessive idiot. Lucky, that. Possibly would’ve ended badly, for that hypothetical someone.

He can’t ignore the churning worry, and it makes him absolutely furious at Tommy, at the doctor, at himself, for being the only one in this situation who’s seeing some goddamn sense. Why is it so fucking important for Tommy to ‘do things on his own?’ Hasn’t he done enough of that for a bloody lifetime? Had the whole world resting on his shoulders, didn’t he, and look where that got him. Why can’t he simply continue to rely on Alfie, who’s taken care of him quite expertly so far? Bar the minor slip up here and there, of course, but that’s the sort of thing you have to look past.

He chooses to ignore that taking a short walk each day is hardly on par with running a crime syndicate because fuck it, being self sufficient isn’t what Tommy needs. At least that’s Alfie’s educated opinion. And yeah, he’s possessive. He knows that about himself. But what the hell is so wrong with that? Been a long time since he had something to be possessive about. Fucking forgive him if he guards Tommy like a dog would its first proper meal in ages. He’s entitled to.

The sound of the front door makes him snap out of his thoughts (almost results in a black eye as he jerks in a very undignified manner and nearly takes his good eye out with the end of the binoculars)

He quickly seats himself on the sofa and opens whichever book is closest, trying very hard to look relaxed.

Not a minute later, Tommy comes into the living room, cheeks tinted with a healthy blush and his hair windswept, eyes bright even if they’re lined with dark circles. Fuck, Alfie feels so relieved to see him that he could melt into a fucking puddle on the floor. But outwardly he does his best to portray a moderate and appropriate joy at seeing his beautiful companion safe and sound in his home again, which is still a fair bit, innit. He looks up at Tommy over the edge of his glasses.

“Oh, hello there, treacle. Nice walk, was it?��

Tommy nods and makes his way over to the sofa, cocking his head to see what he’s reading. Thank fuck it’s in Hebrew -hopefully keeping him from noticing the book happens to be upside down.

“Good, that’s good,” Alfie mutters and turns the page, staring at it with great interest. “Did you see anything interesting, then? Why don’t you have a seat and tell me all about it?” He pats his knee and Tommy doesn’t have to be told twice, curling up on his lap and tilting his head to allow Alfie to kiss him.

“You’re fucking freezing. How do you manage?” Alfie mutters against his cold lips, rubbing his arm. Shouldn’t have done that, because soon he’s got Tommy’s icy little paws inside his shirt, which results in a rather undignified yelp. But it’s worth it for the way Tommy smiles. “You little menace,” he mutters and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Read to me,” Tommy yawns and lays his head on his chest.

Alfie puts the book down and reaches for Miss Marple instead.

“Did it feel okay, being out on your own?” he asks Tommy after a chapter, partially to check if he is still awake. Tommy hums, looking quite serene. He braces himself and takes the leap, “Think you’d be ready for another visit from the doctor? ‘s apparently important for these things to be pretty regular.”

He receives another hum in agreement. Truth is, Alfie isn’t sure he is ready. Tommy still hasn’t recovered from the last session, been in a right state for over a week. Though it’s mostly manifested itself at night. Talking to himself and his ghosts, wandering through the hallways until Alfie finds him and puts him back to bed. But perhaps things have to get worse before they get better. Adelman told him as much, on the phone. Spoke about re-opening old wounds to make them heal properly and yes it’s natural that he’s a bit rattled, nothing to be concerned about. Alfie is, regardless. But if they’re doing this thing, might as well do it fucking properly. No point otherwise, is there.

“Because I thought we might give him a call, then, the doctor,” he says. “Schedule an appointment later this week.”

“Tomorrow,,” Tommy says.

“Tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll ask him.”

Alfie adjusts the glasses on his nose and resumes the book.

…

That evening, with the appointment confirmed and doctor Adelman scheduled to arrive early in the afternoon, Tommy is quiet and subdued, picking at his food and barely saying a word. Alfie sets out to distract him the moment he finally gets him in to bed, and despite his somber mood, he’s eager and responsive when Alfie kisses him, nestling closer and wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, skin warm from his bath and hair curling into ringlets. Alfie wants to devour him.

“I’ll give you something nicer to think about,” he tells him between kisses. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

He makes good on that promise, making Tommy squirm and whimper and come so hard his entire body shakes with it. Afterwards he’s pliant and sleepy eyed, but Alfie ignores his own drooping eyelids and picks up their book to read and read and read until he eventually falls asleep. And when he inevitably wakes alone in the pitch black night, he dutifully climbs out of bed to fetch Tommy from his wanderings through the dark corridors. Like one of his ghosts, he looks, a pale little figure in all white, and he coaxes him back towards the bedroom, reassuring him all the way that no, no sweetheart the crow isn’t pecking at the window wanting to be let back in, that’s just a branch, and the ocean can’t crash through the windows, it’s far away, do you want to have a look? No, back to bed, then? Yeah, come here, love-

Eventually Tommy is safe and sound in bed again. But neither of them get much sleep that night.

….

“Sir, if you’re going to spend this much time in the kitchen, at least make yourself useful,” Esther says and sets down a bowl of apples on the table. “And spare my poor floorboards your pacing.”

Alfie doesn’t point out that it’s in fact his floorboards and he’ll pace over them as much as he goddamn likes, thank you very much. Instead he just grunts and sits down.

He’s once again banned (or encouraged to leave for Tommy’s sense of self sufficiency, same fucking thing) from the living room, as Tommy has his session with doctor Adelman. At first he tried sitting in the study instead, thought about calling to pester Ollie about something, but it felt altogether too far away from the living room and would further sour his mood, and so he’s taken refuge in the kitchen with Esther instead. Her company at least serves as distraction. And even if her calm steadiness is mildly infuriating when it contrasts with his own frazzled nerves, it’s conflictingly just as soothing.

He mutters as he snatches the knife from the table but doesn’t mind the work, not really. Good to keep his hands busy. He trusts Adelman, not only is he a kind and compassionate soul but the fucking best doctor in London. He wouldn’t let anyone else over his threshold. And Tommy’s got his blanket and the chestnut and Adelman isn’t going to let anything happen to him. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fucking fine.

“He’ll fetch you if something is wrong, Sir,” Esther says as if she can read his mind.

“Who? Adelman? Yeah, sure, sure he will. Why would something be wrong? I’m sure it’s all going wonderfully,” Alfie mutters and chops an apple aggressively.

“Try to keep your fingers attached, Sir. The doctor is here to see Tommy, not sew any of your extremities back.”

Alfie ignores her and chops the next one with similar energy.

When steps approach, he nearly does take his thumb off, getting out of his chair so quickly it topples over. Adelman looks perfectly calm as he enters.

“Everything is alright,” he says, clearly noting the state of Alfie’s nerves. “We’re done for the day. Tommy did very well, but he’s quite tired now.”

“Disappear into his own head again, did he?”

“He had some strong reactions, but nothing quite as bad as last time. But naturally he’s in need of rest now.

“I’ll go check on him,” Esther says and disappears, leaving the two of them.

Alfie offers tea, and this time Adelman accepts, seating himself by the table.

“He doesn’t sleep well. It’s worse, since we started this,” Alfie tells him over his own cup. “Holds up alright during the day, but fucking hell, I haven’t been able to keep him in bed a single full night. And I know that you said it’s to be expected, that he might struggle, but if this continues… ”

He lets the sentence hang unfinished in the air and Adelman nods slowly, taking a careful sip of his tea.

“He’s experienced a great deal of trauma,” he says, setting the cup down so gently it barely makes a sound against the saucer. “And kept much, if not all of it, hidden. He’s learned that being vulnerable means no longer being useful, and no longer being useful means you can be discarded. Or at the very least that is how he perceives this very unfortunate situation with his family.”

“Told you about the suggestion with the fucking asylum, then?”

“I asked about his family. He told me. Though I believe it was to make me stop asking. He’s very reluctant to speak about them.”

Alfie opens his mouth but Adelman holds a hand up.

“We should refrain from discussing it too much,” he says. “However it would be useful to know, does he ever speak to you about them?

“No. Well, sometimes I can make out from context that he is. Talking about them, right. Or to them. Who knows. Mostly shit about being sorry. He’s so fuckin’ sorry all the time, for everything where they’re concerned. Where many things are concerned, I s’pose.”

Adelman nods his thoughtful nod again.

“Accepting help is already progress. I suggest we remain optimistic,” he says with a small smile and looks so genuinely friendly that Alfie is reminded why he picked him of all people to trust with this delicate matter. He winks over the edge of the teacup. “And possibly incorporate a few more naps in the daily schedule.”

…

Tommy is missing.

Maybe it’s the lack of a body pressed against his, the sound of his breaths, or his very scent that wakes Alfie up. It doesn’t really matter. The point still stands: Tommy isn’t in bed anymore. It’s become such a routine to wake in the middle of the night that it only takes a moment or two for Alfie to assess the situation, without fully waking up. He climbs out of bed, stretches stiff limbs and limps towards the door. Turns and fishes Tommy’s blanket up from the bed before venturing into the hallway, dark as always. No sign of Tommy there, so he moves forward.

“You don’t know- tried to- didn’t mean-“ Tommy’s voice comes from the living room.

Fuck, one of those bloody nights, then… Alfie’s heart sinks. He can only hear fractions of Tommy’s conversation, it’s quiet and not very coherent.

“I can’t- not anymore- I-”

Tommy is pacing to and fro before the glass doors, fingers raking against his skull, thankfully with the soft pads instead of his nails. Small fuckin’ mercies, right?

“Nothing there, nothing at all…”

“Tommy, sweetheart,” Alfie says firmly and keeps his distance, awaiting his reaction to judge it. It’s bad tonight, Tommy doesn’t acknowledge him, he simply keeps pacing, muttering to himself. A rail thin silhouette against the blue light of the moon outside. Alfie goes up to him and grabs him by the arms, holding him still. Tommy doesn’t fight. Stiffens in his grip and looks up. A moment that lasts an eternity passes before recognition seeps into his gaze and Alfie breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers. Alfie scrubs his hands over his face.

“You know, just because you haven’t apologized for a single thing in your life up until this recent development, doesn’t mean you have to squeeze in a lifetime’s worth of apologies now. The hell are you apologizing for? Not being able to sleep? I’d be a fucking arse if I was cross ‘bout a thing like that-“

He ignores that he was in fact annoyed not a minute ago. And Tommy just looks heartbreakingly confused at the long string of words. Alfie tucks against his chest in a tight hug.

“Never mind. Never fuckin’ mind.”

He doesn’t say anything else until he’s got Tommy into bed again

“Think you could talk a little about why you’re wanderin’ around so much?” he yawns, feeling sleep pull at him now when he’s got Tommy here in his arms again, safe and sound. “Got anything to do with the doctor?”

Tommy only burrows deeper into his chest and he leaves it be. No point in asking questions on a night like this, is there? Instead he picks the book up and does his level best to keep his eyes open and read until Tommy falls asleep.

When it happens the second time, he’s just barely dozed off, only to find Tommy missing again. Alfie rips the duvet away and stomps off to find Tommy once again pacing the length of the living room.

“Alright, that’s it!” he knocks his elbow into the light switch and blinks with bleary eyes. “Why the hell are you up? Hm? What’s the doctor tellin’ you that’s making you so fucking upset?”

Tommy doesn’t react to the light flooding the room, nor Alfie’s questions. Just keeps pacing He’s scratched at his arms this time, red lines crisscrossing the pale flesh.

Alfie is rather fucking tempted to simply go back to bed, pull the blankets up over his head and ignore this. Because fuck, he’s tired. His words from earlier ring in his head like a mockery. True, aren’t they? He’s a fucking arse for being pissed at Tommy for not being able to sleep.

“Fuck, maybe we should fuckin’ stop,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Call this whole thing off. If this is all that happens. Maybe it’s not worth it, eh?”

Instead of responding, Tommy stares past his shoulder, eyes unnaturally wide in their sockets, the blue that lines them making them look sunken. As always it makes his old heart fucking ache.

Alfie takes him by the shoulders and leads him towards the kitchen, where Tommy allows him to sit him down on a chair as he begins heating water for tea. And the water bottle. He’ll have to bring out the heavy artillery tonight.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that,” he grunts and pulls Tommy’s hand away from his arms. Doesn’t help much. Seconds later his fingers are back to raking down the already marred skin and he gives up, focusing on getting the task done instead. Soon he’s filled the hot water bottle and after screwing the lid on tightly, he hands it to Tommy.

“Focus your attention on that instead, yeah?”

And as he makes tea, at least Tommy does just that, holds the water bottle tightly against his stomach and picks at the soft rubber. Still doesn’t say a word. And it’s eerie, that it is. Happened before, many times, but it’s just as unnerving, still. Because Alfie fears that maybe this time he won’t come back. That maybe this time it’s permanent. No matter how many times it happens, he can’t shake that fear.

Once the tea is finished, Alfie pours both a bit of milk and a splash of cold water into Tommy’s cup to make the temperature bearable, and seats himself close to his side, gently putting the cup to his lips.

“Here, treacle, drink some of this.” He nudges at his lips and just when he’s about to give up Tommy takes a sip.

“There you go, love, very good. Not an ill in the world some tea can’t cure. One of my firmly held beliefs, that. Yeah.” He helps Tommy drink all of the tea. And when the cup is empty, Tommy finally blinks, dazed, and looks at his chest rather than staring off into space.

“I’m sorry.”

Alfie sighs. “I know, love. But you don’t owe me any apologies.”

Tommy’s forehead drops against Alfie’s chest and he nestles closer, crawling up onto his lap when Alfie wraps his arms around him. Alfie rocks him slowly back and forth. And he knows that if it came to it, he’d do this every fucking night for the rest of his life.

He carries Tommy back to bed, and when they’re both tangled up under the covers, Tommy whispers into his chest, “What if it doesn’t help?”

Alfie strokes his hair.

“What if what doesn’t help, petal?”

“Talking to the doctor. What if I can’t say the right things?”

“It’s not up to you, saying the right things. It‘s up to him asking the right questions.”

Tommy is quiet as he seems to contemplate this, and he just keeps rhythmically combing his fingers through his hair. He wants to say something else, Alfie can feel the unspoken words hang between them, and swallows the urge to draw them out.

“What if nothing helps?” he finally says, voice barely carrying the heavy words.

“Then we… Continue staying in bed far too long in the morning,” Alfie begins, tightening his hold on Tommy and holding him there, just there. “I coax you into eating breakfast and read you stories about squirrel infestations in Regent’s park. We go on walks and look at the horses. Solve the crosswords. I read you more of those old lady detective stories while you sleep on my lap. And one day I’ll buy you that stable. And we’ll go there and I’ll watch you ride. Bring you home and put you into a hot bath before taking you to bed. And on Esther’s days off we’ll fuck on the kitchen counter.”

It’s dark in the bedroom, but he thinks Tommy’s expression has smoothed somewhat. And he allows himself to be engulfed by the picture. The future. Because he does intend to give Tommy all that and more. He kisses his forehead.

“We continue just living, bothering no one but the seagulls and possibly Esther. Even if nothing changes. Even if the ghosts are still here from time to time.”

“You can’t do this forever. You’ll get tired of me,” Tommy accuses, clenching his fingers into Alfie’s shirt. He tugs lightly at his hair to make him look up, steadily meeting his weary gaze.

“I know I can deny it to my dying breath, and you still won’t believe me. That’s okay. But you just wait and see, I’ll prove you wrong yet, love.”

“I can’t… I can’t give you anything.”

He sighs and allows Tommy to go back into his hiding place. Moves to run his hand down his back. Firm strokes up and down all those bumps and ridges. Staying longer on the spots he needs to; The planes of his shoulder blades and right where they dip sharply into valleys below.

“You’ve already given me plenty. You’re here aren’t you? Sleeping in my arms. Lookin’ at me with those blue eyes of yours and letting me kiss you. Listening to me go on and on about everything and nothing. Fuckin’… breathing the same air and just existing here. I could keep going-“ He could, couldn’t he? Fucking sentimental fool he’s become. “But you need to sleep. Point is, that’s enough. Fuck, that’s more than enough. You don’t have to fuckin’ give me anything else. Contrary to what the world’s made you believe. You hear me?”

Tommy digs his nose into the crook of his neck. Alfie shakes him a little.

“Oi, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispers, eventually. “I hear you.”

#Tommy Shelby #alfie solomons #tommy x alfie #peaky blinders fanficti #breathe again verse #home to you #ptsd tw #hallucinations tw #disordered eating tw

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Kurama~Dramatic END~

Warning!!! Sexual content below because.....Yes! You guessed it right! Kurama just needs a reason to touch her,

Chapter 26

--------Part 1--------

A few days after Kurama's declaration to learn how to be romantic....

Kurama: "So this hot springs, huh?"

Yoshino(blushing): "Kurama! Your wings! Cover your wings!"

Kurama: "It's alright, no one's here."

Kurama, stretching his wings comfortably in the warm water, says back to me.

(I never thought I'd end up in hot springs with Kurama.)

I hid my body with a body towel in the murky white water.

Then I started thinking about what happened earlier today.

------FLASHBACK-----

Yoichi: "Huh? You wanna be romantic?"

Kurama: "Yeah. What exactly do you do when you fall in love?"

Kurama asks a sudden question as soon as he enters Yoichi-san's room.

Yoichi: "Hmm...it depends on each individual."

(That's right.)

Kurama: "Give me a proper answer or die."

Yoichi: "Scary~"

Yoshino: "Kurama! Don't threaten people..."

Yoichi: "Hehe...It's really unbelievable to see Kurama asking for others' opinions. I don't know what kind of sorcery is this. But don't worry, I'll give you some tips and tricks."

(You're so reliable!)

Kurama: "Then spit it out."

Yoshino: "Kurama!"

Yoichi: "Relax Yoshino. I'm used to it."

Waving his hand in a relaxed expression, Yoichi-san continued to speak.

Yoichi: "How about a short trip? You had a hard time on the battlefield, right? A short trip will help you guys stretch your wings and relax. Start from there."

Kurama: "Is that how all relationships start?"

Hehe....Kurama's cold stare is incredibly cute. Even Yoichi-san is giggling.

Kurama: "I don't see how being in a different place is going to change anything."

Yoichi: "You are a very unemotional person, Kurama. You see, when you fall in love, you'll feel the world around you changing. You'll start feeling different and sometimes end up doing things you don’t usually do."

Yoshino: "....I think I understand what you mean."

Kurama: "You do?"

Yoichi-san nods in agreement as Kurama watched us cluelessly.

Yoichi: "You'll get to know each other better if you go to a hot spring. I know a nice hot spring that you can go to on a day trip. I hope that will help."

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

Kurama: "But I don't see what's the point of bathing in hot springs. If all you want to do is soak in water, then we can do it in an ordinary river too, right?"

Yoshino: "Wow! Your feathers are falling off..."

He stood up and flapped his wings, sending a huge splash from his black wings.

(Speaking of bathing in a river, when I met Kurama again in Kamakura....he was bathing in a river.)

The memories of that time are vivid in my mind.

------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What an ‘unpleasant surprise. Who gave you the permission to be in my sight?”

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(I thought you were going to kill me that time....)

Same as that time, I looked away from Kurama's admiringly well-formed body as much as possible....

Kurama: "Why are you spacing out?"

Yoshino: "....!?"

He grabs me by the arm and pulls me up, exposing my body under the sunlight.

Yoshino(blushing): "....What are you doing?"

Kurama: "I don't want to go on like this. You have to teach me how to enjoy the hot springs."

Kurama said, paying no attention to my embarrassment.

(Come on now....!)

(It's no use trying to teach Kurama about the concept of ‘shame’. If this happens...)

Yoshino(blushing): "Soak your shoulders for now."

Kurama: "Like this."

Holding me in his arms, Kurama dips into the hot water...

(Good. Now my body is hidden.)

Yoshino(blushing): "Now keep counting slowly till 100."

Kurama: "That's too much."

Yoshino(blushing): "You have to soak slowly to get warm to the core."

Kurama: "All right."

Surprisingly straightforward in his reply, Kurama hugged me from behind.

(!!!!)

Yoshino(blushing): "W-What is this position?"

Kurama: "You didn't specify how to sit while taking a dip."

I tried to resist, but he held me tightly and his hot breath hit the nape of my neck, making me lose my strength.

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

------Part 2-------

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

Kurama’s voice contained a horrifying and dangerous sweetness.

Kurama: “1..2..3....”

(Ah..)

One of Kurama’s free hands slides over my skin under the hot water.

Yoshino(blushing): "...What...are you...?”

Kurama: “What’s wrong?”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm..mm....”

(His hands are going in all directions...not good...)

I felt a sweet numbness at the touch of his hand crawling across my breasts.

Kurama: “I’ll continue. 4..5..6....”

Yoshino(blushing): “Haa....ahh....wai..ahh...”

My skin was softened by the hot water and his fingers played with my pink nipples casually.

Kurama: “7..8..9...”

(No....more....)

Yoshino(blushing): “D-Don’t...do...in...outside like...ahhh....”

Kurama: “10.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...”

Suddenly a finger moves down between my legs out of nowhere and my body jumped.

Yoshino(blushing): “Nnn....ah....”

Kurama: “I see. The warmed body responds better. Plus...you don’t have anything to cover. So I can touch you as much as I like.”

Yoshino(blushing): “This...is not...have you enjoy the hot springs....”

(I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing....)

Kurama: “Keep enduring it, till I reach 100.”

Our tightly pressed bodies and his lips on my neck make me go crazy.

Yoshino(blushing): “Mm...hot....”

Kurama: “Do want me to stop? Tell me if you want to get out of water.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...too bright....”

Kurama: “You’re so selfish.”

(I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT ESPECIALLY FROM KURAMA!!!!!)

Kurama: “Yoshino, it’s annoying. You count from where I stopped.”

(Sure! I’ll count quickly and get out of this humiliation...)

Yoshino(blushing): “11-12-13-14-15-ahhh.....”

Kurama(evil smile): “Count properly, or you’ll have to start from the beginning.”

I trembled as I felt his hot tongue over my earlobe.

Yoshino(blushing): “Because....Kurama gets in the...way....Mmm....”

Kurama(evil smile): “I’m just enjoying the hot spring...or more accurately, I’m enjoying soaking in the hot springs with you.”

(...This is terrible....can’t count...like this...)

Kurama: “Keep counting.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm...14...”

I reflexively obeyed his orders which were given in a low voice.

Kurama lifted one end of his lips when he saw that....

.................

(I’m totally flushed....)

Kurama: “I had a nice bath for the first time in a long time. I completely understood the benefits of hot springs.”

As we walk through the flowery field near the hot springs, I glared at Kurama with my red cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Oh yeah...

2. I couldn’t enjoy it..(+4/+4)

3. Good for you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino(blushing): “Too bad, I couldn’t enjoy it....”

Kurama: “Stop complaining. I treated you well enough. You were so exhausted, that I had to carry you all the way to my room. Be grateful.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Yeah. And WHO made me tired?”

Kurama: “It was me.”

It was so refreshing to hear someone saying that without taking any offense.

(At the end of the day, I couldn’t fight back because of his straightforwardness.)

Kurama: “I heard that the cold weather makes humans sick. Let’s go back now.”

When Kurama takes my hand....

Yoshino: “Hm?’

Kurama: “....?”

(I wonder if that person crouching in front of the bushes is a visitor of the hot springs too.)

(But he looks familiar...)

Kurama: “....! That’s!”

Ibuki: “Hm?”

Yoshino: “Ibuki!”

(No way!?)

When he turned to look at me, all at once blood drained from my face and I backed away.

Kurama: “-----Why are you still alive? Well, who cares? Let’s continue from where we left off, Ibuki.”

Kurama looked at Ibuki with an icy cold look.

Ibuki: “Shut up, Kurama. You’ll wake the kitten.”

(Hm, kitten?)

Kurama: “...........”

Kurama obediently kept quiet and looked at Ibuki’s hands with a disinterested face.

A white fluffy kitten was sleeping comfortably in there.

Yoshino: “Umm......?”

Kurama: “Don’t ask, Yoshino. It reminded me of one of this man’s incomprehensible tastes. He-----has a strange obsession with cats.”

Ibuki: “What’s so hard to understand? They’re the cutest thing in the world.”

Despite his complaint, his palm was moving back and forth across the kitten’s back lovingly.

(That was unexpected!!)

Kurama: “Still, die.”

--------Part 3-------

Kurama: “Still, die.”

Yoshino: “Wait! Not here....”

I felt the wind around us start to blow unnaturally and hurriedly grabbed Kurama’s arm, which reluctantly stopped moving.

Ibuki: “You have a woman with you now, Kurama. Learn to settle things through talking than using violence as a solution for everything.”

Kurama: “All right. Would like to have a blood bath or be completely mutilated?”

(This is not how you do it!)

Yoshino: “I think you need to calm down....Ibuki doesn’t seem to be in a mood to fight, right?”

Ibuki: “You’re right. After that war, I lost a lot of my magic power. Thank you, Kurama.”

Kurama: “You deserved it anyway. And you, Yoshino, why are you talking to a man who tried to slaughter you?”

(You’re right, but....)

Yoshino: “I’m curious about Ibuki too....”

Kurama: “Ha?”

Ibuki: “....Ohh.”

Then Kurama glares at Ibuki.

(Oh, I know now!)

Yoshino: “I think it’s because he’s similar to Kurama.”

Kurama: “I and him are SAME!>”

Ibuki: “How are we similar?”

(Hmmmm.....)

Yoshino: “------I think it’s the aesthetics of it, even though it looks like it’s driven by crazy logic.”

......It was just after I was captured by Ibuki and subjected to Yasuchika-san’s manipulation spell.

-------FLASHBACK------

Ibuki: “You must be in a lot of pain, but you’re strong. I like you. I can’t wait to see your face when you cry.”

Yoshino: “I….will never despair in your presence.”

Ibuki: “What?”

Yoshino: “I will prove to you the strength of humans that I believe in.”

Ibuki: “……………… Interesting. Then let’s play that game. Show me what you’re really made of.”

------FLASHBACK END-----

(Yes, when I saw Ibuki’s eyes at that moment...for some reason I felt like it resembled Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I still can’t forgive you for what you made me do. But I also think that somehow I accepted his way of life because he and Kurama came into contact with each other’s values on the very edge like that.”

(So maybe that’s why I couldn’t really hate Ibuki.)

Kurama: “..........”

Ibuki, who had been listening with his mouth agape, muttered quietly.

Ibuki: “----You’re a woman with good instincts. No wonder you won Kurama’s heart.”

(Eh?)

Yoshino: “What?”

Ibuki: “Nothing.”

Then a soft smile came across Ibuki’s lips.

Ibuki: “I shouldn’t have given you to Kurama. I should have noticed you earlier on and have played with you instead.”

(Ibuki....?)

His voice was calm and clear, with a hint of emotion.

When I was standing there confused-----

Kurama: “It’s unpleasant to see you imagine an impossible future.”

(Wow)

As if to break Ibuki’s gaze, Kurama hides me behind his back.

Ibuki: “I’m possessive too, just like you.”

Kurama: “I’ll pull out that tongue of yours if you say one more time that we’re similar.”

Ibuki: “Oh dear, why do you want to deny the similarities between us, Kurama? I’ve had so much fun raising you, don’t you know?”

Kurama: “More of the same nonsense.”

Ibuki: “I’m serious. I wouldn’t have carried around cute little boy like you for all those years.”

Ibuki giggled as he reminisced about the old days.

Ibuki: “Seeing you again at the battle that night, reminded me of our first meeting.”

(I’m sure Ibuki is a distorted person....)

(But I think he really likes Kurama.)

Kurama: “The words you speak are toxic. I will not ask you to mean it now. But your power, which I have longed to surpass, has not faded with the passing of time.”

Ibuki: “......!”

(Kurama...)

It was the first time I had ever heard Kurama say anything close to praise for Ibuki.

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

-----Part 4-----

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

Kurama: “Stop joking. I’m going to take the strength I’ve developed under you and go further.”

Ibuki: “-----See. You're being cute again.”

(Kurama was so disgusted by Ibuki’s habit of playing with others and the stupidity of those around him that he had to say goodbye.)

(But if he hadn’t recognized Ibuki’s strength, I think he would have given up on him much sooner.)

It was probably inevitable that their paths had diverged, but I couldn’t help thinking of a future if they hadn’t parted ways.

Ibuki: “You’re getting stronger, my son.”

Kurama(glares cutely): “Who’s your son? I’ll kill you.”

Yoshino: “No bloodshed here!!!!”

In response to Kurama’s death threat, the kitten in Ibuki’s hands woke up.

Ibuki: “Yosh Yosh. Don’t be scared.”

Kitten: “Mew.”

Ibuki: “....Oww.”

The kitten clawed Ibuki’s finger, jumps off his hand, and runs away.

Kurama: “Such an interesting little animal.”

(Is Ibuki mad.....?)

Ibuki was silent for a moment, but then-----

Ibuki: “He has a good temperament. A cat with a bright future.”

Ibuki, muttering with a straight face, looks at the kitten’s regretfully and stands up.

Ibuki: “See you, Kurama. And you too, Yoshino.....I’ll play with you sometime when I feel like it.”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

Ibuki turned and walked away, not caring that I shouted in surprise.

Kurama: “Yoshino. We’re going to go to the hot springs one more time to get rid of Ibuki out of our minds.”

Yoshino: “One more time!?”

Kurama pulled me by my waist and urged me to walk.

Kurama: “What the hell was that man even doing here?”

.....................

After part ways with Yoshino and Kurama, Ibuki went outside the inn only to see------

Ibuki: “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Yasuchika: “I want to kill you for making me wait for this long.”

Akihito: “Unforgivable, right? I wish I could have been in the hot springs.”

Ibuki: “Brats.”

Akihito looks at Ibuki, who shrugs and joins.

Akihito: “So? Did you get the point of having Yasuchika find out where Kurama and Yoshino are?”

Ibuki: “.......... It made me realize the value of what I’ve lost. Life is bittersweet.”

Yasuchika: “Wow! When Ibuki talks like a human, it makes me want to puke!”

Akihito: “Look, I have goosebumps too.”

Ibuki: “Are you just here to tease me?”

Akihito: “Actually, it’s rare to see you like this, Ibuki. It’s refreshing.”

Giggling, Akihito started walking.

Akihito: “It’s a miracle to see you having a change of heart for the first time in 1200 years. The fact that there are miracles in this world is a joy for people like us.”

Both Yasuchika and Ibuki walked along with him through the trees.

------While also hoping for a miracle like that to happen deep in their hearts.

...................

That night.....

Yoshino: “I really enjoyed our trip!!”

Kurama: “Yeah. But, there were few interruptions along the way though.”

When we returned, we huddled together in the warmth of the cushions in Kurama’s room.

Yoshino: “I was also surprised to see Ibuki. But I’m glad nothing bad happened.”

(Ibuki’s magic is yet to return and the Imperial Court is unlikely to make any major moves...so we can enjoy our peace for the time being.)

The Shogunate and The Rebels are still on a temporary truce and also keeping an eye on the Imperial Court.

Yoshino: “When the Court’s plans are revealed and resolved then....the Shogunate and the Rebels will fight again, right?”

Kurama: “The feud between Yoritomo and Yoshitsune is deep. It is not easy for a human to forget his hatred. When the time comes to fight again----you’ll be sad, right?”

Yoshino: “Mm.”

When I imagined it, my heart hurts like it’s being torn apart.

Yoshino: “I’m sure I’ll suffer a great deal.....but I’ll never leave Kurama.”

(Because I didn’t choose to live with Kurama half-heartedly.)

Kurama: “I see.”

-------Part 5------

Kurama: “I see. Your suffering is yours and yours alone. No matter what I do, I will never be able to take that away from you.”

Kurama murmured with a deep voice.

Kurama: “But I promise, as a man who loves you, I will give you peace of mind until you stop crying.”

(Kurama.....)

Again and again, I am overwhelmed and swallowed up by the magnitude of his feelings.

Yoshino: “Mm....thank you.”

(Kurama always keeps his promise.)

(I know that....so I’m not scared anymore.)

Kurama: “You have beautiful eyes. I remember being irresistibly drawn to those eyes even before you and I got together.”

(Ah.....)

Kurama gently pushes me down and his face comes closer.

Kurama: “It’s that look that shines so strangely in the dark of night.”

Those words bring back memories.....

-------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What do you even know about me? I gave you the right to speak and now you’re getting on my head.”

Yoshino: “…..I certainly don’t know anything about Kurama. But still, the weak observe the strong.”

Kurama: “……………..”

Yoshino: “At least it’s faster for me to get to know Kurama…. than for Kurama, who has no interest in humans, to get to know me.”

Kurama: “—–Those eyes.”

Yoshino: “hmm?”

Kurama: “I don’t like your eyes. I hate the way how it’s shining so strangely in the dark night.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS-------

(It was the night when Ibuki kidnapped me and gave me to Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I know a lot more about Kurama now than I did back then.”

Kurama(blushing): “It’s still not enough. After wanting all of you, I’m still want more and more....I’d rather force myself to conquer all of you than hiding you from the rest of the world.”

(.....Mm.)

Kurama(blushing): “And the brilliance of your eyes.”

His red eyes approach with an insatiable heat.

Along with that, Kurama’s palm covers my eyes.

Yoshino: “Mmm.....”

In the darkness, I feel my lips being robbed.

A sweet sigh leaks from my mouth and his tongue invites itself in.

Yoshino: “Haa....ahh...Ku...ra...maa....”

(Mm...no more...)

I was even more sensitive now that my eyes are covered and I was easily overwhelmed by Kurama.

When my head was in a haze, he removes his hand.....

(.....Beautiful.)

I see Kurama looking down at me defenselessly.

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

His deep voice calls my name and softly bites my neck.

Yoshino: “Nnn....Ku...rama...”

Kurama: “Why are you keeping your voice down....? I like the way you resist, but you don’t have to fight greed, do you?”

Yoshino: “Nm...because...”

(Because it’s so embarrassing that I’m the only one drowning so much.)

Kurama: “I’m the only one who has the privilege to hear your sweet voice.....leave yourself to pleasure and accept my heart with your body.”

I can’t resist anymore. Everywhere he touches, just melts.

Yoshino: “Ahh....Ku...ra..ma....Mm...too....”

I put my arms around his neck and beg for him.

Kurama: “Finally gave up resisting?”

Yoshino(blushing): “How can I not...when you’re being so romantic...”

Kurama: “....Cheeky woman.”

(We will deepen our love as often as we can. In our own way...and fast.)

Kurama whispered to me and held me down, forcing his body in mine more roughly than usual....

On that night, I received the love of a lone demon who never belonged to anyone.....

fin.

Main Story Masterlist

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen mc #ikemen genjiden kurama #main story translations #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome

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nesquik-arccheron · 3 years

Text

I have a Nessian!Cop/undercover plot bunny in my head.

Nesta is called into Rhysand's office. He is chief. He and Nesta do not get along, but he knows she is good. She is the best cop after all. Always follows the rules, has a sharp tounge and is amazing at interrogation, etc. The biggest issue is she has gone through 8 partners in 2 years. Unheard of. Because why? She may be the best but she is so uptight and has an attitude and scares away everyone.

Cassian is currently getting over the loss of his old partner. He didn't die (because I would never do Azriel that dirty), but he sustained a life changing injury that may never let him continue working with his brothers. They are all disappointed that they won't be working together anymore but Az is safe and alive and that's all that matters.

Anyway, then there is Cassian, who is also one of the best, but he is reckless. Willing to do anything and everything no matter how stupid or far fetched it is to accomplish his goals. And he accomplishes them, but not always without consequences. He may or may not slightly blame himself for what happened to Az. It's not his fault. He has gone through 3 partners in 5 months since the accident because he has become more reckless, as Az had held him back, and no one can stand working with him because he may be a safely hazard.

Rhy doesn't want to get rid of him, he's his brother and he knows how good he is at his job. He tells him in order to stay, he has to attend mandatory therapy and is getting a new partner.

He is called into the office as well and sees Nesta sitting there, all prim and proper and so fucking annoying to Cassian. Why he doesn't know, but what he does know is that he fucking hates her. Her and her stupid follow the rules at all costs attitude and her beautiful face.

Rhys tells then that they are now partners.

A fight breaks out. Insults are thrown and maybe guns drawn? They are so dramatic.

Rhys tells them that Cassian will be removed if anymore buildings collapse and Nesta, well she may be transferred or removed as well because they only have so many people she can work through until there is no one left for her to partner with.

They think he's crazy. Rhys thinks they can handle each other, create a balance. They deny that.

They end up going on patrol, fights happen and they hate it. But they pretend to get along, they both know their careers are in the others hands and they fake how well everything is going in front of Rhys and but argue constantly behind the scenes.

Rhys is so fooled by it, thinking they are making improvements that he gives them a big undercover case. After all, they were still doing amazing work together.

They go undercover as a wealthy couple. They have to make friends with the high profile socialite husband (lawyer maybe) and his wife who are big time ďŕùģ dealers. They get invited to parties and galas, fundraisers, etc

While in public they have to pretend they are the loves of each others lives. Be affectionate and maybe even kiss. Maybe Eris shows up and flirts with Nesta and Cassian is jealous. He says it's because he is playing the part, but is it??

Meanwhile, they are living in this house together and never thought the tension would be this thick. They see each other in such different ways (Nesta wears glasses and loves reading smut, but she also leaves random glasses of water all over the house because she has to stay hydrated, Cassian thinks she should just get a waterbottle. And Cassian loves to cook and is part of the big brother program, she heard him apologizing one night to the kid because he wouldn't be in contact with him for a while. He was breaking the rules but Nesta couldn't bring herself to say anything negative about it.)

Stuff happens like accidently seeing each other naked, Nesta watching Cassian's body as he works out and she is in the treadmill. They talk and learn about each others pasts and why they both became cops.

One night, while at a fundraiser, they are going to finally make their bust, (everyone is called in for this, like Rhys, Mor, Amren maybe even Gwyn and Emerie) but something's go wrong and it all goes down hill and ends up with Nesta being kidnapped.

Cassian looses his shit.

They try and calm him down and but he is ready. Because Nesta. She made him memorize the layout, possible escape routes different scenarios

...even a kidnapping.

She was fucking amazing to him.

He starts calling orders. Everyone is so shocked because...CASSIAN?!?! The goofy guy they all love is taking charge and demanding attention.

For Nesta.

Shit is going down with Nesta. They will get a good ransom for her. She fights them, because Cassian also taught her some moves because it's good to keep things fresh, he told her.

By the time Cassian and everyone gets there she has one on the floor and is making good on the others. He smiles because that's his girl.

HIS GIRL.

They get recgonition for solving the biggest ďŕùģ bust in Velaris history. This is doing amazing things for their careers.

Rhys tells them they can't be partners anymore. It hurts but they get it. Their feelings would compromise it. They both separately deny it to him, but hey know it's true.

They meet one more time at the house they lived in for months while undercover to get their things.

They talk about the time they had here. The things they learned and how they changed.

They finally kiss.

Fade to black lol

#im not mentally stable #me #nessianhc #nesta #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #acosf #nessian fanfic #mine #plot bunny

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

#msr #My writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #cancer arc #Our Moments series #txf fanfic #feeling good enough to brave a grocery store #five-minute shower ultimatums

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 4 years

Note

He did? Umm.. what happened exactly?

(referring to this post)

my 11th grade chemistry teacher had an associates degree in liberal arts.

you know how in virtually every class you’ve ever had since middle school, your teachers made a big stink about the syllabus? she didn’t have one. this was her first teaching job, which she got because of her length experience as a substitute, not by her licensing qualifications. we were, at first, excited to have her, because she was a “fun sub” and we were 17 years old and stupid as all shit. we were the “normal chem” class in a system where the only other options were “honors chem” which was filled with children who actually know how to study (or cheat) and have an air of proper student activity, and “AP Chem”, which is clear enough if you’ve been an american student in the last 15 years.

she followed the mcgraw hill chemistry book in order of chapters, despite the fact that our state standardized tests did several of the chapters out of order. ever notice how you’ll suddenly be looking at chapter 11 when just last week you were on chapter 5, then the next week you’re on chapter 8? standardized testing is the reason. anyways by asking my friends in other classes who had chemistry teachers of relative competence, i was able to discern which chapters i should focus on, and while she was distracted with literally watching youtube videos all period, I was turning around in my seat and walking across the classroom helping my friends and enemies with the packets. (she was a two-packets-a-week kinda teacher.)

yes i said enemies too. the people i hated, i hated because they were sons of bitches i wouldnt piss on to put out a fire. i hated them so dearly i used to pray to god that they would bump into me so i could throw myself into the concrete and split my forehead open and get them expelled due to the blood-clause of our “zero-tolerance policy”. two of the kids in my class had, only the previous year, attempted to set my hair on fire.

i hated the teacher more.

it gave me extreme pleasure to see her fume and clench her fists when a student would say “i need help” across the classroom and she would move to get up and they would say “oh not you miss, im waiting for vicky.” jesus christ the only time ive ever felt a comparable high was when i was at a halloween party in college where i was literally so zooted i couldn’t move.

it got worse over time, her getting more and more angry, my ego growing larger and larger. i was a huge bitch in high school, i really thought i was the smartest bitch in the room at any given moment. severe main character syndrome. imagine that kind of person actually being right for 45 minutes out of every day. can you even comprehend the kind of frustration that would create? in a room full of little sociopaths who dont give a shit about anything but getting this joke of a class over with so they can graduate? your first real teaching job and they look right past you, the teacher, to this annoying little shit whose grades are completely abysmal? how are they managing to learn anything from a child who can barely speak in front of more than 10 people? who turns cherry red in the face of literally every authority figure in the building except you? who can’t concentrate and stay still in one spot for more than five minutes? all of your other classes behave! they listen! they sit down and shut up and do the packets! so what fucking gives!!!

so you say “fine, since you all HATE ME so much i just won’t teach then!!!” on literally week fucking ten of teaching. and instead of prostrating themselves before you, begging you to like... point at transparencies and read directly from powerpoints i guess.

and they all collectively say “okay” and let the chipmunk child flutter between desks and help them memorize formulas and mnemonic devices and shit. surely her grades will suffer if she’s constantly dealing with other people and you’ll have justification that her horseshit is “distracting” and “a detriment to her studies”. she got bored gave up on that after two days after nothing changed.

then we did the midterm.

except at the end of the exam packet was something we never learned because again, she was going through the book chronologically. because i actually enjoyed the chem book (so much that i stole it when the year was up lmao), i knew the material.

it was about lewis dots/structures. i couldn’t tell you a damn thing about it today but in december 2010 i absolutely knew that shit. i didnt have too much of a problem with it in the exam, but the students who had gotten to that point were complaining and at first she pulled that “you should have been studying independently uwu” shit but the class was about to get loud during exam period so she shushed us and said that when we get to that point, just stop, and she’ll mark it correct during grading, no harm no foul just keep it quiet. one of the more confrontational students called horseshit and said theres no way we’re trusting that and there’s definitely no way anyone will keep an entire classroom cheating at the instruction of the teacher quiet.

i offered to teach it.

she scoffed, rolled eyes, said “sure fine but you can’t get your exam back” and i said “okay.” so when everyone was to the point in the exam, we piled them all on her desk and i used the whiteboard to briefly and quietly explain lewis dots, used the book examples and problems, and helped the other kids understand. there were a couple exam questions that were lifted straight from the book problems so i skipped those. while teaching i realized i had gotten a couple wrong which sucked :( it was an incredibly stupid experience overall, and no teacher worth the paper their certification is printed on would have allowed that to happen. and fucking yet.

anyways everyone but me got their exams back and finished it and many of us passed, only a few of them did particularly well.

discussing the chem exam with friends who also took the chem exam, many students found their anecdote about the lewis dots to be confounding, for you see, the exam we took was not, in fact, the midterm, but the god damned final.

she had us taking the fucking final because she didnt read the fucking folders which read “midterm” and “final exam” on them

she was reprimanded severely and we all had to take the exam on different days, in different classrooms, sitting very far apart. after that she hated me even more. like girl it was your fault lmao i am literally a teenager grow up lol. anyways you can imagine how much more fucking insufferable i became, knowing how miserable she was.

it all came to a head in february when some students were giggling quietly following a minor fuck up on her part regarding bellwork. they were making fun of her like “are you sure thats not tomorrows bellwork lol” and a friend next to me did the “hey i need help wait no miss not you sorry” thing and when i answered him, she solidly snapped. blah blah YOURE SOOOO DISTRACTING blah blah YOU THINK YOURE SOOOO SMART DONT YOU blah blah blah and she was like demanding i leave the room and shouting at the top of her lungs at me “ YOU POISON THE MINDS OF EVERY OTHER STUDENT HERE. YOU’RE POISONOUS VICTORIA, YOU’RE A VIRUS IN THIS CLASSROOM.”

i will never forget that line as long as i live. it was like crack to me. i moved to open the door to leave and the vp opened it first. he escorted me to the office and asked me what happened, then told me to keep my head down in class from now on, and that if i wanted to help my friends i should give them my number and help them out on our own time. i was like “bro thats really stupid” and he was like “thats all we can do right now but i promise we’re working on it”

i lasted the rest of the year giving smug smiles as we did packet after fucking packet for the rest of the year. they were all take-home work. i wasnt comfy giving my number to my enemies. the class camaraderie ended.

the final was altered. my class took a different final than the rest of the normal chem classes.

i started 12th grade and got a solid case of senioritis. i told that story to anyone who would listen. while it was happening, i obviously told my favorite teacher everything as it happened. when i mentioned it senior year he was like “oh yeah i forgot about her,

she was fired over the summer.”

#let me tell you bitch i SCREAMED......#anyways im not sorry this was long #its literally the only cool thing thats ever happened to or about me so shrugs #Anonymous

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