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epinebleue · 1 year ago

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for him (m) | 02

after a year abroad, you think summer back home can’t get any better. then, a charming ginger boy catches your eye.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader (female)

genre: rich kids!au, fluff, angst, mature.

warnings: mention of low self-esteem and racism.

chapter index | previous chapter | next chapter

Every summer, Jennifer’s parents spend two weeks in France to celebrate what they call their “annual honeymoon”.

Every summer, Jennifer throws a pool party while they’re away.

You’re supposed to be at her place at 10 AM to help her prep the space, but having stayed up late the night before, the annoying sound of the alarm does little to wake you up in the morning, Oliver doing so, instead.

You step into Jen’s patio exactly two hours later. She clicks her tongue at you, as if saying: “Finally!”.

Through the dark lenses of your sunglasses, you glance at her body as she approaches. The beautiful baby blue bikini she’s wearing fits her like a glove, as if it had been tailored with her in mind.

You’re used to feeling insecure whenever you’re around Jen. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

It’s been this way since middle school, when one day the boys in your class rated the girls’ bodies from 1 to 10 on a piece of paper. You came second to last, while Jen’s name sat comfortably in first place.

“I know, I know.” You let out a sigh, allowing Jen to give you a tight hug. “I’m sorry.��

Johnny and Sooyoung wave at you from inside the pool and you wave back, walking to where the rest of your friends are. Wendy, who was sunbathing, sits beside you under the parasol. Victoria gets out of the pool and joins the group soon after.

Once settled on the lounger, you scan the space. Ten and Lucas are sitting on the edge of the pool with sunglasses on, swinging their legs in the water, immersed in what seems an intense conversation. Sooyoung and Johnny splash around as they try to drown each other, much to Yuta’s annoyance, who finds their game an obstacle to what he really wants: swim in peace.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but then, the switch in your mind flips: someone’s missing.

“Hey, where’s Chris?”

There’s a moment of silence where Wendy takes a sip of her lemonade, eye-siding Jen. “They argued yesterday.”

Your brunette friend looks away, missing your surprised expression. “Again?”

Chris’ parents are family friends, so you’ve known him for as far as you can remember. However, you had never interacted much until he became Jennifer’s first serious boyfriend.

Being an only child, Chris is expected to inherit his family’s wealth and business. If he’s famous for something, though, that’s his looks. You must admit he’s drop dead gorgeous. Of course, Jen wouldn’t settle for less.

Soon after they started dating, you realized that having a handsome partner had its drawbacks. Jennifer would whine in your group chat every week about how hard it was to stand girls checking him out, how some would go as far as to sneak papers with their phone numbers when she wasn’t looking.

Even if Chris politely rejected their approaches every time, Jennifer started to gradually get sick of the whole situation until, one day, it exploded.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s a Greek statue come to life, Jen, of course he will be hit on!” Wendy says. “You’ve got to learn to cope.”

Jen rolls her eyes at Wendy’s words, a sign she’s getting angry.

“On what side are you on, exactly?”

“We aren’t picking sides.” You try to mediate, making a gesture to your blonde friend, asking for her sun cream. Having prepared your bag in a rush, you must’ve left yours at home. “I know it’s hard to watch people flirt with him all the time. But Wendy has a point, too. Being good-looking isn’t his fault, you know?”

You end your statement with a glance in Victoria’s direction, but the girl doesn’t say a word. She’s the type to not participate in debates like this.

“Exactly!” Wendy agrees, pointing at you. “Besides, he always rejects those advances. He would never hurt your feelings on purpose, Jen. He’s literally the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Talking about me, I see.”

You turn around to find Yuta standing behind you, soaked from head to toe. A water drop on the tip of his hair falls on his shoulder and you follow it as it slides down his chest and reaches his happy trail.

You fan yourself. Good thing it’s hot today. Otherwise, what would you blame the fire in your belly on?

Jen chuckles as Yuta sits next to her, seeking protection from the aggressive sun. “Humble as always.”

“I thought I was the nicest boy you’ve ever met.” He shoves her with his shoulder, smiling. You’ve got the urge to look away. The fire in your belly is quickly replaced by an unsettling feeling you’re familiar with.

“After Chris.” Victoria finally speaks. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Not really, but I’ll get over it.” Yuta shrugs. “How come you’re still dry? It’s a pool party, ladies, come on!”

All your friends stand up, encouraged by his words and the terrible heat, and start walking to the pool. Except you. When Yuta notices, he gestures to you to join them.

“I’m not done.” You say, shaking the suncream bottle in the air.

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

“It’s fine.” He sits exactly where he was a few seconds ago. “Just go with the others.”

“Some more time in the shade never hurts.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” You find it hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. “You’ve fooled me. I thought you were a gentleman.”

Yuta leans back, his abs flexing as he speaks. He’s got such a tiny waist, adorned by a tattoo of a butterfly. You wonder if it carries any meaning.

“Oh, but I am.”

“I don’t believe it.” You finish extending the cream on your left arm. “You’ve hung around Ten for too long.”

“Other people’s personalities don’t change mine. I’m not Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him.” You’re aware of the bad reputation that precedes Lucas. A drunk heart-to-heart conversation that happened before you went abroad helped you realize Lucas uses his behavior as a mask to hide his numerous insecurities. In a way, you can relate to that. Besides, being the youngest of five successful siblings makes him subject to his parents’ expectations, which tend to be unrealistic. And his brothers, far from supportive, are entitled assholes, straight-up bullies. No wonder he feels he has to act all tough to be taken seriously. “He’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, are we talking about the same person?” You’re about to defend Lucas again, but upon watching you struggle to apply the cream on your back, Yuta interrupts you before you can talk. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll get sunburnt there, anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yuta grabs the bottle and sits right behind you, deaf to your words. At his insistence, you reach for your hair with trembling hands. Before you can even move it aside, he does so, his fingers brushing your back in the process.

You hold your breath at the sound of the cream coming out of the bottle. And then, his hands are on you.

You think your heart will jump out of your mouth and start running around the patio.

His warm palms delicately rub the cream into your skin, and you hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that bloom when he reaches the small of your back.

God, you’re so touch-starved it’s embarrassing.

You wonder if you’re tripping when Yuta takes a little longer to massage your shoulders. Trying to focus on anything else, your eyes land on Jen, who has joined Lucas and Ten by the edge of the pool. The bikini lets her flat stomach on display. Unconsciously, you suck in yours. She places her hair behind her shoulders as she laughs at something that Ten says.

Even her laugh sounds beautiful, everything about her is!

That must be why Yuta likes her so much.

You stand up, getting as far away from his hands as possible.

“I think that will do.” You say, eyes fixed on the floor, aware of how much you’ve just embarrassed yourself. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” His tone remains normal, but if you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him frown at the sudden mood change. Yuta leaves the bottle on the chair and follows you to the pool.

“About time you stopped playing handsies back there.”

You simply lift your middle finger at Ten, quickly making your way towards the staircase, hoping the water will hide your body from the rest.

It’s close to midnight and you’re on the verge of begging your parents to leave.

You’re celebrating the promotion of someone you don’t even know; drinking alcohol-free champagne, which you don’t even like that much; and bored Robinson Crusoe level.

Oliver and Noa left the moment they found their friends. Oli had invited you to join them, but you kindly refused, knowing that you would feel like a babysitter around his friends.

So, here you are, glued to your parents’ side, forced to listen to important conversations with important people, interested in neither.

Why have you been forced to come if your presence isn’t even going to be acknowledged? Your dad said it would be rude not to attend after a year abroad. What you understood was that they wanted to show you off, and the party seemed to be the perfect occasion.

You gulp the remains of your drink and leave the empty glass on the nearer table. You open your mouth, about to ask when you will be heading out when your dad’s name comes from the crowd.

“Jonathan!” He exclaims in surprise, shaking the hand of the man that appears in front of him. “Natalie! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, we didn’t know you were coming!” Natalie, or what you call her out of respect, Mrs. Fulger, kisses your mother’s cheeks before addressing you. “You’re back from your trip! How was it, darling?”

You deliver a polite smile to the Fulgers, saying how the trip was “absolutely fantastic” and “a truly enriching experience.”

“You must be proud of her.” Mr. Fulger tells your parents, placing his big hand on his son’s shoulder. “Chris will take a gap year after graduating. One last taste of freedom before joining the company.”

The Fulger marriage laughs and your parents join them, and in less than a minute you’re back to being ignored, business taking over the conversation. You awkwardly stand beside your mom until you decide it’s enough.

“I’ll get something to drink.” You excuse yourself. “I’ll be back.”

“Chris will be enchanted to go with you.”

His father pushes him forward slightly. Chris gives you his signature charming smile before saying: “Of course.”

You make your way towards the bar immersed in an awkward silence. Of all people, you had to bump into him.

“Are you liking this party so far?”

“I’m bored to death.”

“Me too.” You tap the bar counter with your long nails, laughing at his honest answer. “How’s life going?”

“Good, it’s good.” He looks around, playing with the glass he’s holding. “I’m in the training process to start working in my father’s company. He wants me to get familiar with the business and its processes before stepping in.”

There’s nothing worse than inheriting a position in a family business, but that’s just your opinion.

“You must be excited.”

“I am, yeah.” Chris nods, taking a sip of his drink. Even if you’re both trying hard to ignore the elephant in the room, Chris gives in first. “Have you talked to Jennifer, by the way?”

“She’s my best friend, Chris.”

He gives you a half-smile, only realizing now how stupid his question must’ve sounded.

“She won’t return my calls or my texts. She has blocked me on every social media, she doesn’t even want to see me! I don’t know where we stand right now.”

You’re not sure of what to answer, afraid you may say the wrong thing. One thing you know, though, is that even if you’ll always be loyal to Jen, you must admit she’s handling this whole thing terribly wrong.

“I’m sure it sucks.”

Chris genuinely laughs for the first time tonight.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh at his irony-filled tone, too, and the atmosphere feels much lighter now. “Relationships are so fucking complicated. Don’t ever get into one.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, taking a sip of the drink the waiter has just served you. “It’s not like there’s a long line of men dying to date me.”

“Now, that’s surprising.”

Much to your delight, he’s too invested in his problem to notice how the blood has rushed to your cheeks.

A certain someone comes to your mind and with him a question you’re dying to ask.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way.” Chris straightens his back, shoving a hand into the pocket of his suit pants, nodding. “Have you and Jen argued due to a… third person?”

It’s just like when people yell at a character to not go into the room where the killer awaits. But it’s just you in the cinema, screaming at yourself to stop talking.

“Of course not! What the fuck?” Chris’ blue eyes open wide in shock as he reaches for his phone. “Did she tell you that? Does she think I’m cheating?”

“No, Chris.” You place a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him from texting Jen, who will murder you if she finds out you have planted a new suspicion in Chris’ mind. “God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. It was just a question! I swear-”

“Hey.”

You aren’t sure if you should celebrate or bury a hole in the floor and hide when Yuta appears out of thin air, his eyes falling on Chris’ arm, where your hand is. You quickly move it away, which is exactly what is needed to make everything look suspicious.

“Hi.” Chris greets, not interested in Yuta’s presence at all. His head is elsewhere now that you’ve completely fucked up. “I’m leaving, I need to call her.”

Chris disappears in the crowd before you have the chance to say goodbye, leaving you behind with Yuta, who raises an eyebrow at you.

“Um, what was that?”

Whatever he’s insinuating offends you terribly. Do you look like the type to steal your best friends’ guys?

“That was nothing.” You snap. “He’s Jen’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“It’s a rough patch, they’ll end up getting back together.”

“Hopefully, they won't.” Your heart drops at his remark, but Yuta’s too busy looking in the direction Chris has disappeared, resting an elbow on the bar. “I hate that guy.”

Chris has always seemed kind and very down to earth. You wonder what could he have possibly done to gain Yuta’s resentment. To that question, you’ve got a theory. And you’d hate being right.

“I think he’s nice.”

“Oh, you think he’s nice?” Yuta snorts at your words. “You don’t know him that well at all, then.”

Yuta glances around the room, which allows you to scan him for a while. He looks really handsome in a suit. He reminds you of those vintage Hollywood stars.

“Why do you hate Chris? Is it because you like Jennifer?”

The question shocks you both. Again, you’re alone in the cinema begging yourself to just shut the fuck up.

“What?” He lets out a laugh of disbelief. “What does Jen have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know...”

“Oh, you do know. What have you seen that made you think that?”

Congratulations! You’ve just dug your own grave.

“Nothing in particular.” You answer, shrugging. “You seem to get along really well, now you hate her boyfriend...”

“First of all, I don’t like Chris because he’s a racist piece of shit. And I get along really well with Johnny, too. Do you think I want to fuck him, too?”

You can feel the color draining from your face.

“I don’t know what you like.”

If there’s something you’ve learned about Yuta, it’s that he’s the straightforward type. He’s unbothered and an expert when it comes to turning around the conversation to make it beneficial for him. He’s something like a mastermind, you’d say.

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You shriek, trying to hide your shaky voice with a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Why then would you ask me about Jen?” Yuta presses, tilting his head to the side. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not! I was just curious!”

“You’re full of shit.” You’d be lying if you said you don’t find his smirk insanely attractive. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind. I would be very glad, actually.”

It’s at this point that your head starts spinning.

You see, you have never been confident. Out of the friend group, you’ve always been the shiest one. You don’t smile in pictures because you think your smile is ugly, and you don’t wear tight clothes because you hate your body.

You have had a single relationship in your life, at sixteen, and it crushed your self-esteem even further. A promise to yourself was made after that: no one would put you through that hell again.

Is that what Yuta is playing at? Making you believe he likes you just to laugh in your face once you take the bait?

He had seemed genuine when he defended you the night you met. Had it just been to give a good first impression?

You hold your purse tight, hold your head high.

“I hope the rest of your night goes well, Yuta.”

And you walk away with your dignity intact.

No reposting or translations allowed.

#yuta smut #nct smut #nct fic #nct yuta #nct yuta smut #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nct yuta angst #nct yuta fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagine

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tyriq-edits · 10 months ago

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In the Plain of Nysa (Trigun Greek Mythology AU)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Priest of the Twins' Cult

Lives pretty much in the Sanctuary of Nysa by himself but gets occasionally visited by other Members of the Cult, his younger brother Livio or people in need of the Twin Gods' Blessings.

A (Kinda?) normal Priest living in his tiny Sanctuary offside from Civilisation on a small Island in the Aegean sea called Nysa.

His Duties for the most Part consist of Prayers and Sacrifices for the Gods And keeping the Temple and Statue of the Twins clean and occasionally doing a Ritual on thr Request of the odd Visitor.

Did not expect one of the Gods he is serving to be dropped off at his Temple by the goddess Meryl and her Satyr companion Roberto and to be stuck Body-Guarding said God but oh well here he is.

May Or May Not Regret Giving Vash That Short Chiton.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

Also shout out to my best pal Stephan for teaching me how to draw.

Additional Ramblings about the lore and WW’s design under the cut

This is btw what a Penennular Fibula looked like and I only now noticed that WW is wearing it wrong in my drawing 🥲 The needle is supposed to rest on the Bow of the brooch and not in the opening in the middle.

Also this Fanfic takes place approximately around the time of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), however Penennular Fibula were primarily worn by either Celts and Romans. So as you can tell while I am trying my best with historical research and keeping things somewhat historically accurate, there are still creative liberties being taken for this AU.

As for why this AU and Wolfwood‘s Sanctuary are called "in the Plain of Nysa“: It‘s actually a reference to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, aka the most complete version of the Myth of Hades and Persephone we have. In this Hymn it says

In other words it was "in the Plain of Nysa“ in which Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. On a fun note, Nysa is actually not a real place anywhere in Greece. It was instead meant to symbolise "a place far away“ the same way we tend to say "in a kingdom far away“ when starting to tell a fairytale. However that did not stop some Ancient Greeks from guessing where Nysa might be located. Some thus point it to be situated somewhere in Macedon or today‘s Balkans, others claimed it was around the area of the Black Sea or…. That Nysa was on the Island Naxos. Which is why in early drafts the Sanctuary was meant to be located on Naxos itself but as I have never been to Naxos in my life it felt disrespectful to the actual people who live there so I just changed it to the Sanctuary of Nysa being on a lone non-existent Island near Naxos instead.

On a smaller note Nysa was also said to have been the Birthplace of Dionysos, with his name meaning "God of Nysa“. In other Stories however Nysa was the name of a mountain on which Dionysus had started his cult.

I am also taking some creative liberties with how Priesthood functioned in ancient Greece. Unlike how it works in Catholicism and other religions, Priests in ancient Greece were not a separate social class. Heck apart from a few Cults and sanctuaries, being a priest was not even seen as a main occupation of job for that reason. And a priest usually wasn‘t chosen by some council, but in many cases you just paid a certain amount of money to become a priest. They did not even have an official attire like catholic or shinto priests do nowadays. However they were still expected to dress somewhat formally compared to WW‘s Exomis, which is basically the ancient greek equivalent of a priest showing up in shorts, flip flops and an old Tshirt.

The Twins Cult in this AU is by the way HEAVILY based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, aka the Mystery Cult dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. I will some day make a post dedicated to them and priesthood in ancient Greece as a whole.

And yes I still fucking hate drawing feet and shoes.

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fewblood · 15 days ago

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Beware of the Shadow - König x Fem Reader - Part 2

I couldn't believe it; here I was, stuck in this mess, feeling I reached the gates of hell earlier than I should. This wasn't how I planned my fucking 'new start', and karma sure had a wicked sense of humor.

I got to my small bedroom to change and, without much conviction, I made my way to the gym. Or, more accurately, right into what felt like a death sentence.

As I entered the empty place that reeked of sweat and musk, I quickly spotted König laying against the back wall, already waiting for me.

Eager to reduce me to dust I see…

He dropped his gears for lighter clothes too, but his face remained hidden as always. He looked down at me for a moment, and I could only look back nervously.

Focus—If I play this well, maybe I'll be able to get out of this without anything broken.

Or not…

I swallowed painfully, unsure of what to expect of my last moments. Should I try to get my way out of this? What's worse, being labeled as a coward or as a dead woman? The atmosphere hung in a hushed stillness, as if we were observing a moment of silence before my impending execution.

His hoarse voice jolted me back to reality as it resonated through the gym and down my spine, sending unpleasant shivers.

"Let us begin. Make sure not to hold back, soldier." he warned as he promptly directed me into the ring.

Why am I doing this again…?

Think… I could take advantage of his height, but still… König is huge—like huge huge. My head don't even reach his shoulders for fuck sake! How am I supposed to fight against that?

I locked my gaze to his as I tried not to show too much of a defeated look. Yeah, let's put on a brave face for now… Something could work, but that would only be possible if he makes the first move.

Yet, König stood perfectly still, appearing like those flawless Greek statues that convey pure strength through their very form. His muscles were accentuated by the snug fit of his t-shirt, the sight alone would dissuade anyone from even looking in his direction.

Like all the other lucky people he sparred with, I was obviously shorter than him. That's nothing new. But I too had consistently faced opponents higher than me—well, maybe not that high...

He was calm, yet something was off. He raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for me to make a move. But here I was, staring back at him like a mad cat ready to pounce, longing for him to engage. I waited. But nothing happened.

I have to make him move, I have no other options.

…

Ok, maybe I’ll die today, but I'll make this at least entertaining for the both of us. Resolved, I switched to a smug look, determined to make this act at least somewhat believable.

"What are you waiting for? Afraid to take on someone smaller?" I taunted.

I maintained my smirk as sweat beads formed on the nape of my neck. König's eyes remained fixed on me for a moment. He seemed tense, but his mood still remained mainly indecipherable.

"Nice try, but a true warrior knows when actions speak louder. I recommend doing the same."

I felt my insides slowly twisting into a knot, acknowledging briefly all the anxiety I was desperately trying to ignore since the beginning of this ill-fated evening.

I can do it. At least I have to try.

After taking a deep breath, I stared back, straight into his eyes, now full of a newfound determination.

"Of course."

I waved two fingers at him as my smirk grew wider.

"Bring it on."

König stood motionless as he watched my fingers move in front of me. He saw my hand gesture, he knew what it meant, yet he remained still.

Although, I could see something flicker in his eyes. Was it anger? No, more like… annoyance. Understandable, given he brought me here to teach me a lesson.

I also noticed his fists slightly clench in my peripheral vision.

Huh… So my attitude might somewhat affect him.

I obviously can't win by force, so I have to think, and think well. My mind was going wild, racing with possibilities. I kept my grin on, but this time it was genuine.

"Come on, no need to be shy. I don't bite." I almost purred to provoke him again.

I hope I won't regret my words…

Shit, I know I'll fucking do, but at least it's working.

König’s eyes widened a bit at my words. He stood his ground again, yet I could feel it: despite his stoic demeanor, he was growing more and more irritated as the seconds ticked by.

"Still hesitating? You're softer than I thought..." I chuckled.

It was as if you could see the air change around him, how the shackles of control were on the verge of giving in. He just needed one last push, something that would make him want to shut me up badly… So, I took a deep breath as the thrill made my heart pound louder and louder.

"Come on, big guy!" I shouted, "Cat got your tongue, or are you afraid a woman might show you how it's done?!"

König stayed still and yet, just as I feared he might, I could tell his lips curled up into a dark smile.

In an instant, he stepped forward with fire in his eyes, his anger turning into rage. He seemed furious at himself for falling into some stupid mind games, but his frustration could not stay contained anymore. He lunged forward, his fist flying towards my face.

Yes, now!

In one swift motion, I squatted as much as I could and slipped between his legs. He tried to close his thighs on me, but I violently kicked the back of his knee with my forearm right before he could react.

It luckily made him lose his balance, so I sprang back behind him and pulled his arm in an arm lock, ignoring the throbbing pain I got in my own after the blow I just gave him.

He grunted in pain as he bent down, his hurt knee on the ground. As I pushed myself on his back, I immediately felt the immeasurable strength under there. The description of him being a "muscle mountain" felt pretty accurate, at least as much as I wished it didn't.

I'll have to anticipate all of his movements, otherwise, if he manages to catch me, I'm fucked. Even all my years of practice could find themselves useless when faced against such an opponent.

Although my movements were a surprise attack, König surely had been anticipating something like this. He winced as I put more pressure on his arm and back. Still, he tried his best to fight through it.

His strength is undoubtedly prodigious, but still: it doesn't mean he's immune to pain.

He let out a loud roar as he attempted to break my stance, his free hand reaching for me.

If he could just get one good grip, I would be terminated.

Expecting such a reaction, I managed to avoid his big palm but shit—that was close.

I tightened my grip and forced his other knee on the ground with a strong foot kick. This allowed me to firmly plant both of my feet on his calves and keep them grounded, exerting all my weight on them like my life depended on it. Even though, in this moment—it kinda did.

Grumbling in pain, König placed his free hand on the ground to resist being pushed down further.

Despite my best efforts to pin him down, even with only one hand to support him, it still proved impossible.

I need to neutralize him in some other way, and quickly!

König suppressed his grunting; he wasn't giving up too, not that soon, not like this. His free hand reached for me again, searching for my arm…

...and he found it.

_______________________________

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#cod #mw2 #codmw2 #codfanfiction #codfanfic #fanfic #writing #könig #königxreader #königcodmw2 #königmw2 #codkönig #königcallofduty

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ginjones · 1 year ago

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While it is usually Dream who makes the first move, this time it is Hob. Sharing his body with Hope in all the luxuriating pleasures of the evening. The wine and the songs and the sheer joy of it. An enjoyment, he admits, to having taking pleasure in himself. Music, while an indulgence from days long passed, is filled with stories and symbolism. He is learning, once again, to appreciate these things.

Hob has learned to channel Hope so seamlessly that it is nothing short of a wonder. It is easy then, to allow this moment of pleasure. To allow Hob to coax him into the alleyway, to press him firmly up against the wall and crowd him with his body heat and his love and his childish naivety. A youthful endless may be oxymoronic and yet-here he is presented in every golden shade. Hob clambers for him, kisses him deeply, pours a sense of prospect into his own endless selfhood. And the light which radiates from them both now is nothing short of mesmeric.

Hope is all about momentum. He is an ever moving, ever striving force and for a moment, Dream luxuriates in that attention. Caught in the warmth of their bodies together as Hob ruts into him. His body brought low under the attentions of this god of indulgences. Baccus and Dionysus are not facets of Hope in the purest sense, and yet, Dream detects a redirection of a narrative. Hob has collected the spindles of an ancient story and pushed it seamlessly within himself.

“I know what you’re hoping for love and it’s okay” Hob says, with all the resolute assurance of a being so attuned to his power. “I’m going to make you feel so wonderful. I can feel your intentions like honey in my mouth. God’s wounds, darling. You taste so good.”

Every step that has led them here has been wonderous. And yet, the old hook of self-admonishment sinks itself like a thorn in his side. What are wants to a creature like him? Despite this evening, despite it all, he cannot help but fall back on the oldest story known to him:

“I do not hope for anything.”

Hob sighs quietly and brings him out of the hold. “Dream…..Come on Dove. You of all people know that a concept extends further than its naming in one language. What’s the root of the word?”

And oh, this devilish thing. That little smirk of knowing. That yes, of course. Because he has ascended to the status of endless, Hob is privy to every facet of human knowledge. That every iteration of hope, in every language, appears to him as easily as blinking.

“Look, I’ll give you a clue… what does Hope mean in Greek?”

“There is…no direct translation of it but I suppose one would say the lady Elpis is the symbolic representation of it.”

“Yes”, Hob replies, the smile unwavering and gently coaxing him to continue.

“Elpis is expectation. Fulfilment.”

“This is my function, darling.” Hob laughs. “As much as you’re incapable or ignoring your duty to all those who dream I am incapable of ignoring an invocation to hope. And if my present state is anything to go by,” Dream regards the flush of his cheeks, the hard outline of his prick displayed proudly along the seam of his trousers, “I am absolutely, positively primed to grant you that fulfilment and fuck your brains out tonight.”

#the sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling fic #hope!hob

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officialdaydreamer00 · 1 year ago

Note

- Dies irae, dies illa -

"Holy be thy name, God of Warth, God of Fools,

Holy be thy bloody lance, holy be thy flaming tools."

The redheaded high priest knelt, prayinh at the feet of the statue of his beloved god, praying to hear their voice, praying for them to heed his call. Would his God appear before their loyal subject, who sacrificed so much in pursuit of their Grace and in pursuit of being their favorite - blood, riches... his very own heart?

***

"My Little Crimson Priest...

Pray for deliverance.

QUESTION NOT THE FORM IT ARRIVES IN."

(Elysium request: Priest Riddle x God Reader pls <3 Feel free to skip if you want <333)

"The Priest in red, devoted to whom he prays for

Shall learn their benevolence exists no more

The deity who lost, forgotten by time

Shall rise again to the third bell's chime

Witness first hand the Lost One's wrath

And bound to forever walk on a crimson path."

pairing: riddle rosehearts x reader

content: it was supposed to be a short drabble ;-; this is a oneshot, reader is vaguely based after the goddess nemesis, mentions of religions and blood, there is probably crumbs of fluff in a sea of possessive behaviours but that's to be expected when dealing with gods, probably ooc riddle, greek mythology

the oracle speaks — genuinely one of the most jaw dropping requests i received (i don't like the ending i wrote hhhhhh)

The Fates cannot save you now. I am sorry, my child.

— the church bell chimed at three o' clock exactly in the afternoon.

riddle still knelt there, in a far corner of a temple, dutifully praying to the lone statue of the god he sworn his loyalty to.

in the midst of a quiet atmosphere, riddle briefly wondered how long he had been kneeling there for. time only seemed to keep passing by whenever he did what he was supposed to do, as per the elders' words.

he recalled the event a few years ago, how he, along with several children around his age, was chosen to be this god's followers. over the years, the number of their followers dropped, significantly so, that only riddle and a devoted priest was left. alas, they, too, left, leaving him all alone in this deserted temple.

riddle was baffled, how could someone just... abandon their god, the one they had sworn utmost loyalty to like that? especially when the god they prayed for favoured absolute balance, wouldn't the injustice left them wither with hatred? wouldn't they punish those who dared leaving them in favour of the others?

as far as riddle knew, regardless of what they represented, they were still a god, and they should have been treated as such. he looked up at their statue, their altar lit with candles and a plate of blood offering— his blood, and on his face gleamed a determined look.

he chanted his prayers, one that he had learned by heart, over and over again. if only his god could give him a chance. a chance to prove himself, his loyalty to them, and only them.

he heard a soft chuckle, and the next thing he knew, arms embraced him from behind. they were wrapped around his torso and over his eyes, like a pair of poisonous snakes, slowly tightening the squeeze as to puncture his lungs had his ribs had cracked from the pressure.

but the thing that finally set him on edge, was their presence. it was so familiar, he swore he had it on the tip of his tongue. but something about that presence was... off.

"my, my... it seems that i still have such a devoted mortal as my subject."

riddle felt his heart dropped. they called him a mortal, as if they themself was not one. the gears were turning as the rest of their words finally weight on him.

it was them.

"y-you're—" he wanted to turn around, to see his beloved god, to bask in their glowing glory. but the restraints that was their arms held him tight in his place.

"now, now, my dear." they chuckled again. "i do not want my precious final follower be burned for his little mistake."

riddle felt a piece of fabric was tied around his eyes. internally, he was a bit miffed that he couldn't see them with his own two eyes, but he would respect their wishes. however, there was a faint metallic smell wafted to his senses, and now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen the old patron priest anywhere, it was dead silent since he came here.

riddle felt himself being picked up and cradled in one's arms. their comforting presence calmed him down, as he let the god carry him as they wanted. he yawned, a sudden wave of drowsiness hit him.

succumbing to a dreamless sleep, he never got to see the soft smile his god had on their face. their eyes, however, held an unsettling emotion.

"I will not let you leave me. My dearest Crimson Priest."

🏷️ @dove-da-birb @identity-theft-101 @cookiesandbiscuits + riddle kissers ig

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works! ^-^

#irene's writings ♡#twst #twisted wonderland #twst au #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle x reader #riddle x reader #elysium ❤️‍🔥

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 5 months ago

Text

Prologue: April 2005 (Six Months Before Jason Gideon’s Return)

Season One Masterlist

Next: Prologue Part Two

Summary: Zoe’s interview for the BAU with Aaron Hotchner, somehow not a robot and she meets Spencer Reid.

Warning: Mentions of serial killers and child victims of serial killers.

"A little nepotism never hurt nobody, honey. If you got it, use it. Press on with it. Remind them of it."— Lena Horne

April 13, 2005

Nineteen-and-a-half-year-old Xiomara Alexandra Noble-Valdez, or simply “Zoe” bounced nervously as she and her father Alexander Noble, Senior Supervisory Special Agent and one of the co-founders of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Quantico, Virginia stood next to her.

“Zoe, calm down, you’re going to do great.”

“Well, you’re not hiring me, now are you? You’re just the Senior Supervisory Special Agent.”

“Well, Stauss thinks I’m too neurotic to handle Unit Chief.” Alexander said, defensively.

Zoe continued, still looking at her father. “Hotch is going to the one interviewing me and the guy’s like a stone statue… Hey, Agent Hotchner!” She hadn’t noticed the elevator doors opening in her anxiety.

Nothing. No reaction. Newly appointed Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, but everyone called him Hotch was standing there, waiting for them. He just held up a clipboard and scribbled something down, turned and walked off without another word. She was right about that—dude was a stone statue.

“Am I supposed to follow, what the hell…” She mumbled.

“Go.” Alexander pushed his daughter and she clumsily staggered out of the elevator after Hotch.

Halfway across the bullpen, she stumbled after Hotch before tripping over absolutely nothing at all as opposed to her untied high tops and falling to the floor, her notebooks went flying, her rave-colored idea journal skidding across the floor.

“Today, please!” Hotch somehow shouted in his near emotionless voice as he walked up the steps.

She gathered up her more essential notebooks and papers and tried to hurry after him but instead she bumped into a very handsome (in a nerdy kind of way but handsome all the same), tall, lean man with brown hair that seemed to be greased back to look professional but Zoe couldn’t help but think that it may be curly naturally, she also noted it may project his lack of social awareness and fashion, possibly a lack of caring what others thought of him (or at least perhaps that’s what he told himself), holding coffee with too much sugar in it in a thermos as he read a book faster than any average human could. He was no average human. Far from it.

“OOF!” He exclaimed from the impact due to her walking so fast and he dropped his thermos.

“Oh!” Zoe gasped, jutting her foot out and catching it, balancing it perfectly on the top of her high top, now suddenly with impressive balance as opposed to her extreme clumsiness just moment prior.

“Wow.” The handsome bookworm said. “Uh, nice one.” He awkwardly picked up the thermos.

“Yeah, sorry, I have to go.” She said and spun around him, expertly and ran to Hotch’s office where he was waiting impatiently.

Twenty-three-year-old Spencer Reid looked down, noting a rather colorful notebook near his desk on the floor.

“Wait, miss! You forgot your…” Hotch’s office door slammed shut and the blinds closed. “Notebook.” He looked at the cover, “‘Zoe’s Crime Profile Book’.” He read and muttered to himself, “Huh. Her name must be Zoe. Of Greek origin, meaning ‘life’.” It was just a nickname as she didn’t particularly love her real first name.

He couldn’t help himself, he deduced that it was unlikely to be something personal like a diary, so he opened the notebook and he found some notes of unsolved cases from the famous ones such as Jack the Ripper, the Zodiac Killer, D.B. Cooper, the Black Daliah, the Bloody Benders, the Alcatraz prison break, and the Axe Murders of New Orleans To obscure cases such as the disappearance of Louie Le Prince, the murder of Artemus Ogletree in room 1046, the Boy in the Box, Bobby Dunbar, Walter Collins, the Circleville Letters, and the disappearance of the Sodder children.

Jack the Ripper. Zoe theorized that she was a woman or H.H. Holmes, America’s first serial killer.

Theory one: Note that this was the 1800s and in stressful situations, they tend to see things and they would expect it to be a male killing. Female midwives were a common job amongst women due to females not being allowed to have as many job options as men did, in fact most midwives at that time were women, therefore seeing a woman with blood on her wouldn’t be too strange to people. Dressing up as a man wouldn’t have been too hard either, many women have successfully done it, Jack the Ripper was described as being five foot seven with a dark overcoat (possibly hiding the Ripper’s body, making their gender ambiguous and people would assume they were a man), and a deerstalker hat (seeing themes between Jack the Ripper and Sherlock Holmes 😉, if the Ripper was a woman, she could’ve put her hair in a bun and hidden it within the hat

Theory two: H.H. Holmes had been theorized to be in London, however this seems more of a convenient suspect. Jack the Ripper and H.H. Holmes had very different methods of killing so this theory seems rather unlikely but leave no stone unturned.

Spencer sat at his desk, flipping through the notebook, almost literally with his ability to read twenty-thousand words per minute—there were detailed explanations of the crimes and theories involving what had happened if it was unsolved and/or theories about the killer’s behavior and psychology with a bit of dark sarcasm and sardonicism here and there.

“What’d you reading there, Reid? Some Star Trek thing.” Morgan appeared.

“No. A girl went to Hotch’s office and she dropped it.” Spencer answered, absent-mindedly as blunt and socially awkward as ever.

“Whoa, dude, that’s not okay.” Morgan said, leaning away as if he thought Spencer’s act would infect and incriminate him.

Spencer realized how it looked. Like he was invading the privacy of some random girl. And he kind of was. “No. No. It’s about crime. She makes notes about theories. Look.” Spencer spluttered, blushing in embarrassment, “She’s… they’re smart and well-thought out.”

——————————————————————————————————

In Hotch’s office, it was going as well as you would expect a job interview with Hotch would, with him playing mind games and implying that she wasn’t “psychologically well” enough for this job due to her past.

"I may have gone through and still am going through a tragedy, Hotch but I am more than capable." She snapped.

"You didn't do twenty weeks of training." He pointed out.

"You're right, I finished it in six weeks and I got all my degrees in six months rather than the usual two years since I was six because I don't do normal pace. My brain works faster than the average person."

"We already have a youthful genius on the team."

"Do you have a trained medical doctor on the team because as of nearly two years ago, I am. You'll need one, you deal with murders, rapists, shooters, kidnappers, and serial killers, someone will get hurt. Be it be one of the team, police officers, bystanders, hostages or victims. I still can shoot as accurately as ever and I've been adept at profiling since forever. I am the daughter of two of the founders of the BAU, nearly all of my mother’s family are in law enforcement. I have been kidnapped by different kinds of killers my entire life. They’ve told me their plans, their thoughts. I know how they think. I was three when I first identified my first criminal. A pedophile. My dad ever tell you about it?”

“Yes. He was very proud of you.” Hotch confirmed before poking the… Well, “bear” isn't really how you’d describe Zoe, more like a lazy, sarcastic, apathetic wolf that will suddenly act out violently with protective instincts without warning. "I've known you since you were ten years old. The only reason you're here is because of your dad, how would that look if the newest profiler is the Senior Supervisory Special Agent/BAU co-founder’s daughter?" He was playing a tactic on her and she saw it, very easily. "It's still technically nepotism."

"That argument is debatable, if I am the best candidate for the job, then one could argue that it's not nepotism, but people will always claim that it is. It's only illegal if I weren't qualified but I am. I know I'm young but I'm damned qualified. My youth only highlights that I am smarter than the average candidate."

Hotch looked at her as she stared him down with a challenging icy fire in her eyes that was as cold as it was hot but she remained calm. Zoe leaned forwards and put her intertwined hands on the desk, knowing he wanted her to profile him.

"You have a sonogram in the frame semi-hidden behind a picture of your high school sweetheart and wife, Haley, so she must be pregnant. Felicidades, by the way, that means ‘congratulations’. Based off the pear-shaped baby in it, I am a medical doctor, after all, I say she's about four months pregnant, and should give birth around late September or early October, definitely sometime before my birthday. Now onto you.” She leaned closer, making eye contact, “You're scared, you're worried, no, more than that—you're terrified. You're scared of what having a baby will reveal in you. Something you've feared for a long, long time. That you'll be like someone you grew to abhor, most likely a male figure in your family. Almost certainly a father. You've always disliked abusive fathers so most certainly you were abused by your father. You have a younger brother, and given how many times you've saved Gideon’s, Rossi’s, and my dad's lives with little concern for your own or the pain, I'm assuming you took the brunt of your dad's abuse instead of your brother. You became a lawyer to please him but he wasn't impressed. Once your brother was out of the house and free of his abuse, you were able to be what you wanted. Somehow, you got this line of work... he wasn't just abusive, he was violent, extremely violent, you didn't fear for your life the most but the lives of your mother and brother. You prided yourself on being a better man than him so far, you've never hit Haley, but now you have a baby on the way, so you're scared that having a baby may show you that you're more like him than you thought. You're in this line of work to catch people who weren't as lucky with how they turned out. People who just responded to what they learned, what was subconsciously normalized into their minds as a child, that violence is normal, serial killers almost always have violent or extremely abusive childhoods, so you wanted to stop them. That's why you do this job. To catch those who weren't as lucky as you to dissociate the violence from love or normality, you knew it wasn't normal, but you knew there was nothing that could be done to stop him, so you want to stop those who are worse than your father, from hurting innocent families. Some people grow up to be killers and some grow up to catch killers. You catch killers so less families have to be afraid like you were your entire childhood. That’s the real reason you do this and it terrifies you that there are some you can’t save.”

Hotch stared at her, shocked at all of this. No one had ever deduced that much of him in all his years at the BAU, but then again, Zoe had always been wildly preceptive, but he hid his shock almost at once.

"But you've known me for ten years and again, your dad has worked with me for ten years`. You could've gotten it from him." He said, knowing full well that while Alexander did know of his abuse from his own deductions over the years and Hotch knew of Alexander's abuse from his family which also drove him to catch mentally ill killers, Alexander would never tell Zoe that. But even he hadn’t deduced the fear Hotch had.

"Oh yeah? You mentioned a genius earlier. I haven't been in this building since 2001, right after I escaped but I was focusing on finishing my degrees to be a profiler, high school, and medical school. I'm guessing the genius is that new guy with the terrible haircut with far too much gel, I say around twenty-two, twenty-three, he's a genius who can read quicker than most, smartest guy here, he’s probably usually the smartest guy in any room he’s in, probably graduated high school early, I say either late elementary school age or middle school age. He's only been recently allowed into the field, hasn't he? He doesn't have a gun on him, meaning that he hasn't passed the firearms qualifications yet. He likely has a neurological disorder, I'm not going to say which one I suspect because I said like five words to him and even for a qualified someone with a father who’s a profiler, it’s unfair to make a conclusion that fast and it's not my place to make judgements on potential co-workers, only on possible UnSubs and even then you can't get everything right. He was reading a book about the mathematics of quantum physics, possibly his specialty is stating the likelihood of how someone was killed or kidnapped. Statistics, maybe. I saw a glimpse of him as I walked through the bullpen and he turned the page a few times. So clearly he must be able to read fast. He doesn’t have a gun, so clearly he hasn’t passed his qualifications or at least barely passed which in that case means he only gets one when you go out in the field.”

She raised her eyebrows like, how’d I do?

"Why'd you choose him?"

"Because he's new, therefore the less I know about. Morgan's been here a few years. Gideon's on medical leave and Garcia has been here for over a year now plus she works in the back so I didn’t see her. I know all of them plus none of them have quite the IQ like him."

"Alright. Thank you for your time. I'll let you know." Hotch said.

Zoe stood up and started to leave. "Oh, and I knew what you were doing. You were trying to manipulate me into profiling you and while unrelated the boy genius," She nodded in the floppy-haired boy's direction, "You didn't, I just knew it'd be best way to prove to you that I'm not here just because my dad is the Senior Supervisory Special Agent, he, like my mother was talented in profiling and mental health. I didn't get the job, I just got an interview and he's not the one interviewing me. It's you, Hotch. And just because I have two neurological disorders along with some possible other disorders from my trauma, doesn't mean it'll interfere with my abilities, there's reason to believe they'll enhance them. If I get the job, my disorders will inspire me to be empathetic to psychotics and UnSubs, my trauma will allow it easy for me to empathize with those who have suffered. I spent eight months in captivity of lunatics and we both know that was not the first time I have ever been kidnapped, so I know how they think and what they do. Zarah is still missing so I know what it feels like to have someone I love more than anything be in the hands of a lunatic and I would be motivated to save others who are missing and to bring them back to their families.”

“Thank you, Miss Noble-Valdez. We’ll let you know.” Hotch said.

She got up and started to leave before turning back, “You didn't manipulate me, I just played along." With that she walked out.

Alexander walked in a few moments later, "I told you she'd impress you."

"I must admit I did have my reservations and she's quite adept for nineteen." Hotch said, "I'll give her the call that she got the job on the first of May."

——————————————————————————————————

Zoe walked out and noticed the new guy reading her crime notes notebook she had dropped, she had expected this as it said it was a crime book.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to go through a lady’s crime book?” She teased.

Spencer fumbled with the book and nearly fell out of his seat when it jumped out of his hands and he tried to reach for it.

“I-I-I’m sorry. I-I was just so curious. And, you have some really good theories. I quite like the Jack the Ripper was a woman one. And Walter Collins was kidnapped, molested, and murdered by Gordon Northcott. And you have some compelling facts that Vincent Van Gogh was actually murdered and covered it up to protect the boys that shot him because he was close to the boy’s brother.”

Zoe was at first teasing him but then she raised an eyebrow. “Those are like twenty pages apart. I noticed you read fast but that’s insane.

"I can read twenty thousand words per minute, I also have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187. That-that's not a brag, it's just a stated fact. I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified… here.” He handed the notebook back to her.

She took it as she scanned him, carefully which made him blush and feel embarrassed. “Thanks… um… this would be when you offer your name.”

“Oh, right. Doctor Spencer Reid.” He said, chuckling embarrassedly as his cheeks tinged slightly.

“Zoe. I interviewed for a job, hopefully I’ll work here soon.”

“As an agent?” Spencer asked in surprise, “You look a little young.”

“So do you. You’re not the only genius here.” She said and walked off towards the elevator.

“Wait, I didn’t get your last name.”

“If Hotch hires me, then you’ll find out, niño genio.” She called back without looking at him.

Spencer smiled as he watched Zoe walk off, the blush still evident on his face.

“Ooh, Pretty Boy’s got a crush!” Morgan teased when the elevator doors closed on Zoe.

“A crush on who?” The Media Liaison, Jennifer Jareauor as her friends called her JJ, asked, curiously.

“I don’t have a crush. I just met her, and I almost tripped over her!” He then ducked back to his desk, still thinking about the young genius girl he just met.

——————————————————————————————————

May 1, 2005

Zoe had talked to both her dad and Hotch and told them that for the time being, she wanted to be known as “Zoe Valdez”—her mother’s rather common surname, just so she wouldn’t be suspected of nepotism. She wanted to prove herself first and trust issues weren’t uncommon in agents of the BAU, she herself had trust issues and used use intimidation, false apathy, and sarcasm to distance herself from others. So there was already some tension there with her being new add in the fact that she was a nineteen-year-old girl. She didn’t want people to think she got the job because of her dad. She just got an interview. She wanted them to know that she was smart and qualified enough, not because of who her parents were.

Zoe stopped walking when she was just outside the building. Her dad turned around and looked at her, "What's wrong?"

“I’ve… I’ve been dreaming of having a real job here since I was a baby.” She said, staring at the building she was practically raised in.

“Come on, Zoe. You've profiled criminals accurately since childhood. Your profile of the Footpath Killer was so on point. It helped Gideon catch him.”

She nodded and took a deep breathe and looked at her father, pointedly and told him yet again that morning—she had already told him that when they had met that morning after they both had woken up, before breakfast, after breakfast, before they left the house, twice in the car, and as they got out of the car.

“Please, don't call me any nicknames other than Doctor Valdez or Zoe or Valdez and no calling me 'angel' when I'm in danger. No paternal interactions or saying. Please, Daddy?"

"Yes, Zoe, I know.” Alexander groaned and sighed, “You'll tell them eventually?"

"I promise."

Alexander smiled, "Your mother would be so proud of you, angel."

"Daddy." She scolded.

"Fine. Fine." He chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender, "you go on ahead, I'll be down in five minutes."

"No special treatment either." She reminded him as she walked towards the building.

"We both know you're too rebellious enough for me to follow that rule." Alexander called after her.

Zoe entered the doors and found Hotch, waiting for her, the same way he had when waiting for her to come to interview for the job. Like he was a statue that had just been moved.

"You ready? Agent Valdez?"

"Doctor Valdez. I'm medically trained." She reminded him in a sort of teasing professional tone.

"Just come on. Meet the team." Hotch said and they entered the elevator, "I'm aware that you want to be known as Valdez, rather than Noble-Valdez, Zoe, for now. We will respect your wishes but you can't keep this up forever."

"I know. Just... just until I feel like I've proved myself. I don't want them to think I got this job because of my dad or because of…” She paused. “Mom."

"Of course." Hotch said.

The elevator door opened to see the bullpen but that wasn’t where Zoe’s eyes went to immediately. It was to the memorial wall of agents who had died during duty, the one with her mother’s demon dog-eyed photo on it. Then it was too the bullpen where Garcia was already hissing at Morgan, hysterically like a wild goose in very colorful clothing and wild gestures.

“That’s Penelope Garcia, right? The techie I helped you guys catch?” Zoe asked. She had indeed helped them catch Garcia when she was still gothy and a criminal.

"Let's see what that's about, shall we?" Hotch sighed, giving Zoe the impression he had explicitly advised Garcia to not freak out.

They walked towards the group. Morgan seemed to think Garcia was blowing this way out of proportion but didn’t interrupt.

"We don’t even know this woman? I mean, is she nice!?”

“I don’t know, Garcia.” Morgan said, “She didn’t even talk to me. She just flustered Reid.”

“I can't have some stranger come into my family. I looked her up and her records were clearly wiped, and her file is encrypted. I don't even know the first thing about her..."

"Which is what you're supposed to have upon meeting someone for the first time, Garcia." Hotch said, giving her a disapproving look.

Garcia turned around, her cheeks red with embarrassment, then her eyes landed on Zoe who looked to be the total opposite of Garcia, wearing a leather jacket and dyed hair and a somewhat sarcastic smile.

Garcia shot her hand out in between them. "Hi, Penelope Garcia, tech analysis." She peeped.

"I figured." Zoe said, shaking her hand.

"Hi, Derek Morgan. You look familiar, agent.”

"I get that a lot." She lied as her mother’s picture was just a few yards away and she shook his hand, “And it’s Doctor, actually.”

Morgan had never actually officially met Zoe and when the team had been called after she showed up, he was back in Chicago using his vacation days.

“Doctor? How old are you exactly?” Morgan asked.

“Uh, nineteen. I turn twenty this year.”

“The minimum age is twenty-three.”

“With exceptions. I don’t mean to brag but I’m a bit of a genius.”

“Well, we already have a doctor-slash-agent-slash-genius on this team but…” Morgan started.

“I’ve been a licensed medical doctor since I was seventeen and when I was five I started taking dual college classes along with the normal preschool and kindergarten classes. If I had wanted to, I could've graduated high school by the time I was nine and I had already graduated from several colleges by that time.” Zoe said with a quirked eyebrow. “I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to have two doctors-slash-agents-slash-geniuses on the team now would it?”

Morgan and Garcia just stared at her.

"Doctor Reid is late, but let's introduce you to our Media Liaison." Hotch said.

A pretty blonde woman and blue eyes around three or four years older than Zoe with a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Jennifer Jareau but everyone calls me 'JJ'. I'm the Media Liaison."

"Right. You pick which cases are most urgent and you deal with the press, deciding what and what not goes out to the press if you can help it. Meaning, that journalists and reporters are usually like piranhas and will go to any lengths to get the story even if it puts people in danger." Zoe explained.

"That's right." JJ said, surprised. "Not many people know that."

Zoe stepped closer to her, "I'm not most people."

"You're back!" Spencer's voice raised a few octaves as on his way to his desk, holding a to-go cup of coffee he recognized the girl Morgan and JJ had been teasing him about for two weeks and two days.

"Hi again, Doctor Spencer Reid, right?" Zoe said, ignoring her father appearing, giving them a sharp glare as if he suspected something was up between them already.

"Yeah, do I get your last name now?"

She hesitated just a moment before saying her mother's rather common surname. "Valdez" as opposed to her father's uncommon surname.

"Huh, that's funny. One of the founders' names was Valdez but she died nineteen years ago, six months, and one day ago." Spencer said and he was about to ask if there was a relation but Zoe spoke up, dismissing it before anyone could glance at the photo of her mother and notice the similarities between the two.

"It's a common Spanish name.” She shrugged.

“Oh, my stepfamily were Spanish. They adopted me after my parents died. They were lovely. And you seem as lovely and exotic as my last name is.” Garcia said, cheerfully. “They used to celebrate the Day of the Dead, you know that?”

“Día de los Muertos. Yes, my mom’s parents are from Mexico. I celebrate it every year and I actually carry this.” She took out a small sugar skull keepsake attached to a clip that attached to her belt loop. “I keep a few of these on me. I always give them to those who have lost a loved one.” She put a hand in her satchel and took out two of them and handed them to Garcia, who took them and stared at them almost intensely, like she couldn’t quite understand what she was holding. “here. In Mexican culture departed souls in the circle of life. These are traditionally made out of sugar to represent the sweetness of life. I like to believe that they watch over their still living loved ones and protect us.”

Garcia was seconds from bursting into tears as Morgan scoffed and Spencer looked at Zoe in utter amazement like she was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, but then Hotch appeared.

"Conference room. We've got a case. You can set up your desk later, Valdez." Hotch said, gruffly, striding off towards the conference room.

——————————————————————————————————

Translations (Via Google Translate):

Felicidades — Congratulations — Spanish

Niño genio — Boy Genius — Spanish

Día de los Muertos — Day of the Dead — Spanish

Image Sources:

Spencer Reid: @themoontaxi

*Any suggestions for songs to attach to this story?*

*These stories aren't very popular, compared to my Campbell Bain x Reader stories, those are my post popular ones, I think because Tumblr is more Reader fanfic centric than Wattpad but some people seem to enjoy these. So I'm adding links to the season masterlist and the previous and next post in the series.*

Edited: November 6, 2024

Prologue Part Two

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renaultphile · 1 year ago

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The Surrendered Sword: The Chapter 14 showdown

For me, the ‘break-up’ confrontation is an absolute tour de force, worthy of Greek tragedy. I am fascinated by the status games in The Charioteer, so I wanted to try to work through the last part of the book through the lens of the power struggle that seems to obsess Laurie. I'll post this in three parts as it is somewhat long....

Part One - battle lines are drawn

The illusion of suspense

Even as he enters the room, Laurie is desperate to signal to Ralph what his answer will be, but he finds it impossible. He doesn’t want to keep Ralph in suspense. But Ralph looks at his face and invites him to sit down and they have their moment together. How likely is it that Ralph hasn’t realised immediately what Laurie’s answer was going to be? He practically says it to Laurie.

The opening salvo

It’s easy to forget that we never learn what Laurie says after this. Ralph’s voice dominates and he means business - "Don't be silly, Spud. I know you love me, and so do you."/"Don't waste time, Spud. It's childish to start an argument about whether we love each other, the moment I go and sit on the other side of the room.” Laurie is firmly in the head-boy’s study. Ralph moves on to Alec’s party: “You surely don’t think I went there for the conversation did you?” and then he uses the old ‘disciplinary trick’ of waiting ‘as if he expecting a reply’. This feels like the ground Ralph is most comfortable on. But it falls flat because it’s so clear that Laurie went to the party to see him and ignored several opportunities to run away.

I’m not romantic

Ralph changes tack completely and starts to open up, whilst using the most practical, unemotional language he can - ‘I suppose’, ‘I don’t know’, ‘One can’t be sure’. The reader knows better, and so does Laurie. With that word ‘settle’ he drops his first hint of wanting more than friendship. Thank you to those people who helped me realise that none of this is meant to make sense! All we need to know is that Ralph says more than he means to, it registers on Laurie’s face, and he shuts down. And now we know what a deep reserve of feeling is there, and how determined Ralph is not to show it.

Can’t win on a foul

This is the point at which he decides that Ralph will respect him less if he weakens. At the very moment when he glimpses Ralph’s vulnerability he is thinking that he must stand up to him. Which might sound contradictory, but makes sense if we think that it is Ralph’s pride he is protecting at all costs. I wonder if this is what he thinks of as ‘winning on a foul’, the way Ralph put Bunny down so ruthlessly, and the real message is that it’s Laurie who can’t respect someone who lowers his status, rather than the other way round.

Relax, Spuddy

Then Ralph shifts to more comfortable territory, Laurie, "Relax, Spuddy. Don't be so tense” And that line, which seems to be said completely out of context, “I like you the way you are, Spud; why would I want to make you less yourself? I'm not attracted to people I can push around."

Tactical retreat and ‘reasonableness’

Laurie disagrees, and Ralph appears to make a tactical retreat. But I notice that he says “You’re about to make a decision”, completely ignoring the fact that Laurie is there to tell him the decision he has already made. And this is where we realise that we really have no clue what Laurie has actually managed to say at all so far. We only know he intended to turn Ralph down before he got up the stairs. And Ralph resorts to ‘putting the facts’ for Laurie to consider.

Click here for part two……. and here for part three

#Status and power struggles #ralph lanyon #laurie odell #mary renault #the charioteer #tc fandom reread

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Sometimes Ewan looks like a unique Greek statue and other times just a normal British lad I can’t decide which one he is 😭 if you saw him on the street would you break your neck or not even give a second glance?

An amalgamation of both, perhaps? I struggle to recognise most people in the street, if I'm honest, so I would absolutely walk past him without a second glance. I do it to people I actually know, unintentionally. Unless you get right up in my face and make your presence known to me, I will absolutely ignore you - I don't mean to. I think I have some sort of face blindness? I once gestured towards a guy while I was out and said to my friend "we can't over there, that guy I slept with the other day is stood there and it'd be too awkward" and he was like "what are you on about? That's just a guy with long hair and a beard. Do they all look the same to you?!"

And I suppose they do, yes. I pick out focal features, but the smaller details I miss. I'm not convinced I am actually able to recognise people or register what anyone really looks like. The only reason I'm able to carry on friendships and relationships is because the same people continue to approach me.

In short, I would not give Ewan a second glance, because I don't give that to anyone, hahaha.

#asked and answered

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ajgrey9647 · 11 months ago

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i'm not letting you sleep on the floor + boom! comics mmpr; Bulk (I am not choosy about which version)

Nothing's What It Appears

The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and when push came to shove, when all the chips were down, Bulk discovered his true greatness. Though others often treated him as ‘stupid’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘obnoxious’, he was anything but those degrading adjectives. In retrospect, his atrocious behavior and commentary did nothing to persuade otherwise.

He could see that now, when such matters were the last thing on anyone’s mind.

Bulk always aspired to greatness or fame or heroism as if they were his birthrights. He wanted to be noticed, to stand out, to be special. Which he’d succeeded in doing, just not the way he envisioned in his fantasies. The bully often stared out the windows in the wide blue yonder, his brain galivanting off on magical quests where he, and he alone, was able to slay the monsters, rescue the fair damsel, and return to a parade of accolades and admiration.

His grades certainly suffered for it, though in actuality, Bulk was quite intelligent. He loved history even if he couldn’t say such a statement out loud. His friends would tease him mercilessly for being ‘nerdy’. Oddly enough, not one would dare make a pithy comment regarding the teen’s larger frame as they might a less terrifying individual.

That was one thing that Farkas was secretly ashamed of, his weight having been a touchy subject most of his life. As a child, he’d always carried a little more ‘cushioning’ as his mom called it and there was not a thing wrong with a squishy, pinchable little boy. His grandmother, when she came to visit on holidays, typically Thanksgiving and Christmas, when one was SUPPOSED to enjoy the abundance of delicious food, would look at her grandson and just shake her head.

“Mae, that child needs to go on a diet! He’s almost as big as a house!” she’d scold, while Bulk sat awkwardly at the table, dinner plate waiting before him. “How’s he ever supposed to…”

The pair would argue loudly, garnering the attention of everyone else present and the embarrassed Farkas would feel their eyes looking at him with disgust before surveying the contents and the amounts on his plate with judgement.

Even if he was absolutely starving, Bulk’s appetite would fly the coop and he’d quietly excuse himself from the table only to disappear to his room to sob in secret.

To his mother, food was love and sure, he loved to eat the food she prepared.

“Just for you, sweetie!” she’d coo.

The growing weight only exacerbated his insecurities, the type that most everyone suffered from in childhood. Even then, Bulk would spend hours pouring over his collection of comics, along with Skull, who couldn’t afford such frivolities. Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Iron Man, the Hulk… all sporting ripped abs and mountainous biceps.

‘Whoever heard of a fat superhero,’ Farkas glumly realized. ‘There’s no super cool suit to wear unless you’re built like a Greek statue…’

Skull would gamely pat his hand, at such times leaving his cheeky observations and wit on the back burner. He truly meant what he told Bulk and he meant it with reverence as someone of his particular build could be snapped like a twig.

“Don’t worry, Bulky! If any bad guys tried to take over, you’d could just sit on them! Smash ‘em into the dirt!”

That wasn’t the fighting style of his daydreams… and was certainly never depicted in the comics. Or movies.

Just cartoons and just for making fun of a character.

It was bullshit…

He was tired of being referred to as ‘fat ass’, husky, stout, ‘pig’ and a variety of other wounding descriptors.

Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out to be a hero. Maybe he didn’t deserve to stand out or be special…

When Tommy transferred to Angel Grove High, Bulk had attempted to assert his authority and put the surly teen in his place from the jump. Of course, that went over like a brick wall with the new student unleashing a torrent of curses and insults, may of which the bully had never even heard before.

“If you get in my face again, you fat tub of shit, I swear to all fuck that I will butcher you like they do pigs at market,” Oliver whispered, voice eerily growing calm and his eyes pooling creepy flood of black where Bulk had been sure they’d been hazel.

And this was all way before he’d gotten any possessed coin.

The fucking dick only continue to grow worse, a hateful, spiteful, unfeeling demon masquerading as human. Eventually, he’d sunk his fangs gums deep in Jason and his little cluster of dorks. Bulk thought the group of friends to be annoying and enjoyed pestering them, but this shit was off the charts.

Skull was sure that Tommy was a serial killer or would eventually become one, explaining to Bulk and their assorted crew that the other teen was seriously messed up in the head.

“Oliver’s the type to keep his victims locked in his basement until he tires of them,” Eugene whispered, glancing over as said teen stood at his locker, back to them. “And keep body parts as souvenirs. Stay the fuck away from him!”

The Skullovitch’s lived in the same neighborhood as the Oliver’s and the lanky teen shared with his best all the wild, crazy shit that went on over at their house: the abusive, loud alcoholic father, screeching, slutty looking mother, and Tommy giving as good as he got at times and at others blankly giving in to his punishments.

Every goddamn day it was something with that prick though…

Usually, Tommy would be swinging fists and brawling with Jason up and down the hall or he’d decide it was Zack’s turn to be his punching bag. Bulk was sure he was behind the rumor that Kimberly had been seen sucking Jason’s dick in the locker room at the Youth Center, landing both teens in the counselor’s office. He’d heard from Sharkie that Tommy had even tried to plant drugs in their lockers, but fortunately hadn’t been successful.

Even Matthew Cook tried to step in and intervene between this dervish and the other teens and ended up with a black eye, split lip, and a detention to show for it.

Bulk wished he were brave enough to throw Oliver into a locker, toss him in a trash can where he belonged. That was his new fantasy, throwing himself between that asshole and Jase and his pals. He’d bloody Tommy’s face and force him to apologize for his bullshit in front of everyone!

Oh, how he wished!

Then the day came that Skull, scrawny, boney-butt Skull, went one on one with the Green Ranger, saving the Blue Ranger from certain death by shoving the evil monster from the second floor of the mall. It had all been caught on tape and was played on the news for weeks.

Bulk crowed from the rooftops how proud he was of his best friend, and he truly was. He just wished he’d been there, been brave enough to do such a dumbass thing. Skull didn’t seem to like the attention all that much and shied away from the spotlight, something Farkas couldn’t understand.

But little did he know he’d get his chance to be a hero. He’d get more than one as would Eugene…

The time came when he and Skull saved Jason from Tommy’s punk-ass sneak attack at the Youth Center. Sure, they hadn’t went toe to toe with the nutty fuck, but he hadn’t gotten to Jase and that’s what mattered. The dark-haired teen wouldn’t discuss why he and Oliver were at odds and seemed shaken up that he’d been lying in wait for him.

However, it seemed that for no apparent reason Tommy eventually turned his wrath on Skull. And that was just not going down on Bulk’s watch.

Eugene had seemed more distant than usual, though he denied anything was amiss. Farkas had no way of knowing that the smaller boy had discovered the Rangers’ identities and had started a budding relationship with Billy, the Blue Ranger. Of course, Skull wanted to spend more and more time with his boyfriend, the pair meeting in secret and enjoying something that was just theirs.

That all changed when he discovered the bruise to Skull’s shoulder, left when Tommy paid him a visit, viciously shoving the smaller teen down in his own bedroom.

“Where the hell you’d get that battle wound, Ranger Rescuer,” Bulk teased, pointing to the dusky purple marring the pale skin.

“Ehhh… I dunno. Don’t remember.”

He was obviously lying, his grey eyes looking everywhere but his friend’s face. They were sitting in the lunchroom at school, the loud laughing and razzing of other students had nearly drowned out Skull’s lackluster response.

“Bullshit, buddy! Who hurt you? Cause I’m gonna beat the brakes off ‘em!”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bulky. I’m fine! Can we just drop it?” Eugene whimpered.

But Bulk caught Skull glancing in Oliver’s direction, the venomous asshole seated at a table on the far side of the room, alone of course.

“It was him, wasn’t it! He hurt you! What the fuck is his problem?”

Pushing back from the table, he was on fire now. Skull scrambled to grab Bulk’s leather jacket, trying to pull him back down, pleading for him not to go over there, it wasn’t fucking worth it!

“Nah, this shit has gone on long enough! He’s never putting hands on you again, Skull!”

But before he could make his way over to where Tommy sat, the long-haired teen, with no apparent reason or trigger, shoved away from his lunch, darted across the lunchroom, and began pummeling Jason, grabbing him from behind by his hair and yanking him backward off his stool. Jase hit the floor hard and his head bounced off the tile, leaving a bright red streak to Bulk’s horror.

Laying there, Jason could only attempt defensive techniques as Zack, Billy, Trini, and Kimberly ran around to jump on Tommy’s back.

Then here came Bulk, like a charging bull, steaming issuing from his nostrils as he too grabbed a handful of hair, twisting Tommy’s head and neck painfully and pulling hard. Long strands came away with a sickening ripping sound and the green clad teen shrieked in fury, hands going to his scalp and abandoning Jason’s blood-covered face.

The whole lunchroom erupted, some students screaming in fear, others cheering and whooping at Oliver finally getting a come-uppance. It took several teachers and Mr. Kaplan to put an end to the wild free-for-all and it didn’t escape their notice that ALL the blows were directed at Tommy. Of course, fighting was an automatic detention for everyone involved no matter their role.

Jason ended up going to the nurse’s office and from there his worried and angry parents picked him up and took him to the emergency room to get checked out. Tommy’s parents never even answered their phone, not for the school nor the Scotts, who were discussing pressing charges and getting protective orders.

Not that they had enough time for everything to progress at all.

A short time later, Jason destroyed the Sword of Darkness, Tommy made his vile decision, and monsters roamed the earth in numbers the Rangers were unable to manage. The city nearly emptied, as citizens fled in terror. But things got much, much worse….

Just when they thought they were turning a corner, close to gaining the upper hand, they were brutally disappointed, shocked into near catatonic states at the sight of a bloody, shattered red Tyranno helmet and the hateful asshole bedecked in new colors.

Bulk had been there that day, trying his best to gather everyone he could find, to get them somewhere safe. Skull was at his shoulder, his nimble frame crawling into crumbling buildings and nearly smashed flat vehicles, searching for survivors. Trying to find a place to go, they’d ended up with ringside seats to Ascension Day (Ass-cention Day as Skull dubbed it later). Clearly, they’d taken a wrong turn.

“Rangers!” a voice boomed. “Take a look at what’s become of your precious leader!”

Holding the helmet before them, the others stared in disbelief, unable to defend themselves from a barrage of blows and strikes.

“Geez o’fuck, Bulky! Whoever that is killed the Red Ranger! We’re screwed!”

Bulk didn’t answer, watching this newest Ranger twirl as if on a runway in Milan. That voice was familiar.

“I know that voice, Skull!”

Now the floodgates opened. It didn’t matter anymore…

“It’s fucking Oliver, Bulk! That fucking dick motherfucker was the Green Ranger and now he’s… I don’t even fucking know! But Jason’s dead!” he screamed in anguish.

Neither teen nor anyone else noticed the group of putties carrying a severely injured, unconscious Jason Scott into a large transportation pod. It would be decades before the truth was revealed.

Once the dust had settled and he’d assured himself that all the people in his charge had been properly assessed and fed, did Bulk consider thinking about caring for his own needs. His grimy, tattered shirt clung to the sweat-sticky skin of his back, making him itch, and his was streaked with dark, sooty smudges. Mentally and physically he was drained.

Leaning against the wall in a darkened corridor, illuminated only by a small flashlight, Bulk finally allowed himself to cry. The tears tracked in smeary trickles down his full cheeks and hung suspended from lips and chin.

‘This can’t be happening. It can’t be real!’

The remaining Rangers were nestled in his care, carefully tucked into cots in a large conference room of the abandoned facility. They rarely spoke or even responded, so shocked and traumatized by the unexpected turn of events that they merely behaved like dolls or small frightened toddlers.

Besides Kimberly, who spit fire and venom, all the while still sobbing, threats and curses and promises of vengeance filling the air until she’d finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.

How could he have known the Power Rangers were so close? It all made sense now. Oliver’s vicious and unpredictable temperament, the other teens’ frequent disappearances, and unexplained injuries of the past. No wonder Tommy had been obsessing over Jason; the Green Ranger was out to murder the Red…

During the dangerous trek to safety, Skull confessed every damn thing and pleaded forgiveness. To which Bulk replied that was silly, of course he wasn’t angry or going to hold it against him. None of that meant jack-shit now. And his relationship with Billy wasn’t all that surprising, considering all the clues he’d glossed over in ignorance.

Now, Jason was dead, the Rangers near catatonic and almost without all the power coins, and that fucking dick bitch was hunting them down. How the fuck were they going to avoid him forever? There was no way!

“But he’s not getting the others, not no way, not no how! Or Eugene… He’ll have to go through me!” he hissed through his muffled cries.

‘Like that will be hard for him, doofus! He has two fucking coins and he took Jason out! How are you even the slightest threat to this ‘Lord Drakkon’?’

But he was determined to try.

Footsteps echoing down the hall caught his attention and he quickly ran his hands over his reddened, tear covered face, not caring that the darkness would hide most of the evidence.

“You alright, Bulky?”

Skull gingerly moved toward him, his flashlight bobbing as he walked.

“Why are you hiding out down here?”

Farkas sighed and sucked back a deluge of snot. His friend waited patiently, knowing the other teen needed time to process his scattered thoughts.

“Well, Skull, compared to everyone else, I’m fine. I got lucky, just a few minor cuts and bumps,” he grunted, pulling himself off the wall. “I just needed a minute to think. Like its going to make a damn bit of difference.”

“It might.”

“How? How is it going to change anything that’s happened?” Bulk suddenly yelled, unable to stifle his emotions any longer.

Skull spread his arms, the beam from the flashlight wildly arcing along the paint chipped walls.

“I’ll tell you how, buddy! It might make a difference for them,” he argued, pointing back along the hall towards where the survivors hunkered down. “So far, no one else has had grand ideas or has been capable of making a decision about one goddamn thing! Only you!”

The blonde hung his head as he listened to Eugene’s rant.

“Even the Rangers can’t do any of that right now! YOU gathered all of us, YOU got us around Fuckwad’s goons, YOU decided where we needed to get to and got us here, YOU even triaged and treated injuries, YOU cooked a massive meal, YOU, YOU, YOU!”

Wanting to shake the larger teen in annoyance, Skull hissed through clenched teeth.

“You are so BRAVE!”

At that, Bulk’s cheeks colored for a different reason.

“You really think I’m brave, Skully?” he whispered. “I’m no superhero, I don’t have special powers. I’m just a fat, loud-mouthed, smart-ass punk…”

“All that shit doesn’t matter to a hill of beans! Powers and secret identities and superheroes! Look what happened to our friends, the Rangers!” His voice dropped lest it carry back to the demoralized teens.

“Drakkon TOOK their special powers, he KILLED Jason, the goddamn Red fucking Power Ranger! He’s evil and crazy and he’s not going to stop until he gets all the other Rangers too! We’ve gotta be crazier and smarter than him, Bulk! Or we are all FUCKED!” Skull yelled, gripping Bulk’s shoulders now.

“We NEED someone like you, we’re counting on you!” he continued. “So, let’s go lick our wounds in private, then you and I will work together to get everyone as far from that psycho as possible.”

Stepping back, he noted the slumped shoulders and weary features just visible under the flashlight’s glow.

“But first, you have to get some rest, Bulk, or you’re gonna fall right over,” he decided. “Come on, this way.”

Taking his friend’s elbow, Eugene led the way to another room off the corridor. There was a bed with a small side table, a chest of drawers, and a hospital-style curtain divider.

“This is the last bed open and you’re taking it, pal.”

Bulk blinked, his green eyes scratchy with exhaustion and strain.

“What about you, Skull? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor!”

“Who said I was going to sleep?” Eugene asked, though it wasn’t a question. “Someone’s going to need to keep watch. I’ll grab my 40 winks later. Now get your ass in that bed and don’t sass me.”

“Alright, mom..” Bulk deadpanned, too tired to argue further.

Skull was right. About a lot of things really. And that wasn’t something he could normally claim as fact. Clearly the ramifications of Lord Drakkon’s birth and possession of not one, but two coins tied to this mysterious ‘Grid’ Skull described from he remembered of Billy’s explanation, were going to be vast and far reaching. He couldn’t verbalize it accurately, but Bulk could feel the very atmosphere, the ground beneath his feet, the air circulating the blue and green ball of mud, were twisting and writhing as if in death throes, gasping and grunting as all faded to nothingness.

#lord drakkon #boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #ao3 author #world of the coinless jason #ao3 fanfic #world of the coinless farkas bulkmeier #world of the coinless eugene skullovitch #friendship #don't judge a book by its cover #someone has to take charge here #bravery comes in many forms #growth #empowerment #coming into his own

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 2 months ago

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I've realized that many prefer to write Kyle gaining weight and getting fat out of him and Stan, because SHEILA, the mother of Kyle is a big women, therefor Kyle will have these genes too.

I have no problem with Kyle written or drawn over weight, chubby or fat, but it gets tiring with only him getting that treatment and using his mother as the excuse for it.

Stan could end being written like that too for once if you ask me! He doesn't have super fit parents either, and Randy is rocking a beer gut.

Genes or not, there's nothing stopping him getting chubby.

"But Stan is the athletic one, he's boy next door!" - I often hear as a dumb argument.

So what!?

You can be chubby and atletic! You can be and handsome and charming and make everyone swoon with your smile AND be a plus sized!!

Stan could have strong arms, but have nice soft tummy.

This was not supposed to be a rant, but it became one. Sorry for that.

I just want to see more chubby/fat/over weight Stan in fan arts and fics, and him being happy too.

Sorry for my rant again

No I’m RIGHT THERE WITH YOU!!! I’ve said many times that I LOVE soft Stan! Especially if that physique is associated with him being in a good place mentally! Let my son be soft!

And as I’ve said many times, although I have my preferences as to the physical appearances of the boys, I do not care what they look like so long as they’re happy and safe. I’m also a huge proponent of weight gain as a physical manifestation of mental healing, particularly for Stan. I have no idea where the posts are but I’ve mentioned before that if OJV Stan is looking more filled out that’s a good indicator that he’s okay mentally, and the same goes for a lot of my versions of the characters. TWITR Kyle for instance, yes he’s my smallest Kyle by default but him gaining weight is a big part of his healing process over the series.

I like plus sized Stan a lot tbh, especially as long as he’s feeling good and happy. He deserves happiness always the boys all do.

And I LOVE that you specifically said you can be charming and handsome and also plus sized BECAUSE that’s exactly my OJV Cartman headcanon. I am not a fan of “Cartman got skinny as he got older”. No. He’s still fat. He’s forever an abrasive fuckwad. And he’s also charming and charismatic and attractive. This is important to me.

Back to the boy next door argument for Stan (as the ceo of boy next door Stan) THAT DOESNT MEAN HE CANT BE CHUBBY!!! Athletes do not all have the same “ideal” body type!!! I prefer a cornfed hard working bulky comfortable Stan to a super ripped Greek statue Stan. Very obviously strong and built, but softer. Think Kristoff from Frozen. That’s approximately my default Stan body type. For art refs I tend to picture sniffsnoof’s and bunytime’s Stans on here, ESPECIALLY when I’m on my OJV bullshit. Soft, strong, THICK. Just one hug Stan pls

#I’m so in agreement man #south park #PCE answers things

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the-stage-manager · 6 months ago

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I fucking LOVE this take and I think it's BRILLIANTLY written! Seriously! You are so eloquent and you put this brilliantly!

I'm a slut for debate and, admittedly, I just can't resist adding in my own two cents because, frankly, you wrote this so well it really made me want to analyze how I view Gale's character. I have to admit, I kind of disagree with you, I think that hubris IS one of Gale's core personality traits, but I don't think that's a bad thing. In fact, I think Gale's story is an absolutely brilliant example of how the way we view humility and hubris is fundamentally flawed.

TLDR: I think hubris is a good thing.

The word comes from ancient Greek literature, where it is used to describe mortal men who believe themselves to be equal or better than the gods. Oedipus' father is a fantastic example of classic hubris—he goes to the Oracle to learn his fate, is told by the gods that he will be murdered by his son, and rather than merely accepting the will of the gods, he sought to do everything in his power to avoid that fate. Namely, he nailed the feet of his newborn son to a piece of wood, and shipped him off into the wilderness. Ironically, it was this action that sealed his fate. Oedipus was discovered by a stranger, raised into manhood, and eventually return to Thebes where he would strike his father down for blocking the road.

In order for "hubris" to even exist, we must not only accept the existence of a spiritual hierarchy, but innate inferiority of humanity. Humility, the act of accepting our status as inferior and lowly, has been touted as among the most noble of virtues for literal millennia. However, the virtue of humility becomes extremely problematic when we stop and take a look at the behavior of the gods. While the Greek gods have always been deeply, deeply flawed, the Roman Poet Ovid was especially notorious for his uncharitable depictions of the gods. In his interpretation of the story of medusa, for example, Athena turns the mortal woman Medusa into a gorgon as punishment for being raped in her temple. How fucked up is that? So when the Greeks talk about humility, the people we are supposed to accept ourselves as being lesser than, are horrible. Seriously, Zeus rapes so many people and animals and objects! AndGreek philosophers wanted us to believe that we're all just supposed to accept that, yeah, Zeus is better than us for no other reason than the fact that he's powerful.

Literally, the only thing the gods have going for them, are there supernatural abilities, and the fact that they were ordained by higher beings. The gods were nothing more than cruel, oppressive dictators. The act of rising up against your oppressors is one of the most noble and heroic things that a person can do. Nobody would EVER use the word "hubris" when describing people like Susan B. Anthony or Harriet Tubmen, but at the end of the day, "hubris" was always meant to describe people who believed that they could be better than what society told them they were—people who believe that they deserved better.

I am absolutely not going to put fucking Gale of Waterdeep on the same sort of pedestal as Harriet Tubman or Susan B Anthony, because that would be fucking stupid. But the argument I'm trying to make is this: "humility" is a word that leaders and philosophers like to use to prevent dissent. It's a virtue to be humble, it's a virtue to shut up and accept your lot in life. "Humility" is doing what you're told without too much fuss.

In Greek mythology, "hubris" is seen as this huge, moral failure. How dare Oedipus's father not want to be murdered by his child! How dare Icarus, the literal child, accidentally forget his father's advice and fly too high after being given the literal gift of fucking flight! How dare Orpheus feel a little bit insecure and turn back just to make Eyridyce was really there! How dare these stupid, mortal men question there cruel, uncaring Gods! Gods who, mind you, had a habit communicating their Divine will through cryptic and esoteric riddles.

Gale is hungry for knowledge. He wants to know more about the Weave. Not alone is not something that I would consider to be a "fatal flaw"! However, his reasons for pursuing the netherite weave we're even more human and understandable: he was trying to impress his lover! His lover who intentionally withheld things from him, who maintained a power imbalance so extreme that he was little more than an animal to her. Their relationship was mentally abusive at best—she groomed him, isolated him, then kept him and arms length when he wanted nothing more than to devote himself holy to her. He was a thing for her to use, nothing more.

His desire for equality, for knowledge, absolutely was hubris—he wanted to make himself equal to a goddess. And I don't think that's a character flaw. Mistra is no better than the Greek gods she's based off of—quad, manipulative, and abusive. Gale at the audacity to want equality from her, and his punishment was death. How is that fair? It isn't! I don't think it's wrong to believe in one's self, I don't think it's wrong to seek knowledge, I don't think it's wrong to desire to be equal to your oppressors.

Hubris is not synonymous with narcissism, nor is it the scathing moral failure we all believe it is. Gale's hubris is his core personality trait, as it should be!

it’s been almost a year now… is the bg3 fandom finally ready to talk about how gale’s “hubris” is the sole product of actively feeding his insecurities further and straight up denying him help & guidance when he was at his lowest and needed it most. it’s not one of his core traits and never was. he isn’t some closeted power hungry monster that is just waiting to be enabled. what he wants is admiration, recognition and acceptance. which is also what he sought from mystra before the orb disaster happened. he had no desire whatsoever to become a god himself or challenge her rule, he simply wanted to be seen as sufficient in her eyes (“to serve her better”). to be as equal as he could possibly be in a relationship with a literal deity. he has a deep passion for magic and knowledge that affects almost all areas of his life and enjoys the display thereof. he wants to be the smartest person in the room and enjoys when his work is recognized. he may be perceived as arrogant when it comes to his skill, but he IS NOT hubristic. it truly takes so little for him to be wholly content.

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odetojeons · 4 years ago

Text

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

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Wonwoo is… hot.

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There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

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And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

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You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

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His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

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You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

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You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

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Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

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You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

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“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

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There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

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“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

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“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

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Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

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“Answer me.”

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You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

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“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

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“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

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“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

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Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

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And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

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“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

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There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

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“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

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“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

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“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

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Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

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“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

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Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

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“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

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“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

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“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

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The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

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“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

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Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

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“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

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Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

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“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

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“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

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“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

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“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

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This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

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“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

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“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

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You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

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“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

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“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

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“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

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“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

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“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

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Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

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“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

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But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

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“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

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There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

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“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

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You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

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But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

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So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

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“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

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And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

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“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

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You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

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You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

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“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

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“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

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“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

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“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

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Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

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The best intimidating possible.

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Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

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Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

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You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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cinemaseeker · 2 years ago

Text

Let's Review: Thor Love and Thunder

*THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SOME SALTY LANGUAGE AND SPOILERS FOR THOR: LOVE AND THUNDER*

It has been said, many times by many people, that comic books and comic book movies are our new modern mythology and superheroes are the new gods and goddesses of that mythology. Well, it's very easy to make that case when the heroes of your comic book movie are literally figures from Norse and Greek mythology, such as Thor and Zeus. These gods were indeed the first superheroes, so things come full circle here, an ouroboros of inspiration that sees these classical deities donning capes and, occasionally, saving the day.

But if the opening of this movie teaches us anything, it's that the gods are still as petty and powerful as ever.

We start off Thor: Love and Thunder with, of all people, our main villain Gorr, played with equal parts brooding gloom and sadistic glee by DC defector Christian Bale, as he loses his daughter and begs for help from his god. But his pleas fall on deaf ears, leading Gorr to take up the god-killing Necrosword and become Gorr the God Butcher.

While Gorr is not exactly a top-tier Marvel villain (that title still belongs to Thanos and Killmonger), Gorr is definitely a higher tier Marvel villain that comes close, thanks in large part to this opening. It reminds us that the best villains are those that think that they're doing the right thing; they have a persuasive worldview informed by relatable pains caused by shortcomings of the world around them. They do what they do in order to take back some control and change their circumstances. And although avenging the unjust death of a loved one is not exactly new when it comes to villain or antihero motivations, we can relate to that feeling of being let down by a supposed higher power who not only refuses to help you, but flat-out tells you that your existence is pointless, that there is nothing meaningful beyond this life, and you were a fool for believing that there was in the first place. And yeah, the gods can be pricks sometimes and they do deserve to be punished and wouldn't it be nice to knock them down a peg or two? It's a very appealing notion, one that Gorr is more than happy to take advantage of.

Especially when you look at someone like Thor.

Now don't get me wrong, Thor has changed and grown a lot over the course of his movies and throughout the MCU, but even now he can still be a bit oblivious. Most of the time that's what makes him so lovable but sometimes it can ring hollow when you put him next to characters who are dealing with actual problems, as we will see with his ex-girlfriend Dr. Jane Foster, played by Natalie Portman (who FINALLY gets to have some fun in a Thor movie), and *MAJOR SPOILER COMING UP* her struggles with stage 4 cancer.

Thor's biggest personal obstacle in this movie is his own masculine insecurity, which is fitting for a guy whose sense of self-worth is measured by the size of his biceps (rumor has it that Chris Hemsworth achieved his biggest physique yet for this movie). That struggle takes many forms, ranging from getting back into shape after the events of Avengers: Endgame (because Gods forbid we have a fat Thor, am I right?) to dealing with the return of Jane, who has taken up the mantle of Mighty Thor and has assumed ownership of the reconstructed Mjölnir.

Although it's exciting to see Jane really step up and become a proper hero in her own right, her journey puts a spotlight on Marvel's ever-present problems that they still have with their female characters.

First off, Jane only gets to be powerful because she is a cruel victim of fate, getting this aggressive form of cancer out of nowhere just so she can become Mighty Thor by borrowing the tools and persona of her male counterpart in order to regain her vitality. This basically makes Jane a Smurfette figure despite her obvious strengths and her insistence on being called Mighty Thor, not Lady Thor. But her power and superhero status is achieved by essentially being a direct extension of her ex-boyfriend. Thor gets to be Thor, but Jane has to contend with being Lady Thor. Granted, this is handled fairly well in the movie and none of the characters really express any problems with this. After all, Valkyrie gets to be King of New Asgard and it's a non-issue. Between this, Florence + the Machine's song "King", and the upcoming Viola Davis flick The Woman King, it's nice to see that our mainstream media is actively trying to make the title of King a gender neutral term.

Speaking of Valkyrie, she and Jane are the real heroes here. They're the ones making battle plans and staying on task and holding their own alongside Thor.

I would even argue that Jane has better chemistry with Val than she ever did with Thor, who's too busy whining that his ex-weapon Mjölnir doesn't like him anymore while trying to appease Stormbreaker (which I have to admit is pretty hilarious).

Bottom line: Jane and Val display major BDE, or in this case BHE (Big Hammer Energy) in this movie, and for that they deserve our respect.

However they both still get viciously sidelined, albeit briefly in Jane's case, right before the climax despite proving themselves to be extremely capable warriors several times over. This turn sends the implicit message that, while women can be powerful, it's best that they're not too powerful, lest they overshadow the men.

Just look at what happened to Black Widow (fridged), Scarlet Witch (villainized), and Captain Marvel, who although not victimized in the same way as other female Avengers still earned endless vitriol for essentially being more powerful than the boys. So when it comes to female heroes in the MCU, they can either be all-powerful and lose their humanity (again, see Scarlet Witch) or have some power (but again, not too much power) before ultimately getting sidelined, sacrificed, damseled, disempowered, or killed off.

But with all that said, Jane does get her best character development in this movie and, like I said earlier, she actually gets to have some FUN here. We get to see her actively owning and enjoying her newfound power while adorably trying out different superhero catchphrases. She gets to be strong and weak in equal measure without diminishing her power, thus avoiding the trap of the tired Strong Female Character trope. She gets to be goofy, gets to figure herself out, gets to share that enthusiasm with her comrades, and gets to have an awesome bromance with Valkyrie, cementing a strong female friendship with a fellow female superhero.

She also gets to have a great story arch worthy of any hero. *MAJOR SPOILERS COMING UP* We learn that, although Mjölnir grants Jane better health, strength, and stamina, her body becomes unable to fight off the cancer whenever she's not using the hammer, and it gets worse every time she uses it. During the climax, we see her make the ultimate sacrifice by taking up Mjölnir one last time to deal the final blow against Gorr before succumbing to the cancer and dying in Thor's arms. This death feels like a cog in the Marvel machine, which sees characters come and go based on the availability of their actors. But it was nice to see that in the post-credits scene Jane is greeted by Heimdall and welcomed with open arms into the halls of Valhalla, earning the reward of a true hero. *MAJOR SPOILERS END HERE*

This movie is such a mixed bag of steps forward and steps backward when it comes to feminist representation. The female characters are both central and peripheral here, but overall it's definitely moving in the right direction and I, for one, would like to acknowledge that fact. This movie offers an abundance of hope for the next generation and it's exciting to think of all the girls and women (and others) who'll start cosplaying as Mighty Thor in droves for cons and for Halloween, having been given unspoken permission by this movie to do so.

On another note, I am happy to report that Thor: Love and Thunder has the best queer representation of any Marvel movie yet. To quote Mighty Thor, this movie really brings the rainbow. *SPOILERS COMING UP* We get verbal confirmation that Valkyrie had a girlfriend (albeit one who was unnamed and killed off and doesn't appear onscreen), thus fulfilling the studio's promise to make the character openly bisexual (while still putting out a cut of the film that can be easily censored to appease homophobic countries); plus we see her chivalrously kiss the hand of one of Zeus' handmaidens while making bedroom eyes, so that's something I guess. We learn that Korg has two dads and gets a boyfriend by the end of the movie. We get to meet Heimdall's son Axl, who tells us that he used to be called Astrid, and although it's never confirmed canonically that Axl is trans, he's definitely coded as such. Either way, I was shocked to see Thor deadnaming this kid as a joke, which, I can't believe I have to stress this, is NOT OKAY. Despite this, Axl gets to play an important part in the story, taking up a leadership role amongst the children who are kidnapped by Gorr and getting to fight alongside Thor with them in the final battle. *SPOILERS END HERE*

Marvel movies are at a critical tipping point right now, and if they hope to stay prevalent and relevant, they're going to have to start shaking things up. The Marvel formula is starting to get stale and it'll need to get thrown out and replaced with something fresher very soon, or else we'll going to start consuming something else.

This has never been more obvious than it is in Thor: Love and Thunder. The vibe for Love and Thunder, just like it was in Ragnarok, is bright and outrageous, like those spray-paintings on the sides of vans showing unicorns and sorcerers. But that painting is starting to fade around the edges. That classic brand of Marvel humor is starting to get old (i.e. those goddamn yelling goats) and has been reduced to poking fun at Disney themed parks, as we see in New Asgard (but, to be fair, it's also poking fun at New Zealand aka Middle Earth, which tracks because director Taika Waititi is from New Zealand, so he gets it). It was hilarious to see those Asgardian actors at it again, and now it makes me want to see a spin-off starring them, just so I can see what they do in their downtime outside of work.

At the end of the day, you can still rest assured that this movie will have plenty of love and thunder in equal abundance. It's still a good time, you'll still laugh at the jokes, you'll still enjoy hanging out with some of your favorite characters (we even get to see 2 out of 3 Marvel Chrises when Starlord and the Guardians of the Galaxy briefly show up in the beginning), you'll still enjoy the action scenes, the colors and visuals are still amazing (especially when our heroes get to the Shadow Realm in a sequence that's visually on par with the slo-mo flashback of the Valkyrior battle against Hela in Ragnarok), and you'll still bob your head to the soundtrack, which slaps pretty hard although the one big strike against it is the overwhelming lack of AC/DC's "Thunderstuck"; I mean COME ON people, it's fitting for both the God of Thunder AND all the Aussies in the cast. The last thing I'll say about that is if (i.e. when) they make another Thor movie, it would be really cool if it could find its way onto the soundtrack.

Either way, it's nice to see that Thor can still bring the thunder.

Thanks for reading!

My Rating: 3/5 thunderbolts

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