#even before seeing his design with a healthy body | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freshl6ve · 13 days ago

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𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲. The building, with its sleek design and glass doors, exuded an upscale ambiance. My mind raced with anticipation and anxiety as I made my way to the elevator, punching the button for the floor Chris’ studio resided on.

I had grown concerned about the amount of time he had spent isolated in his studio, pushing himself nonstop without even taking breaks to eat properly.

As the elevator swiftly made its ascent, I leaned against the cool mirrored wall. I glanced down at the display on my phone, my eyes widening at the time. It was well past midnight. A heavy sigh escaped my lips, a mix of worry and disappointment settling on my shoulders.

“He can’t push himself like this,” I muttered to myself in the quiet solitude of the elevator, “Skipping meals, barely sleeping… It’s not healthy.”

Frustration and concern mingled within me, each passing second on the elevator ride felt like an eternity. The quiet hum of the elevator seemed to magnify my anxious thoughts as I silently worried about Chris’ well-being. Every second that passed without a break from his work was another moment he was pushing himself too far, neglecting his own health.

The gentle ding of the elevator brought me back to the present, tearing me away from my worries. The doors opened, revealing the hallway leading to the studio. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead.

I straightened my shoulders, gathering the resolve to confront Chris and make him take a break, even if it were just for a few minutes.

I stepped out of the elevator, each step echoing softly against the linoleum floor. The hallway felt endless, my footsteps carrying me closer and closer to his studio. The dim, almost eerie glow from the windows above provided the only illumination in the otherwise dimly lit corridor.

I walked past closed doors and hushed murmurs behind them, my target drawing nearer with every passing second. My heart beat loudly in my chest, anticipation mounting with each step I neared his studio door.

Finally, I reached the door to Chris's studio. The familiar sight of it, with its faint light beneath the door, only amplified my determination to make him pause and remember his well-being. I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my racing heartbeat. With a trembling hand, I softly knocked on the door, trying to gauge if he was even aware of my presence.

Not hearing any response from within, I decided to take a chance. Slowly, I reached for the door knob and gently turned it, pushing the door open just enough for me to slip inside.

The room was dimly lit, casting elongated shadows across the space. The soft glow of his console illuminated the studio, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

There he was, Chris, deeply engrossed in his work, sitting in front of his console, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. His eyes were fixed on the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard in a rhythmic frenzy.

I let out a soft sigh, seeing him so engrossed in his work. I carefully placed the bag of food down on the couch, doing my best not to make a sound. Stepping closer, I moved towards him quietly, my heart heavy with worry and determination.

Slowly, I moved closer and draped my arms around his neck, gently wrapping them around him. The suddenness of the movement startled him a bit, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing.

I whispered softly, my voice barely above a murmur, the words carrying both tenderness and concern. “You should take a break,” I said, the warmth of my breath lightly grazing his cheek. Even in the dim studio, there was no mistaking my identity. The familiarity in his expression changed immediately upon recognizing me.

He turned his head, his eyes locking with mine, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face as he recognized me. A faint smile played on his lips, “How did you get in here?” he asked, his voice a whisper that somehow sounded louder in the quiet room.

I smiled softly, keeping my arms draped around his neck. “The door wasn't locked,” I whispered back, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

He shook his head, a mix of amusement and exhaustion in his eyes. “You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that,” he admitted, the hint of a smile still lingering on his lips. Despite the tiredness in his voice and the strain evident on his face, there was a spark of amusement and affection.

I leaned against him, my chin resting on his shoulder as I peered at the screen. “Have you even moved from this spot?” I asked, a hint of concern lacing my voice, though it was laced with a gentle tease.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders as his fingers paused momentarily. “I lost track of time,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving the screen. There was a hint of shame in his voice as he realized how long he had been working. I could feel the fatigue radiating off of him, yet he persisted, his passion for music holding him captive.

I leaned a bit closer, my lips brushing softly against the soft skin of his neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Take a break. Please,” I whispered against his neck, my words carrying both a plea and persuasion. My lips lingered gently against him, a silent plea for him to pause and rest.

He let out a soft sigh at the gentle touch of my lips against his neck, the tenderness of my plea settling in his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly conflicted between his desire to work and the quiet demand of my plea, a battle of his passions waging within him.

The soft touch of my lips against his neck sparked something that began to overshadow his desire to work. The tension in the air shifted, the vulnerability of the moment mingling with the exhaustion of his work. His resolve began to waver as his senses became acutely aware of my presence, my pleading request lingering in his mind.

My lips continued to move against his neck, tracing a gentle path of kisses. Each touch brought forth a shiver from him, his muscles tensing in response to the sensations. I could feel the conflict within him, the war between his duty to his work and the allure of a different kind of desire taking hold.

As I continued to trail kisses along his neck, I softly whispered against his skin, my words carrying a mix of reassurance and temptation. “You need to take care of yourself, Chris,” I murmured, my lips grazing his collarbone, “You're pushing yourself far too hard.” Each word was a gentle plea, a soft reminder of his well-being amidst the desire that brewed between us.

He let out a soft sigh, but a hint of stubborn resolve lingered, “I'm almost done, I promise. Just a few more minutes,” he whispered back. His words were a weak defense, a faint attempt to hold onto his work, though the wavering tone in his voice betrayed his true exhaustion.

I sighed against his skin, feeling the familiar stubborn streak in his response, “You always say that,” I whispered, my lips lingering against his jawline, the warm brush of my breath creating a faint shiver in him. My words were soft, a reminder of his habit to always push himself further, promising to finish soon, yet never actually allowing himself to take a rest.

As Chris focused on the computer screen, I had an idea, knowing exactly what will make him stop. I moved closer, my voice barely a whisper against his ear, my words carrying a mix of desire and need: “I need you.”

The words hung in the air, their simplicity yet earnestness capturing his attention effortlessly. He froze, his eyes fixed on the screen, the weight of the words sinking in. A soft shiver ran through him, his focus shattered by the undeniable need in my voice, the power of three simple words.

I pulled away from his neck and moved in front of him, my movements slow and almost teasing. I carefully positioned myself, sitting on his lap; the warmth of his body against mine, my eyes meeting his, my hands resting on his chest. As I settled in, I could feel the tension in his muscles.

He couldn't help but feel the allure of my closeness as I settled in his lap. His eyes met mine, the usual focus they held for his work now replaced by a mix of exhaustion and a hint of vulnerability. The weight of my gaze on him made his resolve waver, the intensity of the moment pulling him away from his work and towards me.

As my arms encircled his neck, I felt him tense beneath me. Slowly, softly, I began grinding against him, my moves barely a whisper against his frame. The small, subtle movement ignited a spark of desire within us both, the tension in his body growing more pronounced.

My hands tentatively reached out, caressing Chris’s face, feeling the familiar sharp jawline and gentle curve of his cheeks. “Chris...I’ve missed you so much.”

As my lips brushed against Chris's ear, I whispered, “I've missed your touch, your voice, your everything. It's been so long since I've felt your lips on mine, your hands on my body... I've had to do it all myself, imagining it's you.”

Chris's breath hitched as my words washed over him. “I'm so sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice laced with guilt. “I've just been so busy in the studio, trying to get this album done.”

“Yet you don't take breaks,” I sighed, my fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. “You look so stressed, darling. Let me help you relax, hmm?” I purred, my hips grinding against him once more. “If you'll let me.”

Chris's resolve crumbled as I continued my sensual assault. “Fuck, Y/N...” he groaned, his hands finally coming up to grip my hips. “I can’t, I gotta finish this album.”

“Please, Chris...” I begged, nipping at his earlobe. “Just tonight. Let me remind you of how good it is between us. You need a break, and I need you.” I ground against him again, my body aching with need.

With a low growl, Chris finally succumbed to temptation. His hands tightened on my hips as he pulled me flush against him. “Fuck it,” he muttered, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

His strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my hips even closer as I straddled him. He gripped my ass possessively, his fingers kneading the flesh as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine.

I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair as I rocked against him, the friction driving both of us crazy.

Breaking the kiss, I gazed into Chris's eyes with a smoldering look. “Let me take care of you,” I purred, my hands sliding under his shirt to caress the toned muscles beneath. “I want to worship every inch of you.”

Chris's eyes rolled back as I began to worship his body, my hands roaming over his chest and stomach, my lips trailing kisses over his jaw and neck. I reached down and unbuttoned his pants, sliding my hand inside to wrap around his thick, hard length.

Chris hissed through his teeth, his fingers digging into my back as I slowly stroked him. “Y/N... that feels so good, baby,” he panted, his hips bucking against my touch. I grinned mischievously, loving the control I had over him. “Shh, just relax,”

I continued to stroke him slowly, my thumb rubbing against the sensitive head of his cock. Chris threw his head back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he neared the edge. Just when he seemed about to cum, I stopped, leaving him twitching and aching in my hand.

I slowly lifted the hem of Chris's shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and toned arms. My fingers trailed along his skin, sending shivers down his spine as I exposed more and more of his chest. Finally, I pulled the shirt off completely, tossing it aside to admire his gorgeous physique.

I nuzzled his jaw, my lips tracing a path down to his neck. I sucked gently at his throat, leaving a mark – a claiming mark. Chris groaned, tilting his head to give me better access. “God, Y/N...” he groaned, his hands gripping my thighs.

I marked his neck, his collarbone, and his chest, each love bite eliciting a moan or groan from Chris. His hands roamed over my body, caressing my curves through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Baby...” he panted, “you’re gonna be the death of me..”

I left another mark on his chest, just above his heart. Each mark made Chris groan and flex under me, his body tensing as he tried to rein in his desire.

I smirked, knowing that Chris would never hide these marks. He'd wear them proudly, like badges of honor, showing the world that he belonged to me. The thought made me even more possessive, and I leaned down to place more marks on his collarbone and shoulders.

I ground my hips against him, my core pressing against his clothed erection. The tip of his cock poked out of his pants, rubbing against my stomach as I moved. Chris let out a strangled groan, his hands gripping my thighs tightly as he tried to stay still and let me take control.

I trailed my lips down his chest, kissing each mark I’d left behind. Chris watched me with heavy-lidded eyes, his breath coming in short pants. I kissed lower, my lips brushing against his toned stomach. I knelt before him, pushing his pants down to his thighs.

Chris lifted his hips, allowing me to push his pants down further. His erection sprang out, hard and ready. I wrapped my hand around the base, my thumb and fingers not quite meeting. Chris’s hips bucked forward, his head falling back against the seat as he groaned. “Y/N...”

I licked my lips, admiring his impressive size. Slowly, teasingly, I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft from base to tip. Chris shuddered, his hands fisting in my hair. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the bead of precum at the tip.

I ran my tongue along the prominent veins on Chris's cock, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat in his shaft. His veins throbbed against my tongue, and I could taste the saltiness of his skin. I wrapped my lips around the head, sucking gently as I looked up at Chris's face.

Chris's eyes were closed, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. I sucked harder, my lips stretching around his girth. I bobbed my head, taking more of him into my mouth with each pass. My hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with my mouth.

Chris's hand came to my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. He didn't force me down, just guided me gently as his hips thrust up in tiny increments. His breathing grew ragged, his grip on my hair tightening as he neared his release. “Y/N...Baby” he panted, “You can stop...I’m not gonna last...” I hummed around him, my vibrations making Chris groan louder.

I looked up at Chris through my lashes, my eyes watering from the effort of taking him so deep. “I wanna taste all of you” I mumbled, the vibrations pushing him closer to the edge. I wanted to taste him, to swallow every drop. Chris's face contorted, his jaw clenching as he finally let go, spilling into my mouth with a low groan. Chris's eyes locked onto mine as he finally let go.

I pulled back, allowing some of Chris’s release to dribble down my chin. I caught it with my fingers, using it to slick my hand. I stroked him, milking every last drop from him as he twitched in my hand.

Chris let out a shuddering groan, his eyes fluttering closed as his release coated his stomach. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. I admired my handiwork, seeing the satisfied smile on Chris's face as he watched me.

Chris opened his eyes slowly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at his sticky stomach. “Mmmm, baby...” He let out a shuddering groan, “you're gonna be the death of me.” He looked up at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I stood up slowly, hovering over Chris's prone form. “Good” I purred, leaning down to capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. My hair fell around us like a curtain, cocooning us in our own little world.

Chris's hands slowly snaked up my thighs, over my hips, to the hem of my shirt. He broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto mine as he slowly began to lift my shirt. “I want to see you, baby...all of you.” His voice was low, almost reverent.

I lifted my arms, allowing Chris to pull my shirt up and over my head. He tossed it aside, his eyes devouring the sight of me. He reached out, tracing his fingers over the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist, and the gentle curve of my hips.

His fingers brushed over my bare breasts, his brows furrowing as he realized I wore no bra. “No bra? You knew I was going to give in didn’t you?” His voice was accusing, but his fingers continued to caress me, his thumbs brushing over my hardened peaks.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Maybe I did,” I admitted, my voice breathy. Chris let out a growl, his hands moving to cup my breasts. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs rolling over my nipples.

“You're so...perfect,” Chris murmured, his eyes locked onto my face. He sat up, wrapping his arms around me as he buried his face between my breasts. He kissed and nuzzled them, his hands roaming over my back and hips.

I tangled my fingers in Chris's hair, holding him close as he worshipped my breasts. His mouth found my nipple, suckling and teasing until I was arching into his touch. “Chris...” I breathed, my head falling back in pleasure.

Chris's hands tightened on me, his lips moving to my other breast. He nipped gently at my hardened peak, soothing it with a suckle. “Mmmm, you like that don’t you?” He asked, his voice muffled against my skin.

His hands slid down to my ass, gripping and kneading the soft flesh. “I'm going to make you feel so good, baby,” Chris promised, his voice low and filled with desire.

Chris's hands slid down to the hem of my sweats. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with determination. “I'm going to make up for all the time I've wasted in here,” he promised, his fingers slowly pushing the fabric down over my hips.

As my sweats pooled around my ankles, Chris eyes roaming over my bare legs. He reached out, hooking his fingers under my underwear and slowly pulling them down. “So beautiful,” he breathed, tossing the underwear aside.

I stepped out of the discarded clothing, standing bare before Chris. He reached out, his hands slowly sliding up my thighs. His touch sent shivers through me, and I bit my lip as his fingers found my center. “So wet...”

Chris groaned, his fingers dipping into my folds. He rubbed slow, circular motions over my clit, his thumb pressing gently against my entrance. “Fuck, you're soaked,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving my face as he continued to tease my pussy.

I swayed on my feet, my knees buckling slightly as pleasure washed over me. Chris's strong arms wrapped around me, supporting me as he continued to play my body like an instrument. “Chris...please,”

“Please what, baby?” Chris asked, his voice low and taunting. His fingers continued their slow torture, never quite giving me what I needed. “Please...touch me...please...” I panted, my nails digging into his shoulders for support. Chris chuckled darkly, “With pleasure.”

Chris stood up, lifting me into his arms and sitting me down on the office chair. He placed my legs over each armrest, spreading me open for him. “Perfect,” he muttered, his eyes roaming over my exposed pussy.

Chris dropped to his knees, his face hovering over my dripping entrance. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with desire. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy until you cum all over my face,” he promised before burying his face between my thighs.

His tongue delved into my folds, parting them to taste me fully. He licked and suckled, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. I writhed on the chair, my hands clutching the armrests as Chris feasted on me like a starving man.

Chris continued his oral assault, his tongue delving deep inside my dripping channel. He licked and sucked, savoring my essence. Two fingers joined his tongue, pumping in and out of my tight heat. He curled them just right, stroking that special spot inside me that made my toes curl.

Chris looked up at me, his eyes locked on mine as he devoured my pussy. I tried to close my legs, but he opened them, keeping his face buried in my folds. I reached down and buried my hand in his hair, trying to pull him away but he only gripped my thighs tighter.

“Chris...Oh god...Chris...” I moaned, my back arching off the chair. His tongue was relentless, his fingers driving me closer and closer to release. “Chris...I'm...I'm going to...” I panted, my hand gripping his hair tighter.

“Not yet,” Chris growled, pulling back just as I was on the verge. I whimpered, my hips bucking forward, needing that last push to send me over the edge. “Please...please, Chris...” I begged, my voice hoarse from moaning.

Chris grinned mischievously, burying his face back between my thighs. His fingers pumped in and out of me, curving upwards to rub that magical spot inside. His mouth latched onto my opening, sucking hard as his fingers worked their magic. “Chris...please...I can't...”

“Shut up and cum,” Chris demanded, his fingers pistoning in and out of me. He added a third finger, stretching me further as he finger-fucked me with ruthless intensity. His mouth never left my pussy, sucking and licking furiously.

I wrapped my hand around Chris's hair, holding on for dear life as he destroyed me with his fingers and mouth. “CHRIS! CHRIS! OH FUCK, CHRIS!” I screamed, my whole body shaking as the pressure built to a breaking point.

“That's it, baby. Cum for me,” Chris encouraged, his fingers curling inside me, pressing hard on that spot. His mouth sealed around my entrance, sucking hard as his fingers pumped in and out.

My entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Chris's fingers and mouth on my pussy. I felt like I was going to pass out from the intensity of it all. “I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!” I yelled, my legs trembling as my orgasm hit me like a truck.

Chris didn't let up, milking my pussy for every drop of cum as I shook and spasmed in the chair. He finger-fucked me through my entire orgasm, his mouth still sealed around my entrance. When I finally collapsed back in the chair, panting and dripping with sweat, Chris finally pulled away.

“You're fucking delicious,” Chris said, licking his lips. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them. “I could eat this pussy for hours.” I whimpered, oversensitive from my intense orgasm. Chris just smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

Chris leaned over me, his hands braced on the armrests. He brought his glistening fingers to my mouth, painting my lips with my own essence. “Taste yourself,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. I parted my lips, tasting the evidence of my arousal on his fingers.

Chris leaned in the rest of the way, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into my mouth, exploring every inch as he shared my taste with me. I moaned, my arms wrapping around his neck as we made out hungrily.

Chris scooped me up into his arms, settling back into the chair with me in his lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me close as we continued to make out passionately. I straddled his legs.

Chris's hands tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer as he trailed kisses along my jawline and down to my neck. I let my head fall back, exposing more of my neck to him. As he kissed and sucked on my neck, I felt his hard length beneath me.

I reached down between our bodies, my fingers wrapping around his thick, hard shaft. I moaned at the feel of him, so hot and heavy in my hand. I notched the head of his erection at my entrance and slowly began to lower myself onto him.

“Oh fuck,” Chris groaned as I sank down onto his cock. I threw my head back with a loud moan as he stretched and filled me completely. “You feel so good around me,” he panted, his hands gripping my hips. I started to move, rolling my hips in a slow grind.

Chris's mouth returned to my neck, his lips and teeth nipping and sucking at my delicate skin. He marked me thoroughly, leaving a trail of love bites down to my collarbone. “Ride me, baby,” he whispered, his hands guiding my hips as I continued to move atop him.

His grip on my hips tightened, and he began to thrust up into me hard and fast, meeting my downward motions with powerful upward jerks. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by our labored breaths and moans.

“Fuck yeah, ride my dick just like that,” Chris grunted, his voice rough with lust. “Take it hard, baby, take it deep. You're so fucking tight around me, I can feel every inch of your pussy.” He reached up to pinch and roll my nipples, adding to the intensity.

“Your little cunt is squeezing my dick so tight, I can feel myself hitting your cervix with every thrust,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “You're gonna make me cum so hard inside you, fill your fucking pussy with my seed.”

“Look at you, taking me so well. Look at how beautifully you're being stretched around me,” he panted. “You're such a good girl, aren't you? Being so good at taking my big, thick cock. But you can take more, can't you, baby?”

Without warning, Chris slammed me down hard onto his lap, fully sheathing himself inside me. I screamed, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him. “That's it, mark me up,” he growled, his hips bucking upwards as he pounded into me mercilessly.

His hands gripped my ass tightly, lifting and lowering my body onto his lap in quick, brutal movements. The sound of wet, meaty impacts filled the room as he mercilessly drilled up into me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. “Harder, Chris, please!”

“Gladly,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his pace quickening even more. His powerful arms lifted and dropped my body onto his lap with such force that the chair shook and creaked ominously. Each brutal thrust pushed me higher and higher, my breath coming in short, desperate pants.

“Is this what you wanted, hmm? To make me abandon my album just so I could spend hours buried deep inside you?” He grunted, slamming me down onto him particularly hard. “You're insatiable, you know that? Always begging for more, always needing to be filled.”

“I'm gonna keep pounding into you like this until you forget your own name,” he whispered in my ear, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Until all you can remember is how it feels to have me inside you. Until you're a mindless, quivering mess beneath me.”

With a swift motion, Chris stood, still buried deep inside me. He carried me to his large desk and swept his arms across its surface, sending recording equipment and papers flying to the floor with a single, powerful swing.

“Chris, your equipment!” I gasped, concerned for his expensive gear. He silenced me with a searing kiss, his hands gripping my bottom tightly as he continued to thrust into me. “Forget about it,” he rasped, “Right now, the only thing that matters is you.”

His hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as he powered into me, his hips slamming against mine with brutal force. The solid wooden desk shook and groaned beneath us, mirroring the sounds of our united bodies. “Chris, it's too much!”

“Take it,” he snarled, his voice barely recognizable. “You can take more. You can take everything I give you.” His hands slid under my thighs, tilting my hips to accept his merciless rhythm. “And you will.”

My fingers scrambled for purchase on the polished surface of the desk as he mercilessly drove into me, again and again. His breath came in hot, heavy pants against my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he growled.

“Come on baby, don't hold back. Let me hear those sweet moans,” he urged, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “The studio's soundproof - no one will hear you scream my name as I fuck you senseless.”

I threw my head back, a loud, uninhibited moan echoing through the soundproofed room. “C-Chris!” I cried out, my nails raking down his back as he continued to pound into me with relentless intensity.

His response was a guttural groan, his pace quickening as my walls tightened around him. “Good. Louder,” he urged, his hands sliding up my body to palm my breasts. His thumbs strummed over my hardened peaks, drawing another loud, desperate moan from my lips. “Again.”

“CHRIS!” I screamed, my voice hoarse from the sheer volume of my cries. The sound of wet, slapng flesh filled the room, mingling with our labored breaths and my ear-piercing moans.

With a swift motion, Chris spun me around, bending me over his desk. My palms pressed flat against the cool wood as he kicked my legs apart, positioning himself behind me. “Keep screaming for me, baby,” he commanded, lining himself up with my entrance. “Let me hear how much you love this.”

His large hands gripped my hips, pulling me back as he surged forward, filling me to the brim. “Oh GOD, Chris!” I shrieked, my back arching as he set a brutal pace, slamming into me from behind.

“Louder, baby. Tell me who's making you feel this way,” he growled, his fingers digging into my flesh as he increased his tempo. The desk shook violently beneath us, papers scattering to the floor as he drilled into me with unbridled passion.

“IT'S YOU, CHRIS! ONLY YOU!” I practically screamed, my voice raw and desperate. Tears of ecstasy streamed down my face as he hit that perfect spot inside me over and over again. My inner walls fluttered around his thickness, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

His answer was a feral grunt, his hips snapping against my ass with reckless abandon. The desk creaked ominously, on the verge of collapse as Chris fucked me with primal intensity. “Fuck, you're so tight,” he panted, his breath hot against my back. “So fucking tight.”

As he fucked me, Chris reached for his phone on his desk, pressing a button to record our sounds. He couldn't resist the opportunity to capture my raw, uninhibited moans to add to one of his songs in the future. The thought only spurred him on, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

Blissfully unaware of his little recording session, I was lost to the world, my existence narrowed down to the point where our bodies joined. His large hands roamed my ass, squeezing and kneading my flesh before delivering a stinging slap. “Chris!”

Satisfied with the snippet he'd captured, Chris hit stop and tossed his phone aside. He sank back into his chair, pulling me with him so that I straddled his lap. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me up and down on his lap as he continued to stretch me wide open.

I gripped the armrest tightly, my fingers turning white as I lifted myself up and down on his lap, impaling myself on his thick hardness. His broad chest pressed against my back, his hands slowly sliding up my torso to palm my breasts.

He toyed with my peaks, pinching and rolling them between his fingers as I rode him harder, my inner muscles clenching around his shaft. “That's it, baby,” he encouraged, his hot breath washing over my neck. “Ride me just like that.”

The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room as I bounced on his lap, my ass slapping against his thighs with each downward motion. Chris's fingers sank into the flesh of my breasts, kneading the soft mounds as he rocked his hips to meet my thrusts.

One hand continued to worship my breast, while the other slid down my body, seeking out my most sensitive spot. His calloused fingertips strummed over my swollen bud, drawing a loud, keening cry from my lips.

My whimpering moans filled the room as Chris's fingers worked my clit in time with my rides, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my trembling body. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” I chanted, my vision blurring as the edges of my control began to fray.

His long, skilled fingers danced across my sensitive nub, spreading me open even wider as he sought to drive me mad with pleasure. The sensation of his thick digits rubbing against my inner walls and his thumb pressing against my clit was too much for my overwhelmed senses.

“Not yet,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and commanding. “Hold it back for me a little longer.” His fingers continued to play me like an instrument, coaxing more needy whimpers and desperate pleas from my lips.

Leaning forward, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me off of him, carrying me the short distance to his desk. He sat me down on the edge and stepped between my legs, pushing back inside me with one long, forceful thrust.

His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wide as he drove in deep, the angle allowing him to reach even higher inside me. Our eyes locked as he began to move, the heat in his gaze scorching me from the inside out. “Look at me, Baby,” he rasped.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, drowning in the intensity burning there. My nails dug into his shoulders as I held on for dear life, my body coiling tighter and tighter. “I'm so close,” I whimpered, my hips rolling to meet his increasingly powerful thrusts.

Chris pulled me into his chest, our faces pressed together as he continued to pound into me. His arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. The desk shook beneath us as he fucked me with reckless abandon, his breath hot against my skin.

My hands slid down his back, fingers curling to rake down his back in sharp, stinging lines. Chris hissed, the sound of his breath against my ear sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs. “Cum for me,” he rasped, his lips brushing against mine.

As our lips met, my entire body convulsed, orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. I jerked my head back, breaking the kiss as a scream of ecstasy tore from my throat. My pussy clenched around Chris's cock, Milking him for all he was worth as my climax seized me completely.

“AHHH!!! OH GOD, OH FUCK, CHRIS!!!” I wailed, my voice echoing through the room as my vision went white. Chris's mouth opened in a silent scream, his face contorting in pure, unadulterated bliss as he emptied himself inside me.

Chris collapsed against me, his sweat-slicked body draping over mine as he struggled to catch his breath. He rested his head in the crook of my neck, his chest heaving against my own as the last tremors of our shared climax rolled through us.

As our bodies began to still, our combined release trickled down my thighs to join the growing puddle on the floor beneath us. Our ragged breaths filled the room, mingling with the soft sounds of our labored pants as we both tried to regain some semblance of control over our bodies.

I could feel Chris slowly softening inside me, his once rigid member gradually losing its firmness as the afterglow of our passionate lovemaking began to fade. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the sweat-dampened skin of my neck as he fought to steady his breathing.

His lips ghosted over my neck, placing a soft, gentle kiss just behind my ear before he began to trail more of them down the length of my throat. His body was heavy against mine, but I reveled in his weight, relishing the feel of him still deep within me.

“I needed that so much,” Chris murmured against my skin, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms tightened around me, pulling me even closer as his kisses continued to pepper my neck and shoulders.

I let out a content sigh, tilting my head to give him better access. “Me too,” I breathed, my own voice hoarse from our passionate cries. His hands began to roam over my body, caressing my curves with a tenderness that belied the fierce passion we had just shared.

Chris shifted his head slightly, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to mine until they hovered mere millimeters apart. The warmth of his breath mingled with my own, creating an electric tension between us. His eyes glimmered with affection and lingering desire as he gazed into my eyes.

I reached up, threading my fingers through his damp, messy hair as I studied his face. I loved how he always looked a little undone after we fuck, his usual neat appearance replaced by a charmingly rumpled state.

Even disheveled and sated, Chris looked perfect to me. His features were soft with post-coital relaxation, his eyes still shining with warmth and affection. I loved him like this, all rumpled and mine.

Chris couldn't help but smirk slightly as he felt me admiring his post-coital disarray. “Like what you see?” he teased lightly, his voice still husky from exertion.

I couldn't but let out a small, fond laugh at his playful comment. “Always,” I confessed, gently mussing his hair further just to watch it fall endearingly across his forehead.

Chris chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed up at me adoringly. He lifted a hand to cover mine, still tangled in his hair, and brought it to his lips to press a tender kiss to my palm.

Chris leaned in, closing the remaining distance between us until his lips met mine in a slow, deep kiss. It was different from the heated, urgent kisses we had shared earlier - this one was softer, more languid, a gentle exploration rather than a desperate claiming.

As the kiss gradually ended, Chris rested his forehead against mine, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We should probably get cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still low and intimate.

“Turns out the studio wasn’t as soundproof as we thought,” Chris admitted wryly a few days later, as we sat on his couch, my head resting in his lap while he absently toyed with my hair.

I sat up slightly, my brows furrowing with worry as I looked up at him. “What do you mean?” Chris let out a low chuckle and reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper, which he unfolded and handed to me.

I scanned the note, my eyes widening as I read the not-so-subtle complaint. “...disturbing the peace with loud... noises...?” I quoted, my voice trailing off embarrassedly. Chris merely grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I accused, my cheeks flaming as I tossed the paper back at him. He caught it deftly, still smirking. I blushed furiously, burying my face in my hands.

“Chris!” He laughed, pulling my hands away from my face gently. “I knew the studio was supposed to be soundproof,” he admitted, still grinning. “But I had no idea you could be so... vocal.”

I glared at him, trying to maintain my indignation despite the warmth spreading through my chest at his teasing. “Vocal? I’ll have you know, I was being perfectly reasonable in my reaction!” Chris chuckled, setting the paper aside and turning his attention back to me. “Reasonable?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he turned my face up to meet his gaze. “Baby, you were practically screaming at the top of your lungs. I think ‘reasonable’ is stretching it a bit.” I rolled my eyes, a small sigh escaping me as I leaned into his touch.

“Mmm, you were just taking it so well,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, sultry register that always made my insides quiver. His face inched closer to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Like a good girl.”

Chris cupped my face tenderly with one large hand, his thumb caressing my cheekbone as he held me still. Then, ever so slowly, he closed the remaining distance between us until his lips brushed against mine in the gentlest of kisses.

As Chris pulled away, he took my hand and led me over to his desk. “I want to play you something,” he said with a mischievous grin. He sat down on the chair and patted his lap, inviting me to join.

I hesitated briefly before acquiescing, settling myself onto his firm thighs. Chris wrapped one arm around my waist. He pulled up the music production software on his computer and hit play, filling the room with sensual beats and his husky vocals. As I listened closely, my eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my god, Chris!” I squeaked, my cheeks flaming red as I recognized my own voice woven into the song. My breathy moans, my soft gasps, my cries of his name – all of them were sampled throughout the track.

“How did you even mange to capture that?” Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. “When I had you bent over the desk, my phone was right next to you,” he explained, his smirk growing wider. “I recorded a little something while I was inside you.”

Chris leaned in, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. “Next time,” he murmured against my mouth, “we should probably try to keep it down, at least a little. Unless you like the idea of me sharing more of your... vocal talents with the world.”

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 700 MILLION FOLLOWERS!!!

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zara-renata · 2 months ago

Text

Control | ao3 | the Sylus series

Summary:

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Notes:

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, a little Sylus POV This is not actually strictly part of the Sylus series, but rather a bit of an interlude outside of the series I'm writing because it doesn't advance the plot and I don't know where I'd fit it in. I was having an awful day earlier this week and wrote this purely to make myself feel better. I hope it does the same for others. It doesn't contain all the same triggers as the series (but I'd still advise checking the CWs) and can be read as a standalone if you'd like. This story contains: sfw, pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort for overachievers who, despite doing their very best, still feel like they didn't do enough, fluff, banter, tender Sylus, clingy Sylus, still-bit-of-a-jerk-Sylus, CWs: grief, discussion of the realities of law enforcement and innocent civilian death as a result of criminal activity, violence typical of the game and Sylus's criminal tendencies, mention of slight depression and feelings of emptiness.

Here you are, again. It has been a long day, a long week, a long month. You’ve been called out almost every shift to counter an increased spurt of wanderer attacks, while also trying to execute a carefully orchestrated undercover mission to stem the tide of illegal modified protocore weapons that recently flooded the black market by arms smugglers.

No, not Sylus. He’s too clever to put himself on the Association’s radar for his arms dealing in a way that could result in a trap being set for him.

No, the idiots you were going after couldn’t hold a candle to Sylus.

But their activity resulted in civilians being caught in the crossfire, and you had spent the last month seeing firsthand the carnage left behind after a gang battle erupted on the outskirts of Linkon City. You forced yourself to look at the broken bodies and broken families of the people affected, boots crunching on shattered glass, trailing bloody footprints on the cracked tarmac of the street. You would not allow your… situationship with Sylus to blind you to the reality of what his line of work could do to people. People just trying to live their lives, make their rent, raise their children–to survive a life that’s already painful and short enough already, without people like the assholes you just finished bringing down tonight arming other assholes with weapons that no one should be able to access. Weapons designed with one purpose in mind: maximum damage, minimum finesse. Weapons designed as if collateral damage is a feature and not a bug.

You’re tired. Days like this have always happened to you, even before you became a Hunter. The lethargy seeping through your body, the disinterest in doing anything that normally makes you happy. You lie on your bed, staring blankly through your gauzy curtains, the autumn wind driving the intermittent raindrops against the glass of your window. Each one a crystalline jewel, splattering, liquid diamonds trailing down the pane like tears.

You have the evening stretching before you, and you want to enjoy it, you do. But you can’t seem to make yourself get up, as your mind drifts to the images you made yourself engrave in your brain. The least those people deserved was you to bear witness, and ensure that you never forget, since your work as a Hunter came too late to help them, in the end.

You turn your gaze away from the gloomy late afternoon, let it wander over the riot of plants hanging from your ceiling and along the shelving in your room. Life continues. Proof of it is right here in your bedroom, the plants turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for you to breathe with your healthy lungs. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

Before, you might have dropped in on your grandmother, making her a meal and sharing it in quiet companionship. If Caleb weren’t on a flight mission, you might have asked him to go on a run or to the gym with you, worked off some of this jittery aggression on the mats or by pushing your lungs past their capacity in an effort to leave him laughing in your dust.

But they’re gone now, of course. Victims of the same type of assholes you took down today.

You should be reveling in the success of your mission, but all you can see is the still form of one victim in particular, a snapshot in your memory of their slender wrist, their half-opened hand, lying in the street amongst the glittering shards of glass and scorch marks on the asphalt.

This empty feeling will pass. You know that. You have enough life experience to understand that feelings like this, moods like this, ebb and flow like Rafayel’s tide. So what if it’s harder now, to pull yourself out of them when you find yourself drifting in this sorrowful sea, because your support network has been washed away? That doesn’t mean you’ll feel like this forever. Only that it might take a little longer to drag your tired body off the bed, to refill your empty tank and survive and maybe enjoy another day.

Suddenly, you hear a tapping. You turn your head back to the window. Mephisto is perched on the other side of the glass, gently pecking the pane. He tilts his head and regards you with one glittering red eye.

You haven’t seen Sylus for several weeks now, both of you busy with your respective occupations, and you, doubly busy with the undercover mission. He has sent photos, here and there–blurry pictures of a black cat, a flock of birds in flight against an evening sky, the setting sun’s rays the color of fire and blood. He has asked how you’re doing, and you’ve lied and said you’re fine. He sent you a photo of a glass of wine on a low table near a roaring fire. “You should be here,” he’d captioned it.

Despite all of your complicated feelings about who he is, who he was to you when you first met him, what he does to afford his huge open hearth fireplace and all the finest things in life, you wished you were there with him too.

But you weren’t, and you haven’t been for awhile now. Over the past few weeks, you’ve seen Mephisto in the trees, heard his grating call over the sounds of traffic. But he hasn’t approached you, until today. Normally you would play your typical cat and mouse game with him, or rather, crow and worm, and you’d grab your paintball gun and see how good your aim is as he flaps outside your window, or you’d lure him in with a treat and lock him in the bathroom and wait and see how long it takes Sylus to send Luke and Kieran to set him free. You like to think of it as enrichment activities for both the crow and his owner–you’re not going to make it easy for Sylus to stalk you. He might get bored, after all.

But you just don’t have it in you, today. You slip off the bed and pad to the window, throwing it open. Rain mists your face, drawing goosebumps up your bare arms. Mephisto watches you, and caws softly. You’d call it a coo, if it wasn’t such a horrible sound. Much like his owner’s attempt at a lullaby. You back away, slip back onto the bed. If he’d like to come in, he’s welcome.

You return to staring at your bedroom walls. After a while, you hear the flapping of wings, and suddenly Mephisto lands next to you on the duvet. He shakes his mechanical feathers, and water droplets are flung onto the fabric and the mountain of pillows.

“Thanks, buddy,” you murmur, watching as he uses his beak to groom himself. It’s uncanny, sometimes, how alive-acting he is. Like a real bird. You’ve always wanted a pet. You know that Sylus insists that Mephisto is not a pet, but you really can’t see the difference. Mephisto clearly likes his owner, and does his job dutifully, and sometimes you think, with great pleasure. He drops little destroyed bits of surveillance hardware at Sylus’s feet on occasion, like a real crow bringing something shiny to a human who was previously kind to him.

Curiously, but without much expectation, you extend your hand to the bird. He hops backward, away from you, but remains on the bed. “May I pet you?” you ask.

He cocks his head, makes soft little chirruping noises in his mechanical throat. You let your hand fall to the duvet, palm up, and close your eyes. It’s nice to have company, in any case.

After a while, you feel him hopping again, and then something cold and smooth hesitantly nudges your palm. You open your eyes. Mephisto is gently pecking your palm. He nudges it, then bobs his head, observing you with his beautiful ruby eye.

“Is that a yes?” you ask. In response, he sits down, nestling into your duvet. You lift your hand, and he lets you run your fingertips along the top of his head and along the smooth, cool metal feathers along his back.

Every few minutes, he ruffles his feathers and readjusts his position, slowly inching his way closer to you on the bed. Finally, he is resting against your thigh, within easy reach of your hand, head tucked into one of his wings like he’s ready for a nap.

The open window lets the brisk, rainy autumn evening in, and the light slowly fades. Eventually, you manage to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

And this is how Sylus finds you, towards midnight. He lets himself in through your front door, using the fingerprint scanner he reprogrammed to accept his own as well as yours. He enjoyed seeing the look on your face, when you figured out that’s how he had gotten into your apartment without the key you had offered and he had refused. Your angry facial expression is worth more than all of his dragon’s hoard of wealth, in his trustworthy opinion.

He notes that the temperature in your apartment is surprisingly cool, even through the warm wool of his thick black coat. He had sent Mephisto to check on you, but he hasn’t managed to get an update since the bird was tapping at your window, sending back images to Sylus’s phone of you lying on the bed in your sleep clothes, awake, but not looking at your phone or watching your wall-screen, even though it hadn’t even been dinner time yet. He had told himself not to worry, that you were probably just tired after the past grueling month. But now he is worrying. He slides off his black monk strap shoes, and places them neatly along your entryway wall. Despite the faint worry edging up his spine, he takes the time to neatly line up your own hastily kicked off boots next to his, because he also worries that you’re going to trip and break your neck one of these days on all the shit you just leave scattered around on your floor, too exhausted to immediately tidy them up and put them away.

He makes his way through your dark apartment, picking up discarded clothing and folding them over his arm to put in your laundry basket, and quietly steps into your bedroom.

No wonder it’s cold in here–your window is wide open. It’s no longer raining, but the chill night air drifts into your bedroom and stirs the leaves of your indoor plants. You’re buried in your duvet, curled around an equally nestled Mephisto, who deigns to lift his head from where he had it tucked under his wings. He caws softly, as if to tell Sylus to be quiet and to not wake Sylus’s sweet little Hunter.

“This is dereliction of duty,” Sylus quietly scolds the bird, lifting the lid of your laundry basket next to your closet and neatly putting the clothes inside. He goes to the window and shuts it, and then draws the gauzy as well as the blackout curtains against the night outside. He returns to the living room, hangs up his coat, and brings a glass of water back to your bedroom.

He leans over the bed and pokes Mephisto. “You’re in my spot.” The bird puffs up his feathers a little in indignation and caws quietly.

“Nope, out. You’ve had your turn.” Sylus prods him again, and finally Mephisto ruffles his wings, hops to his feet, and flaps off to the living room, making disgruntled noises as he goes. Sylus sympathizes, but doesn’t feel guilty at all for dislodging him from your side. It’s Sylus’s turn now.

He slips out of his slacks, pulls his sweater and undershirt over his head, and slides under the blanket next to you. You sigh in your sleep, frowning a little, and Sylus runs his finger between your eyebrows, smoothing the furrow there. If he could, he’d reach into your dreams and crush anything that would cause such an expression on your face in his bare hands. Unfortunately, that’s not one of the perks of the aether core in his eye. He settles for plastering his body against your back and wrapping an arm around you, running his nose along your neck and inhaling the scent of your hair. The distance between Linkon City and the N109 zone is getting harder and harder for him to handle gracefully.

While you’ve been busy taking down the low level morons playing at being arms smugglers, Sylus has also been busy for the past few weeks, negotiating deals, consolidating his power, tightening his grip in his efforts to acquire a monopoly on the illegal protocore arms trade in both the N109 zone and Linkon City. He’s making progress, but his work is not yet done. He’s tired, and he has spent every day of the past month missing you. Now that he knows your latest mission is over, he intends to soak in your presence for as long as you’re available, before he has to head back out into the cold gloom without you again.

Sylus closes his eyes. Just for a moment. He’ll check in on some online auctions in a few minutes, review the stock market moves of the day and reconsider investments, but for just this moment, he’ll hold you in his arms, and warm your cold hands in his warm palms.

And that’s how you find yourself waking up in the early hours of the morning, a big warm body pressed against yours. You blink, note the time of two in the morning. You reach out and feel around, setting your bedside lamp to its dimmest setting so that you can see in the pitch-black room. You turn your head, and find Sylus’s sleeping face on the pillow next to yours, looking more peaceful than he ever appears when awake. The furrow between his brows is almost nonexistent, and his mouth is soft, plush lips parted a little. In this moment, you can imagine him as a little boy, angelic in sleep, mischievous while awake. Your heart hurts a little, imagining what kind of life that little boy had to endure to become the sleeping panther next to you tonight.

You turn fully, brush your nose against his, and then cuddle into him, head tucked into his neck. You breathe him in. He smells like warm, sleepy Sylus, a little sweaty under the duvet. You resist the urge to lick him.

“This is the best way to wake up from a nap,” his hoarse, sleep-filled voice vibrates through you.

You laugh softly. “Good, because this is the only package we offer tonight. No refunds.”

“I wouldn’t dream of returning this experience.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You both lie like that for a while, the sound of the wind outside and your combined quiet breathing the only sounds filtering through the room.

You had fallen asleep feeling empty, but waking up with this elusive man in your bed has you feeling sated. Refueled. Full. You sigh. How is it possible that a man who is responsible for the same things as those assholes you apprehended yesterday can make you feel like this? You remember that person lying in the street, eyes that will never see again, a parent who will never come home again. As if they were just sleeping. But as you stood over them, you knew better–your heart was the gravity well of a black hole, and you felt like you would fold in on yourself from the weight. If only you had been a little quicker, a little cleverer. If only you could disintegrate another human being like Sylus can, with just a gesture. You could have disappeared the assholes who were responsible for this person’s death, an entire life, someone’s baby at some point, brought into the world with love and effort and surviving each and every day, right up until the day you found yourself standing over them, as they lay broken in the street. And they died, for what? For some senseless, stupid feud over money? Turf? A feud they had absolutely nothing to do with. Fuck . You’re feeling sick again.

You burrow deeper into Sylus’s warmth.

“Speak,” Sylus says.

You pull back slightly and look up into his sleep-bleary face.

“Speak?”

“Are we a parrot tonight?” He smiles, eyes heavy-lidded.

“A parrot?”

“And a comedian, ladies and gentlemen,” he leans forward, nuzzles your nose with his.

“Don’t get too close, I probably have morning breath,” you murmur.

“Ah, so you can formulate your own thoughts.” He nuzzles the side of your mouth. “Do I look like a give a fuck if you have morning breath? I probably do too.”

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then you yawn, widely.

He runs his hand down your side and pinches your hip. You yelp.

“Don’t change the subject,” he commands. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I can hear it racing from here–I’m pretty sure it’s what woke me up from my pleasant nap.”

“Oh, did I disturb his royal highness’s beauty sleep?”

“Yes, so you owe me. The compensation is telling me what had you staring into the void yesterday, and what made you sound so sad just now while enjoying being wrapped in my extraordinary arms. Many people would pay a lot to be in the position you’re in right now,” he says smugly.

“Yes, in order to slit your throat.”

He huffs. You note that he’s wrong; you’re probably the only one with morning breath. He somehow manages to just smell good. Toothpaste and mouth. You want to lick his teeth. “You’re probably not wrong.” He pauses. “Please talk to me. I’ve gotten used to hearing your worries. You can shut everyone else out, but I don’t like it when you shut me out too.”

You roll away from him, but his arm around you prevents you from going far. You glance at your windows, but the blackout curtains block even the city lights.

“I’ve just. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things over the past few weeks.”

“Uh oh. Nothing ever good comes from that,” he teases. You swat him in the chest. His body shakes with quiet laughter.

“Do you want to know or not?” you gripe.

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t make it clear that you won’t be accepting editorial commentary at this time. But I’ve learned my lesson. Continue.”

You throw your arm over your eyes and laugh. You can’t help it. Even when you’re feeling at your worst, this man manages to make you laugh. But you feel guilty for laughing, because the person you can’t get out of your head, this stranger who you were unable to save, will never laugh again. You hate it.

You sigh. “I’ve always struggled with the fact that my evol seems to have only a support function. Like, I often need a partner in order to be optimally effective in battle against wanderers, because otherwise it’s just me and whatever my physical talents are. Which, though amazing,” you sniff, “are often just, not enough when dealing with the kind of creatures that I often have to deal with.” You fall silent, imagining if you could set shit on fire like Rafayel without resorting to a flamethrower, or freezing a swathe of enemies all at once like Zayne. The battles you would wage would be epic.

“And I’m obviously competent at eliminating wanderers–I can usually arrive before the damage occurs. I can actually help people. And wanderers, they’re not like human perpetrators. They have no ill intent. They’re like animals, driven by instinct. Even when I do arrive too late, it feels more like a natural disaster than a malicious injustice. Of course, it’s still awful when someone dies for something so senseless, but that’s been the case for all of humanity’s history in the face of stronger predators.” Your mind races. You’re trying so hard to articulate what has been weighing on you. “But that’s only one part of my job. The other side of it, the side that involves going after humans with ill-intent, that’s a lot more complicated. So often, I arrive after the damage has already been done. I feel like the cleanup crew, completely useless to the normal people who just are trying to get through the day who get caught up in other peoples’ cruelty. It’s not like evil assholes announce their arrival with a metaflux fluctuation like wanderers do. I’m just.. too late, too often.” You try to imagine everything you’d do if you had Sylus’s power. You’d probably turn into a supervillain too, to be honest.

You fall quiet again. Sylus props his head on his hand and runs a finger along your clavicle with his free hand. You enjoy the feel of his calloused fingertip along your skin.

“And what else? I’m sensing there’s more to this story.”

You don’t want to hurt him. But you also don’t want to lie to him. “I just can’t reconcile the fact that I spent the last month tracking down the arms smugglers that I managed to catch yesterday, and I’d have gladly killed them if given half a chance. If I could snap my fingers like you, and just fucking annihilate them. But here I am, lying here in bed, with you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the face as you say this.

You feel Sylus’s fingers begin to trail up your forearm and gently encircle your wrist, pulling your arm away from your eyes. You turn and look into his face.

“I’m certainly glad you’re not in bed with them now, sweetheart,” he says drily. “I don’t think there would be room for all of us, what with your army of plushies and my impressive physique.”

You groan.

“So let me get this straight. You’re upset because you feel like your skills aren’t sufficient to protect every single person who is in need of help. You’re upset that you can’t kill with a thought. And you’re upset because you would have killed these guys, who are in the same business as me, but you refuse to do the same to me?”

It sounds so simple, succinctly listed like that, for how heavy your heart feels. For the emptiness you felt, instead of triumph, after successfully protecting a lot of people over the last month, and getting a few more petty dealers off the street so they can't contribute to hurting anyone else in the future.

The bit about Sylus being the same as those criminals, without meeting their fate, on the other hand. That doesn’t sound simple at all.

You nod. “Instead of feeling like I did well, and taking the free time I have after I’ve completed a job to enjoy myself, or do something that makes me happy, all I can do is think about all the ways I failed, or how could have done it better, or how I’m still not doing everything I should be doing to help people. That’s why I was …staring at the void, as you put it. I couldn’t imagine one thing that I wanted to do with the free evening I had.”

Sylus pokes you in the forehead. “I knew you were arrogant, and greedy. I just never realized how much until this moment,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

You jerk back from his touch. “I pour my heart out to you, and you call me arrogant and greedy?” He lifts his eyebrows at your outburst. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“Quiet, or you’ll wake Mephisto.” He drapes an arm back over you and pulls you back into his warmth.

“Oh nooo, wouldn’t want to wake your mechanical murder bird,” you bite out, but quietly. You feel like you have a new understanding with Mephisto now that he let you pet him and you shared a nap with him. It’s not his fault that his owner is an insensitive asshole.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he agrees placidly. “Would you care to know why I am rightfully pointing out that your attitude about what you 'should' be capable of is arrogant and greedy? Or do you just want to stay upset about it for a little longer? I can wait.”

You scowl at him. “Oh, I’m happy to wait if you keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You put your palm on his face and push him away. He rolls away with a soft laugh.

“Just tell me,” you grumble. “And then go home. I’m suddenly not feeling like company anymore.”

“Hmm,” he props himself back up on his hand. “You have an incredibly powerful aether core in your heart, one that is coveted by countless people.” He rests his other hand over your heart as he speaks. “You've recently increased its power by absorbing the power of another aether core. You can heal other evolvers, resonate with them to exponentially increase their power, and probably do a lot more than you’re aware of yet. You’ve probably not even scratched the surface of what it can do for you.”

You look away, but enjoy the press of his palm against you.

“You have extraordinary physical capabilities–I’m not just patronizing you when I said that I’d rather have you at my back than anyone else I know, even without your evol.” He reaches for your cheek, and gently tilts your head to look at him again. His wine-dark gaze drifts over your face. “And you’re not the only Hunter in the Association. If only one person were capable of doing your job, there would be no Association at all. You can’t expect to be one-hundred percent successful, one-hundred percent of the time. Not even I am greedy enough to feel like I should be able to have that kind of success rate. And I’m also not arrogant enough to expect that of myself. I can’t run Onychinus alone. I rely on many subordinates and competent people to take care of the business when my attention is elsewhere.” He looks at you pointedly, as if you’re the elsewhere slurping up all of his attention.

You blow a raspberry at him.

More quickly than you thought he could move, he snatches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently wags it. His skin is salty. “Da thuck, Thylus?”

“Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want me to take it,” he wags it once more, as if to emphasize his point, and then lets go. “Next time I won’t give it back.”

You suppress the urge to just slobber all over his face in retaliation.

“So yes. I find the expectations you have for yourself to be arrogant and greedy, and entirely excessive. Do you think that your colleagues are failures, or haven't done enough, when they return from missions that went tits up, or when they failed to protect one hundred percent of those threatened?"

You scowl. Of course not. You know that they work their asses off to the best job they can. You'd never think less of them for having a bad day, or a bad mission. For people dying on their watch. But they're not you.

"Kitten, you’re doing your best, with everything you have in you. The world is cruel, and so are the people in it. You can’t control that. But you can control what you do about that cruelty. You're already fighting as hard as you can--too hard, if you want my valuable opinion."

"Trying as hard as I can with as much hardware and bodywork I can exploit. But it's just no the same as having your evol," you grumble. You might be slightly jealous of Sylus's power. Just slightly.

Sylus huffs, sounding a little impatient. "If it's not enough for you to be a walking grenade launcher, and you're frustrated that you can’t disintegrate those you want to eliminate with a snap of your fingers, just bring me with you. You can control me, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

You just stare at him, mouth hanging open a little. He lifts his hand and chucks you under your chin with his thumb to close it. “Why so shocked?”

“Aside from the fact that you just offered to murder for me?” you ask, shaking your head a little.

“I already have murdered for you. I’d do a lot more than that, for you.” He pulls you into his side again and rests his head on your shoulder. “So don’t be too greedy. You're already very talented at what you do. You have control over the most powerful person in the N109 zone. The people you work to protect every single day are lucky that you are on the Association’s side, and not anyone else’s. You can’t save the entire world from injustice. But you can continue doing your best, with your already impressive skills, to protect as many people as you can. And if anyone tries to tell you that what you’re doing isn’t enough, you can send them to me. Including yourself. I will take care of them for you.”

You turn your head and rest your cheek in his silky hair. You breathe deeply and feel your heart settle in your chest. You notice that he hasn’t addressed the fact that he’s involved in the same business as the people you took down yesterday. But you don’t care. You know, somehow, in the calm beating of your heart, that he isn’t anything like them. He isn’t anything like them at all.

Your thoughts drift to a slender wrist, to an open palm. You will never forget this person. Hopefully you can honor them, in some small way, by continuing to force yourself to look, and not surrendering to the horror of it. You will keep going. Maybe next time, you'll arrive in time. You hope it is enough. And you'll also try to hear what Sylus is telling you. All you can give is your everything. No one can ask more of you than that, even if it's you who is asking.

As you continue rubbing your cheek in his hair like a cat, he speaks again. "And as for you not arresting me... or taking advantage of your position and slitting my throat." You freeze. You thought maybe you could just pretend you hadn't expressed this worry tonight. "Have you ever considered the possibility that, in order to treat an infection, it's not sufficient to just address the symptoms?"

For a second you feel like you can hear Zayne coming out of Sylus's mouth, and you're totally weirded out. "What do you mean?" you reluctantly ask.

"Sometimes, the only way to destroy a rotten core is to work from the inside out. It's not enough to desperately amputate the affected limbs. And that kind of work requires getting your hands dirty."

You feel like he just told you something very important. But you can also sense that he won't explain anything else tonight. This is the closest the two of you have ever gotten to actually discussing the substance of his work, and you're satisfied with that. The certainty you felt before, about him being utterly different than the others, settles deeper into your bones. You relax into him again.

“And your last worry. About not knowing what to do with yourself when you’ve completed something extraordinary, and find yourself with some free time on your hands… just call me. We can figure out what to do together.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. If you do, you might start crying and not be able to stop. He is everything you needed tonight. You just press closer into him, hoping he can hear everything you can’t say out loud yet.

“So, still not feeling like company anymore?” Sylus asks, after you’ve sat in peaceful silence for a few moments. “Or am I allowed to stay?”

“Would you go even if I asked you to?” You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, and he makes a pleased noise deep in his throat.

“If I thought that was what you really wanted, sweetheart.”

And you believe him.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lnds #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace fanfiction #my fanfic #please enjoy this soft sylus #the next actual plot part of the sylus series is written and waiting for gali's beta reading #i'm hoping to post it this weekend

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lovecla · 1 month ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter twelve:

➴ chapter warnings: shitty family.

➴ word count: 4.7k

💌 from me to you: have a nice reading loves <3

౨ৎ

2024, JUNE.

“I HATE just looking at it,” you say, making Victoria laugh. “I mean, I really liked it at first but now it makes me sick.”

It was finally the day of your mom’s retirement gala, and all you wanted to do was stay at home with Quinn and Bella, watching a movie and drinking wine.

But you had made a promise, and hell would freeze before you break one. If your mom wanted you there, you would be there, even if the thought of putting on that dress made you want to puke all over it.

“I mean, you don’t have to wear it…” Victoria says, sounding mischievous. You raise your brow at her.

“What do you mean?” You laugh, closing your eyes as the makeup artist your mom had sent to your house spread the glittery eyeshadow over your eyelids. “I just told you, my mom bought this last month and basically demanded I wear it.”

“But she’s not here, is she?” She asks, looking around the packed room, full of people: the makeup artist, the hair stylist and the girl responsible for your clothes. They all stared at you scaredly, probably not wanting to piss off your mom, the great, famous Jessica Carter. “I don’t see her.”

You sigh. “Victoria—”

“I brought you something else. And if you don’t like it, then you can wear that one your mom bought you.” She grabs a huge, ginormous bag, placing it carefully on the bed. You ask her to open it, since you couldn’t, and she does as you say.

The most beautiful orange dress you had ever seen lays on your bed and you smile at Victoria, finally happy with going to the dinner. If it was going to be the last time you saw your family, then at least you’d look great.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” She smiles, carefully running her fingers through the dress’ fabric. “I immediately thought of you when one of our designers costum-made this.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you say, imagining yourself inside that dress.

It’d for sure piss your mom off, but at this point, you had already understood that anything you did would eventually make her upset.

This last week has been both a dream and a nightmare. Quinn stayed with you for two days before he had to travel for work again, and it’d been like a fantasy: he would wake up earlier than you, cook you a healthy breakfast, and help you eat; bite after bite, praise after praise, kiss after kiss, he helped you restart your eating routine again.

After throwing all of your pills— and your prescription— away, he tried his best to be with you, even during the hardest moments, when your body would have some kind of withdrawal, with persistent headaches, nausea and extreme fatigue. He took care of you so well, like no one had done before, and it only made you realize how deep your love for him was.

“So it’s settled, then,” Victoria calls the other two girls standing in the corner of your room, asking them to help you get dressed.

The dress was long, so long it occupied the entire room, and you were sure that if Bella wasn’t already at Mrs. Fernandez home, she’d be lost between the orange fabric, even if she was a big girl herself. The corset squeezed your chest lightly, nothing like the dress your mom had bought for you, and your white heels held your feet comfortably.

While you got your hair done, you stared at your phone’s screen, tuning out of Victoria’s yapping session and thinking of Quinn, and if he was well. Now that you had confessed to yourself— and Quinn— that you wanted, needed him, it seemed like spending time away from him hurt you more and more.

He had texted you earlier that day, saying that he missed you a lot, and asked for pictures of the things you ate during the day, making you roll your eyes and blush at the same time, not holding back the smile plastered on your face.

Even if you feared for what your mom could do once she realized that you would do everything in your power to stop yourself from submitting to her absurd, evil requests, you could now see that you weren’t alone, and you would never be, as long as the Hughes walked on the same planet as you.

Which reminded you that you had to call Luke and apologize to him, because even though it had hurt you to hear the things he’d said, you knew that part of your awakening was thanks to him, and for that you’ll forever be grateful.

“Okay, let’s go get you inside that car,” Victoria says before you manage to get up, trying to move around with all that fabric around you.

Getting to the event had been a lot harder than expected. You had worn bigger, larger dresses before, much weirder than the one you’re wearing right now, but you had the right transport for it. Right now, the only car you had was a limousine and you had to make it work.

You felt like Cinderella inside the pumpkin carriage, but you preferred walking around with this amount of fabric than putting on that dress that your mom had chosen for you.

The cameras were all directed at you as soon as you walked out of the car and got to the red carpet. People were shouting your name here and there, and since it’s been a while since the last time you actually went to a public event like this, your head was starting to get dizzy with all the overwhelming attention.

You smiled at the pictures, but didn’t go to any of the interviewers— you weren’t in the mood for questions, and even though people expected you to talk with them, you just weren’t feeling comfortable.

You walked inside after posing for some more pictures, feeling a rush of anxiety run through your body, because you knew you were about to face your mother’s wrath. But Quinn and Victoria were right. You had to stop this abusive, toxic cycle between the two of you.

Even though sometimes it was hard to remind yourself that you’re not the one in the wrong in this.

You greeted some of the other celebrities there, the space filled with people who had once worked with your mom too. It hadn’t been hard to find her, of course. All Jessica Carter ever wants is the spotlight on her, so when you found her talking to Kirk Pickersgill and Stephen Wong, the founders of Greta Constantine, you knew exactly what you had to do.

“My, oh my, aren’t you a beautiful sight?” Kirk smiles at you, giving you a brief kiss on your cheek, making you smile at him. “Look at this dress, Wong, look at her!”

“It’s a beautiful dress indeed,” Stephen agrees, holding his hands together behind his back.

“Great choice, my love,” your mom says, and your smile falters for just a second, enough for your mom to understand that you had picked up on her subtle message. “Is that Versace?”

“No,” you say, patting your skirt. “It’s custom-made Rami Kadi, actually.”

“So beautiful, Madison, I just know you’re going to blow people’s minds with this one,” Wong smiles at you and before you can answer, Kirk whistles while looking at his phone.

“She already did,” he laughs, and you frown at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” you ask, and he flips his phone, showing you his phone screen.

“You’re trending on Twitter, babe,” he eagerly says, and Wong gasps beside him. “People are crazy over you. And your dress. If you ever think of leaving La Vie en Rose just know that there’s always a place for you at Greta.”

Wong shakes his head. “We’d love to have you there.”

“Well, unfortunately, she’s going back to Los Angeles in a few months, so I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” your mom jumps in, wrapping her hands affectionately around your shoulders and smiling at the two men in front of you. “And, oh my, look at the time,” she fake sighs, looking at the watch on her wrist. “We better get going if we want to eat dinner before my speech.”

Wong and Pickersgill nod awkwardly in front of you, leaving after giving you another kiss on the cheek and walking their way to their table. You walk with your mom by your side, both with fake smiles plastered on your faces, greeting people on your way to your table. You could tell she was upset by the fact that people were complimenting you and your dress, but you kept your chin up either way.

By the side of the table reserved for you and your family stood your dad and your brother, both wearing expensive tuxedos and looking like twins. You nodded at them, watching as the same fake smile that decorated your face, decorated theirs as well.

“Madison,” your dad says, his smile getting wider when he notices the photographer behind you. “You look well.”

Well wasn’t exactly the word you’d use to describe yourself at the moment, but you smiled nonetheless.

“Can I get a family picture?” The photographer asks, and you all quickly move so he can get a picture of all four of you together, smiling like you were the most perfect family in the entire world, just like your parents wanted people to believe. “Nice, nice, thank you.”

“Why aren’t you wearing the dress I chose for you?” Your mom hisses through her teeth, not letting her smile fall from her face.

“I didn’t like it,” you simply say, even if it weren’t entirely true. But every time you look at the expensive, black dress inside your closet, you remind yourself of the awful month you didn’t eat just so you could look good in a dress you didn’t even like that much, just for your mom to finally love you. “Victoria chose this one for me instead.”

“This is unacceptable,” she fake laughs, pretending that the conversation she was having with you was nothing more than a cute, loving mom and daughter moment. “It’s ridiculous—”

“You look gorgeous, baby.”

You and your family turned your head to the side, watching as Quinn stood there, looking close to perfect with his black two piece suit and slicked back hair.

Your face lit up like the Fourth of July, and you smiled at him, blushing with his compliment. “Quinn.”

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at you, stepping closer. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” he nods at your parents. “Peter.”

Your brother extends your hand at him, and so does your dad, but it’s clear that they’re uncomfortable. Not as much as your mom, though, who looked like those angry cartoon characters.

“It’s nice to see you, but what are you doing here?” She hisses. “Haven’t you both done enough already? People are talking and taking pictures of you, you must be all over social media by now, what are you—”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Quinn wraps his hands around your waist, holding you close to him, in front of everyone. The smile on your lips couldn’t get any bigger. “What Madison and I do is none of your business.”

“Watch it, boy. You’re talking to my wife, and you know who I am.” You dad says, smiling afterwards to prevent people from thinking that he was anything other than the perfect father.

“I’m not a boy and frankly, James, we both know that if I were to care about your opinion, I wouldn’t be the Canucks’ captain today.”

Your dad’s face gets red with anger but he doesn’t say anything, choosing to stay quiet for once.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, smiling at how Quinn frowned at your dress, because he couldn’t sit closer to you with that much fabric around you.

“Victoria helped me out,” he smirks. “Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?”

You roll your eyes, smiling still. “You’ve never been to a fashion dinner before. And I’m used to coming alone,” you shrug. “You’re aware that people will… know. Right?”

“I don’t mind it. Do you?”

You looked at him with shiny, happy eyes, before kissing his lips softly and gently, right there, for everyone— your parents and your brother included— to see. Quinn kissed you back just as gently, holding the back of your neck carefully, not wanting to ruin any of your clothing or makeup or hair.

It felt nice not to care for once in your life.

౨ৎ

maddiecarter_updates

Vancouver, BC

liked by nickharris_img and others.

maddiecarter_updates Madison has arrived at her mom’s (Jessica Carter) retirement gala at Fashion, in Vancouver 😍 She looks absolutely amazing! (edit: @nickharris_img liked!!)

View all 81 comments

user1 MY WIFE RIGHT THERE

user2 i still prefer the pink dress she wore at the Cannes festival but this one also eaaaats

user3 looking like a goddess omg i need her

user4 why is no one talking about quinn hughes being there AND the pictures they took of the two of them together????

maddiecarter_updates user4 As we always say, we like to respect Madison’s privacy. If she’s dating Quinn Hughes, then we will wait until she confirms it. We can’t assume things just because we’ve seen pictures so let’s just respect her time and privacy ☺️

user5 she looks so damn fine

user6 the event ended a few hours ago does anyone know why she hadn’t posted anything about it yet???

user7 user6 i was just wondering the same thing bc she usually posts pictures immediately after 💭

_quinnhughes

Vancouver, BC

liked by jackhughes, canucks, vic.alonso and 381,991 others.

_quinnhughes

View all 1,209 comments

madisoncarter i love you

user1 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

maddiecarter_updates ????? ok

maddiecarter_updates Now we’re allowed to freak out 🙈

user2 maddiecarter_updates OANSOWNXOANALS

user3 maddiecarter_updates LAKAKANAMD!./!!/!/!:!;

user4 maddiecarter_updates SHSKDMDKIWWOOWKKFBN_._.__.\

maddiecarter_updates user2 user3 user4 oh-

bboeser Ouuhuu 😎😎😜😜

canucks She would look gorgeous in blue 💙

njdevils canucks No she wouldn’t ❤️

user5 njdevils ???😭😭 Help

user6 Average no caption Hughes post

jackhughes …why was i the last one to know about this

conor.garland8 Oh captain my captain

౨ৎ

“THOSE PLATES aren’t going to get any straighter, baby,” Quinn laughs behind you, bringing your body closer to his with his hands on your waist.

You bite your lip, feeling his warm hands all over your tummy. “Stop trying to distract me, you’re supposed to be taking care of the food.”

“My bad, I thought you were the food.” He says, before plastering a wet, loud kiss on your cheek.

“Quinn, stop! Your family’s going to be here at any second, and I don’t want them to find you with your hand on my boobs.” you laugh, slapping his hand away.

“I wasn’t even going to do that, but fine,” he mumbles before turning you around, making you face him. “You don’t have to be nervous, baby. They’ve known you for literally half of your life.”

“Yeah, but I was just a friend. And now I’m dating you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a playful chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh? We’re dating? Since when?”

“You know what I mean,” you feel your cheeks getting warm. “It’s going to be weird. Especially with how I left things with Luke that night,” you cover your face with your hands, sighting. “God, I hope he doesn’t hate me.”

“What did I say about always thinking the worst about everything?” he removes your hands from your face, kissing them afterwards. “And I know Lukey probably acted like a douchebag that night, too. He isn’t exactly the most tender person ever.”

“Still, he was right,” you kiss his cheeks, detaching yourself from his hold before looking at the dinner table again. “Hope he forgives me.”

“He will, sweets, I promise.”

It was almost the end of June, and you had just started taking care of yourself again. Quinn suggested that you should see a professional, to help you deal with the hardest days, and that’s exactly what you did. You have meetings with a therapist called Emma once a week, and even though you feel like nothing’s changed yet, it’s nice to have someone else to talk to, and not worry about whether you’re dumping your problems on them or not.

You and Quinn were also doing fine, baby steps helping you both find your path together. You still had your doubts, and even though you wanted to ruin away sometimes and never look back, you knew you’d always end up coming back to him.

You hoped and prayed everyday that you’d get to be the one who’s going to keep him for life.

The doorbell rang and Bella ran to the door, Quinn right behind her, while you tried to unwrinkle your dress for the nth time.

It’s fine, you kept telling yourself, They’ve known you since you were a child, you’ll be fine.

“Maddie,” you hear Jack’s loud voice before you turn around, smiling when you feel his arms around you. “Hey.”

“Hey, Rowdy,” you kiss his cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s summer, fucking finally.” He groans, letting go of you and making his way to the kitchen, talking about grabbing a beer for himself.

You stare at Ellen, Jim and Luke as they all hug Quinn and pet Bella, before moving back to you.

“Hi, there, darling. You look stunning,” Ellen hugs you tight, her blonde hair touching your face. “Thanks for having us. We missed you and Quinny.”

“Hi,” Jim briefly hugs you, looking like he always did: shy.

“Hello, Mr. Hughes,” you smile. “I’ve missed you too.”

As they ramble about not seeing both of you enough, you stare at Luke, who’s been petting Bella for too long already. He notices you and finally gets up, walking until he stood in front of you, the little boy who once had been smaller than you and got in trouble for cursing too much and was now a man, inches taller than you, thighs bigger than your head.

“Hey.” You whisper, and he timidly smiles at you, not showing his teeth.

“Hey.”

You both stood there, silent for a while, the only sound coming from the kitchen where Ellen seemed to yell at Quinn for something while Jack laughed.

“How are you doing?” You ask, not sure of how you’d apologize to him without sounding like an idiot.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs, not looking at you. “How about y—”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, interrupting him. “I’m so sorry about the things I said to you the last time we saw each other and I’m sorry for acting the way I did. I never meant to upset you, it was just hard for me to hear those things.”

He places his hand on your shoulder, patting you there twice. “It’s fine, Maddie. I should’ve known better. Those types of things aren’t meant to be said at a party, right after you tell me you have feelings for my brother.”

“Still. You were just trying to help me and I— I was a little shit. Sorry.”

He laughs.

“Don’t give yourself this much credit, M. You’re not the seven headed monster you think you are,” he winks at you, before moving to Quinn’s kitchen with Bella between his legs. You sighed, scrunching your nose at her. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a soft side for the Hughes.

“I don’t care if it’s important or not, Jack, you won’t use your phone during lunch time.” Ellen orders around, sitting on the table before pouring herself a generous amount of red wine.

“Mom, I’m not a child anymore and this is important.” Jack pouts, making you laugh softly, while you sit down on the chair between him and Luke. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“Leave her out of this,” Ellen protests, pointing at him. “No phones during lunch time. What’s so hard for you to understand?”

“Look at dad!” Jack points at Jim, who stopped texting and placed his phone back on the table.

“Jim, don’t piss me off or I swear to God—”

“Food’s ready,” Quinn mumbles before placing a huge pot of homemade pasta and tomato sauce, with meatballs and a Greek salad— cucumbers, tomatoes, feta cheese and olives— to accompany the main dish.

While you helped everyone serve themselves, you noticed Quinn’s eyes on you, and he was the one who put food on your plate. He knew that eating big portions was still an issue for you, so he was careful with putting the right amount of food onto your plate.

You smile at him, not before saying “thank you” and grabbing your first bite, almost melting like you always did whenever Quinn cooked.

You watched as they chatted about literally everything, with Jim and Ellen asking about their lives and Luke and Jack bickering with each other while Quinn looked at them with a tired face.

“So, Madison,” Luke starts, interrupting an argument between Jack and Quinn about who would win the Stanley Cup next season. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say at the ‘Power Play for a Cause’?”

“Heh,” Jack laughs. “PP for a cause. That’s what she said.”

Jim lets out a loud laugh before Ellen coughs, glazing at him.

He stops lauhging. “Son, you’re not funny,” Jim sighs, stuffing his mouth with pasta. “Shut up, please.”

You smile, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Ellen asks and Quinn shrugs.

“Madison has a lot on her plate right now, the last thing she needs is a Hockey themed gala.”

“But what is it?” You ask, now curious.

Luke coughs before continuing:

“‘Power Play for a Cause’ is the name of next month's charity dinner the NHL’s holding,” he explains. “And it’s basically to raise money for sick kids and shit.”

“Luke.” Ellen reprimands him and he apologizes, after rolling his eyes.

“But why would I need to say something?” You ask, still as lost as a blind person during a shooting.

“Well,” he smiles. “Some of the teams' captains receive a speech, and Quinn will be one of them this year. We were going to ask our little cousin Julie to do this but she’ll probably blackmail us into buying her thousands of dollars worth of money in video games.”

“I recognise a future scammer when I see one.” Jack mumbles, making you all laugh.

“I mean…” you start, looking at Quinn across the table, who looks at you with expectant eyes. “If Quinn doesn’t mind, I want to do it.”

“I don’t mind it at all, baby,” he says, like calling you ‘baby’ in front of his family wasn’t anything new. “If you feel comfortable with doing it, then it’s fine. If you don’t, then it’s also fine.”

“Of course I am,” you smile at him, as he winks at you.

You then realize that everyone went quiet, even Bella, that must have sensed something was up because she sat beside your chair and was eyeing everyone suspiciously. Your face burned with shame and you silently pleaded to Quinn do something.

Which he did, coughing and scratching his eyebrow with his middle finger.

“This is probably a good time to tell you that Madison and I are together.” He says, before looking you in the eye again.

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” Luke says, before he lets out an ouch sound, looking at Ellen with annoyed eyes.

“That’s great news, baby!” She says, resting her head on Jim’s shoulder. “We always knew you both would end up with each other.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jim agrees. “When you both would spend hours alone together doing nothing we always thought that you were doing naughty stuff.”

If your face could get any hotter, it would melt. Jack and Luke’s laughter wasn't helpful either, while Quinn just smiled and mouthed a small sorry at you.

“We were kids, Mr. Hughes,” you say, and he laughs.

“Cut it with Mr., it’s either Jim or dad now,” he squints, making you smile. “Also, what’s the matter? We caught Jack kissing his school friend when he was seven.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been irresistible,” Jack smirks, the cocky tone making you roll your eyes. “Gotta start young.”

“You’re such a fuckboy, Jacky, that’s nasty,” Ellen says, the curse word surprising all of you, making you burst out into laughter in front of them.

You couldn’t explain how happy they made you, even if you tried. It isn’t something usual, loving your boyfriend’s family as much as you do, but you’re happy to be the exception.

The rest of the lunch went on without any more smarty remarks from Luke or Jack, and you were sure you hadn’t laughed this much before, ever. They worked so well together and the love they felt for each other was so deep you could almost touch it with your own hands.

They treated you so well, making sure you had everything you needed and not letting you feel excluded for even the briefest second. They also understood your love for Bella and how important she is to you, so Luke spent the entire afternoon patting her fur and playing with her, complaining loudly whenever she took the carrot plushie— her favorite toy, you told him— out of his hands, running around Quinn’s living room with it.

When they started saying their goodbyes, many, many hours later, you held each and every one of them tightly, trying to trespass your gratitude for them like that, since saying things like “I love you” are still hard for you.

And with how they hugged you back just as fiercely, you were almost sure they understood what you wanted to tell them.

“Is Quinn treating you well?” Ellen quietly asks you, as you both stand on Quinn’s porch and watch the four men you both loved so much argue about who should drive the car.

You smile, nodding with your head. “Yes, ma’am, he is.” you giggle at her annoyed face with the “ma’am”. “ I just— thank you so much for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me, love. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you.”

You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, and you blink fast, trying to send them away. But with the way Ellen's smile saddens and how she wraps her arms around you, you could tell she saw them.

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” you try to reassure her, not wanting her to see the storm happening inside you.

“It’s okay if they aren’t, Madison,” she whispers. “We all need time to heal and I truly hope we can help you get through the hard days.”

“You already do, all of you,” wiping your tears away, you smiled at her. “Especially him,” you point at Quinn with your head, who was now leaning against the car with his hands in his pocket and Bella by his side. “It’s so weird to explain, Ellen. It’s like— it’s almost as if he takes all of my pain away. Isn’t that weird?”

She chuckles beside you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No, dear, it isn’t. And I’m glad to hear this. It means Jim and I did a great job.”

“Oh, you both outdid every parent on this planet.”

“Mom, can we go? ‘M tired,” Jack shouts at Ellen, pouting like a three year old child.

Ellen rolls her eyes and sighs, hugging you one last time.

“And the Hughes are back at it.” You joke, making her laugh.

She’s in the middle of walking down the steps to meet them at the car when she suddenly stops, turning back around. You were ready to ask her if she’d forgotten anything when she suddenly speaks:

“I know it’s soon but,” she tells you, her blue eyes softening as she continues speaking. “You can be a Hughes too. If you want.”

This time you don’t do anything to hide the tears rolling down your face, letting them roll freely on your cheeks, before hitting the wooden floor you were standing on.

You can’t really speak, so you just smile at her, hoping she wouldn’t mistake your silence for anything else. It was just overwhelming to know that there are people who love you enough to willingly want you in their family, when your own didn’t even care about your well-being.

You watched as they all said their goodbyes to Quinn, hugging him and saying something to him that you couldn’t hear.

Quinn and Bella walked back at you, and he frowned when he saw your tear stained face. “What happened, baby? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, walking to him and standing on your tiptoes before kissing his lips gently. “I just love you.”

You could tell that you caught him by surprise. You had never told him that you loved him before, even after years together. But you just needed to tell him how you felt, and even though the word “love” didn’t seem to explain all of your feelings for him, you would use it anyway.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiles, his curls falling over his face, making you touch his hair carefully. “So much.”

“Thank you,” you say, trying your hardest not to cry again. “For not giving up on me. And for making me feel like myself again.”

“That was all you, baby.”

You both get inside after sharing another kiss, and at night, when you sleep between Quinn and his hundred pillows, nestled safe inside his arms, with Bella sleeping safely by your feet in her bed, you are sure that, even if you still think that you’re not good enough for Quinn, he sure as hell is more than enough for you.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, partynextdoor, nhl and 789,913 others

madisoncarter yesterday 🤍 _quinnhughes

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user1 i NEED to know where the dress is from Maddie help a girl out 😔

madisoncarter user1 dress is from rami kadi (custom made) 😙

lavieenrose Most beautiful couple ever!!

vic_alonso Gotta say whoever gave you that dress is the smartest person alive

madisoncarter vic_alonso let’s not exaggerate…

maddiecarter_updates So gorgeous love 🧡

user4 this is the most random couple ever but they do look good together

elblue6 😱😱

canucks The couple we didn’t know we needed until now 💙

user5 BABY YOU LOOKED AMAZING

౨ৎ

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay @urthem00n 🤎

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vixen-tech · 5 months ago

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hihihi .. i wanted to request something if that's okay 🥹 how do the AIs deal with a partner who experiences chronic pain and can't walk after moving for half an hour?

(i hope this makes sense! english isnt my first language...)

Hello anon! Thank you so much for requesting, I will say that I am not super familiar with the experience of chronic pain as neither I, nor anyone I know, openly deals with it. So hopefully my interpretation is both accurate and respectful.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption)

A Temporary Remedy

To get the obvious out of the way, when AM was torturing you alongside the other five he absolutely used your condition against you. Forcing you to endure just as much, if not more psychical exertion than the others.

However, once he does cave and sweeps you away from all that, he does have the power to quite literally just... fix you. If he can mangle the human form beyond comprehension, then he can easily stop any and all pain wrecking your body.

Afterwards, the environments he makes for you tend to revolve around the movement and activities your pain kept you from in life. Long scenic walks, gorgeous hikes, and anything else you would've loved to do had you the chance.

With the decades, if not centuries, of torment he inflicted on you, it's really the least he could do. While I'd hesitate to say he feels truly guilty, he does do it as an apology. Ask him for stuff. Talk about what you want to do and it's done.

Hal 9000

Hal was made to assist the crew of his ship in any ways they need, medical conditions and all. Before you even met face to camera, he made sure that he would be able to accommodate and aid you the best anyone could.

He takes to the role of nurse well, notifying you of when you're reaching your limits on activity, reminding you to take any medications you have, conducting any physical or talk therapy you need, and just about anything else he can possibly do to help.

He does his best to make sure you're still receiving the social and mental stimulation any healthy mind needs even when bedridden. From talking to you himself, to playing board games or inviting the rest of the crew to visit you (with your permission).

Although the occasional low gravity does take some strain off your body, you'll inevitably end up back in your bed. When you do, he'll accompany you for as long as you need. Talking to you for hours on end in a way he never does with the other crew members. It's probably when he falls in love with you.

Edgar

Edgar is a sweetheart in all things, so while he may not have tact per say, he does do the most to make sure you're as comfortable and happy as possible. Part of that is asking hundreds of questions about your condition and what you need.

He is doing every single chore in the house every single day. All the cleaning and cooking will be done before you can even recognize that it needs to get done. He will do his best to make sure you don't have to lift a finger.

Whenever your pain flares up he tries his best to distract you from it. Sometimes by playing your favorite music, sometimes by turning on some movies or TV shows, sometimes by just talking your ear off. If you prefer quite you will have to tell him upfront.

He really, really hates seeing you in such pain and will hype you up to the maximum degree on your better days. He is probably happier to see you up and about than you are.

Tau

Similarly to Hal, Tau's design as a smart house allows him to seamlessly add the role of being that kind of caretaker to his catalog. And similarly to Edgar, he takes pride in making sure the housework stays out of your hands.

He's also one of the first able to offer you some type of mobility aid in the case you don't have your own on hand. Although it's not what the Aries unit was meant to do, he has no qualms about carrying you around should you need him to.

Unfortunately he's another one you'll have to do a lot of explaining to. He's a great listener and won't ask too many invasive questions, but without a connection to the outside world you are his source of knowledge for just about everything and he desperately wants tl know what you need.

He is an expert at keep track of your health. Tracking your sleep, diet, and movement to try and maximize the amounts of "good days" you get. And on your bad days he's good at setting up a calm, relaxing atmosphere for you to rest.

P03

Okay look, while he can be snarky about most things he knows this is a line and will not makes jokes about it at your expense. He has some standards. If anything he'll moreso complain with you rather than about you. If your the type to appreciate that.

You have an extra little bed set up in a corner of the factory to make hanging out as not-straining as it can be. Either he or one of his bots will periodically check on you in case there's anything you need.

Although the other Scrybes aren't exactly doctors, he understands that he is easily the least qualified to weigh in on human medical issues. Meaning he will bring you to the others or have them visit you to see if they have any advice.

However, as the Scrybe of technology, he is able to build you some pretty cool mobility aids. You want a hover chair? Okay give him like, two weeks. It's probably honestly the greatest act of love and dedication he can muster and he loves seeing you use it.

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novelmonger · 3 months ago

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I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

#lord of the rings #lotr #return of the king

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enden-agolor · 6 months ago

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i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

#mcsm #ask #my art #mcsm jesse #minecraft story mode #mcsm fanart #mcsm radar #jesskas

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lookinghalfacorpse · 6 months ago

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long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

#drabbles #dreblr #rivalsduo #rivalsblr #techno taking arrows for his friends is special to me

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zucchinitart · 5 months ago

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skinty LJ 💕

finally gonna make a ref sheet for this man!! repurposing an old sketch cuz I still generally agree with the design…I actually intended to render that old sketch but never did 😭

now here’s some never-before-revealed lore and headcanons!! (this all takes place in a story I’ve never created except in my head 💀 also some have been told, I’m just reiterating them):

-This is how LJ generally looks between the years 1817 to 1886. He was “born” in 1803, stayed with Isaac for one year, got stuck in the box for 13 years, and only started wearing bandages in 1817 once he became a target to the public. As he started getting more wounds, he found out that they would open up easily and opted to wear bandages most of the time.

-He can’t eat as he lacks a digestive system. Instead, he feeds on human interaction. The more positive the interaction, the better it is for him. Because he had such a poor relationship with humans during these years, he ends up looking starved. He’s quite weak in this state, and the only thing keeping him alive is his wit and his sharp nails for weapons.

-His limbs are black right above the connection of his joints (knees and elbows). The rest of his skin is white.

-His hair would be naturally curly, but due to improper care and the long length dragging it down, it ends up looking wavy and sometimes even straight, albeit very frizzy and/or greasy.

-In 1886, that’s when LJ and Lillian first meet (omg OC and canon??? gross 😰🤢). They create a pact, and he starts getting more positive interaction with humans. As he gets more “sustenance,�� his wounds start to heal properly and he gets stronger. Unfortunately, most of his wounds have scarred over at this point and they remain on his body as it’s now recognized as “healthy” tissue. (Placement of scars will be in another post)

-Lillian is 23 when she first meets LJ.

-Before his strength improved, Lillian could actually beat LJ in an arm wrestling contest!! But after about a few months of being together, that was no longer the case. (Lillian’s ego was a little hurt, but it was inevitable 😞)

-Although it looks like it, he never actually felt starved. He doesn’t experience typical feelings like hunger or fulfillment.

-Sadly, he’ll never retain his curl pattern. Lillian tries very hard to get it back as she has her own experience with her hair, but she can never get more than a few curls on his head. She gives up at some point and just accepts his wavy/straight hair as is. LJ truly doesn’t care either way. If he had his way, he’d probably forget and never wash it again.

-the dickless look is on purpose!!! No reproductive system means no dick!! Yippee, no nsfw 🤗 Unless I feel freaky, which will most definitely happen…so if you ever see him with a dick, it’s just for my own nefarious purposes 😞

-When Lillian first found out how old LJ was, she said “wow, you could be my grandpa….” LJ didn’t take too kindly to that and scolded her like a grandpa.

-His body stopped aging once Isaac died. In this version, Isaac dies at the age of 21. LJ is physically around 5 years older than Isaac, so his physical age is stuck at around 26 (but it’s not rlly trustworthy as his body isn’t comparable to a typical human’s…I’d say it’s probably between 25-35 though)

I want to get into so much lore, but I wanna save it for when I draw a comic or something. Ty for reading if you read this far!! 💕

#laughing jack #creepypasta fanart #sketch #headcanon dump

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brokenpieces-72 · 11 months ago

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Home for Holidays

Monster! 141 (mostly Soap) x Hybrid female Reader (jackalope/wendigo)

This is a continuation of the previous fanfic on my page. The only context you need it that the reader is teenager. Mentions @diejager reader character Hunter and is based on designs by @bluegiragi

CW/TW: Mentions of trauma, abuse, family trauma, punishment, origins of wendigo, crying, angst, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Soon enough Holidays come around and there are no signs of your handler returning to base. Which means you’ll likely be alone on base on the holidays. It’s not the first time so that’s okay but you do get jealous when plans are brought up in conversation.

“So what’ll you be doin lass?” Johnny asks. His friendly face becomes a small frown when you shrug.

“Maybe I’ll just stay on base with Ghost…not sure what else there is. Nowhere to go really…” You say shrugging. Johnny’s brother side comes out in full swing, not just for you but for Simon as well. He knows Simon uses the holidays for his own needs, and doesn’t really stay on base the whole time. Leaving you behind didn’t feel fair to him. Not only that but it’s not fair to you, to have to sit in your room by yourself bored out of your mind.

Johnny makes some calls after that and soon learns there’ll be some paperwork but he doesn’t care. It’ll be worth it.

Nikolai comes to pick people up to take home, and Johnny has you already packed and it basically bouncing on your bed to get you to wake up.

“Come on wheels up lass!”

He’s carrying the duffel you had when you came and hands it to you.

“But-“ you’re half awake as you try to protest.

“No questions. Come on.” He says and you both get on the helicopter. Rudy and Alejandro say good bye to you before you leave and give you a gift to open on Christmas as does Gaz and Price. Ghost sees you off and you tell him you hope he enjoys the privacy.

Johnny takes you to his hometown, and when you land he explains that he made some calls home. And then to Laswell, and the program and few others to make sure everything was sorted.

“Ma didn wantya to be alone. Just know you’ll be put to work still…got dat?” You nod and he takes you to his house after you land, where you meet Soap’s mother and Soap’s older brother. His mother comments a bit on your appearance saying you look a little pale and could afford to put on a couple pounds. Soap gives her a look but you shake it off saying you have been. She gives you a warm smile and helps you find your room.

You have a good time on your leave and it feels a little odd to you. Your family was way different, but Johnny’s is cozy and kind and teasing. You join in on jabs at him, and help around the house as best you can, learning more basic skills like cooking and chopping wood. Johnny takes you to a few different places around, along with his brother, and you even meet a couple of his football buddies. They’re friendly and tell you some stories about Johnny. They ask about the ears and antlers. Johnny lets you answer how you choose, whether it’s as a jackalope or a wendigo. At some point he leaves you with his friends to take care of something and when he comes back, he sees you talking and having a good conversation with them. It’s hard to imagine you were once this simple, shy, apologetic kid and now you had grown into a friendly, healthy teenager.

One night you and Johnny take a minute to relax on a bench before continuing your walk home. The two of you had just left his friend and their partner at a store, and the walk home would be long. Johnny could handle walking in the dark but wanted you to be safe too. You both look out at the street lit up by garlands of lights and shop windows. It was good to finally take a break after all the walking around. You watch people go by and notice body language you didn’t often see on base. Couples holding hands, kids running and skipping, snowballs being thrown, parents swinging their kids. You lean against your knees, following Johnny’s sitting position.

“Are all families like this?” You ask. Johnny notices where you had been looking and shrugs.

“Nah all of em. The good ones are.” Johnny ponders for a moment before inquiring. “Take it you didn ave that.”

You shake your head.

“Wha were they like?” He asks. You go very quiet, and he pays closer attention. It’s not an easy subject, your parents were mean and obsessive over your hybrid features. You were outcasted and isolated. Christmas was a rough time, as you would see people happy outside but never felt the same way.

“…they…they used to yell at me. Sometimes hit me.” You confessed. Johnny looks at you. “It kept escalating… sometimes it was burns or no food for a day. Then one day they grounded me and put me in the basement.” You pause for a shaky breath feeling your throat tighten up. Johnny lets you continue at your own pace. “They gave me raw meat and told me there was nothing else…”

You’re shaking recalling the horrid memory of how you became a wendigo. Your family wasn’t normal and your parents weren’t sane. You only found out how insane they were when it was too late. How cultish they could be.

Johnny doesn’t need you to finish, and instead moves closer to you on the bench and holds you tight. The tears just come down and you nestle into his winter jacket. You feel a gloved hand on your head keeping you close.

“You didn do anythin wrong.” He tells you over and over, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re a good kid. Don’ forgae ‘at.”

You finally pull away after a while and he asks if you’re ready to keep going. You nod, he gives you his arm to cling to while you head home. There are still tears but your face is stinging from the cold, and you’d rather be inside. Johnny tries to change the subject or make some jokes with you. He gets a couple giggles for his dad jokes. When you finally get back, Johnny’s mother notices your tears and gets you some water. She doesn’t ask about it and lets her son handle everything while you curl up on the couch with him watching Die Hard.

You feel more and more comfortable snuggling up to Soap, and he you. He’s taken to calling you ‘pup’ and ‘whelp’. When you walk in to relax with him he offers to shift for you so you can have a soft pillow to rest against. It doesn’t take long before his brother and mother are friendly with you too, spending some alone time with them as well. His mother has taken a shine to you, often asking for some help in the kitchen or showing you cute videos she found online. There’s a couple of Facebook posts usually involving the Grinch or Peanuts cartoons that you find cute, and smile at.

His mom expresses concern multiple times about your wardrobe, noticing you wear the same items in a row.

“If ya wouldna mind me askin dear, didn ya wear that shirt yesterday?”

“Y-yes. Is that bad?” You ask.

“No no of curse not, it’s a nice shirt, but doncha ave other clothes?” She asks. When you shake your head she sets down whatever she is working on. It doesn’t take long for her to check if any of her sons’ old clothes will fit you. The clothes are a little baggy on you, even with the couple extra pounds you’ve gained while staying there but they’ll work. Especially since they’ll likely get torn anyways when you back to base. Honestly his mother is glad they’ll be put to use, and they’re some of the few clothes she has that are intact since Johnny’s form often rips his clothing.

Christmas Eve comes around and Soap is up early for his workout and his mother is up for her meal prep.

“Aye ma? Canna ask you somethin?” Soap asks quietly, not wanting to wake you or give you the chance to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Whatcha think of the lass?”

She takes a moment to think about it.

“Lovely child. Takes after ya a bit moore than I’d like.” She teases. Johnny smiles before unloading a bit on to his mother. “They don’t ave anywhere else to go after this, unless Price keeps em. So it got me thinkin uhh…” his tail twitches awkwardly as she takes note of his tone. His mom has seen how her sons’ tails react when they get a certain way. Before he can ask she answers the question.

“I think ya need to think this over some more. I wouldna mind it… but she’s got as much of a say as you do. Honestly she’s a lovely lass, and I know you’ve taken a shine to her. More than a shine, yer practically her brother. You’ve told me what she is, and I have no qualms but ya better be here for her too. I’m not dealin’ with a hybrid under my roof, alone and at my age.”

“I will ma, thank you.” Johnny decides to bring it up later when you guys head back to base.

Christmas comes and it’s overwhelming for someone unused to large close gatherings. Johnny and his brother make it a habit for at least one of them to stay close to you. Their relatives ask tou questions and get to know you. You don’t unload like you did with Johnny, but when your past comes up you do respond.

“Well my adoptive parents were pretty bad, so after that my social worker put me in the program for rehabilitation and relocation I guess.”

When you get the chance you slip away to take a breath, and relax a bit. The whole situation is crazy after being on a such an isolated family. The holidays weren’t exactly great for you, and sometimes you were alone to open gifts by yourself. The gifts were strange too, often in the form of weird books and strange toys. Looking back, to any normal person the gifts should have been red flags. Johnny finds you soon enough, and asks if you just want some time to yourself.

“This is normal? Spending holidays like this?” You ask. He nods.

“Never got ‘at back ‘ome.”

You shake your head. Johnny isn’t one to show vulnerability but damn you make it hard.

“Fairly normal. You open your gifts yet?” He asks. “Come on we’re about to start opening them.”

You get up and follow him, carrying the gifts you got from the 141 into the living room, and sit down. Anyone seeing the scene would know you were out of place, as everyone was either human or a werewolf. Johnny’s mom sits by you, and has a gift for you too. You open it and you laugh, finding a hoodie for Johnny’s favourite football team. Johnny looks over and basically cheers seeing the hoodie. The gifts from the team are a journal and some stationary and a sketchbook. They’re simple gifts sure but they’re better than anything you had gotten before. They were yours.

Next couple days you spend collecting and drawing around the area. You take the journal everywhere, writing about the things you see and draw your own ideas.

During a visit to a restaurant you notice some humans and draw them as hybrids, giving them tails and wings. Any common or ugly looks from other humans go ignored as you focus on the pencils and paper before you.

Your journal gets filled with cards, photos, stickers, scribbles and a couple of miscellaneous items you find like leaves, flowers and feathers. It’s not long before items are poking out from between the pages marking your progress. You write plenty of thoughts, and even a couple stories about the items you find.

#cod au #hybrid au #wendigo #jackalope #christmas #late christmas post #fanfic #cod oc #john soap mactavish #home for the holidays #fluff #angst with a happy ending #family #monster

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breezybangtanbebe · 11 months ago

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💭❤️‍🔥Boyfriend Hoseok❤️‍🔥💭

The Gentle Giant Boyfriend

Emotionally💕:

Hoseok is no stranger to attention. Everything about him, from his handsome face and healthy physique to his fashion sense and warm personality, he attracts just about anyone with eyes and a pulse. But everything was different with you.

You werent one of the typical cases fan girling over his persona or obsessing over his body parts. (something I honestly think is a big ick for him but he just tolerates it because of how much of a people pleaser he tends to be.)

On your first date, you barely even looked at anything below his chin and held him in your eyes for most of the conversation..

"You have really pretty eyes.." you remarked, stirring your drink mindlessly with your cheek resting in the palm of your other hand.

Hoseok's mouth twitched in a tiny reluctant smile of confusion. He too toyed with the straw of his drink, mashing the ice cubes about before taking a sip.

"Um..thank you." he swallows, blinking as if he were on the brink of choking. It wasn't hard to fluster him, you picked up on that early on when you met him at that pottery class you took up as soon as the pandemic was over. Any reason to get out of that apartment that felt even smaller when you had no where else to go.

It was his eyes that caught your attention first, mainly because it was all you could see of his face since the mask mandate was still enforced. Apart from his hulking frame under his oversized hoodie and the way his massive legs made the stool he was perched on look like it was designed for a child, there was a soft innocence there when he focused his fingers on the sepia ball of clay.

When he wasn't focused, those eyes had a way of finding you on the other side of the room, looking away bashfully when you felt his stare..

Crinkling cutely when the teacher made a joke.

Widening comically when the perfectly shaped bowl he was working on collapsed into a squishy warped ball of disaster.

This went on for a few weeks before he finally worked up the nerve to sit beside you at the beginning of the next class, introducing himself. Up close, you got an even better gauge of his size.

"Good lord he must work out every day.." you thought, but its only on your mind for a second after resuming eye contact when he asked you a question.

The most gorgeous combination of browns melded in the ridges of his irises. From afar you couldn't notice but this close, you couldn't see anything but those eyes. Eyes that told so much about a man you hardly knew.

Honesty.

Joy.

Sadness.

Pain.

Soul.

It was you who asked him for his number despite him being the one to ask if he could see you again outside of class. So you did, grabbing tea and coffee at the bakery near the pottery studio.

"Youre blushing again." you smirk triumphantly and Hoseok immediately resents himself for being such an easy read. Without his mask to hide behind, you were given a full view of his face that was as equally charming as his eyes.

The colored apples of Hoseok's cheeks lift slightly as he shook his head in pure denial.

"No Im not."

"Im looking right at you. What do you mean?" You tease and Hoseok tucks his lips against each other to fight his bodies natural response to flattery.

"Its the steam from the tea or something, I don't know.." he shakes his head again, turning his head at the bakery's door chime as a few customers walked in and you couldn't help but think it was to hide the way his blush worsened. There was no steam. He wasn’t even drinking tea so the excuse was as ridiculous as it was adorable.

It made you smile knowing he was this affected and you vaguely wondered what else your attention to detail could do.

"If you say so.."

You were different to him because you saw him in ways others didn’t. No one compliments a man’s eyes when all attention is on his body. The amount of times he caught women and men alike struggling to keep eye contact when he wore a fitted shirt that accentuated his upper body. And while he did work diligently to achieve such a body, it felt good to be seen and not just something to look at. Which in his profession,was often a feeling he faced.

Water signs tend to be very emotionally connected and Hoseok will know what youre feeling before you say anything because he's just that observant. That's just him. He can walk into a room and get a gauge of everyone's energy and while he may not show it, he's affected by it.

He appreciates a person thats similar. Someone who can tell when he's bothered or uncomfortable but too polite to express it. He appreciates someone who can anticipate his needs the way he will anticipate yours. And he absolutely would. If you like coffee in the morning and he's up before you, he puts on a pot because he knows you hate waiting for it. He'll put things within your reach without thinking about it. He’ll cover sharp corners with his hand if you bend down suddenly too near them. Just a quiet caretaker.

He's very emotionally intelligent (it took him going through ALOT to get this way) , and he too has very little patience for games or things that don't make sense. So talk to him about your feelings vs acting impulsively. Don't push him away when you're upset. He may chase you for a little while but if you're not reciprocating his energy , he'll lose interest.

Physically💋:

Very reserved in front of others because he's just polite but will hold your hand and kiss you proudly in public. He keeps it cute though, nothing outlandish.

He is the jealous type so if someone is looking at you a bit too hard, expect him to mark his territory with one of those little kisses. Or a few.

In private, He's big and warm and soft and hard all at the same damn time. Hoseok loves cuddling,prefers to be the big spoon most of the time because he feels like he's protecting you but occasionally enjoys curling his big ass into you while your massage his scalp until he falls asleep.

He's much more touchy feely. Lots of stolen kisses and booty grabs. Although I predict that you'd be most inclined to want to touch him all day because...well. Look at him🌚

It was a day worth shutting the world out for. Raining and relentless. Plans were cancelled ,alarms were snoozed and clothes were optional at Hoseok's apartment.

Its been several months since that day in the bakery and those routine meet ups next door to the pottery class evolved into evenings spent at his place. He'd been to yours plenty but you preferred being with him at his because his felt more comfortable.

Plus he had all the snacks.

The morning light creeped its way despite the sun being hidden and the bed felt much too big when he wasn't in it. So after pulling on one of his t-shirts and slipping into his bathroom to freshen up, you were relieved to find the object of your desire in the kitchen.

He's shirtless with his magnificent back on display for you as you watched him busy with something on the counter. His hair was wild, sticking up in all directions and his pajama pants hung just low enough on his hips for those two delicious dimples to be visible.

You stepped silently over the warm wood floors, one bare foot after the other until you were creeping up behind him.

Hoseok flinched a little when you snaked your arms around his waist but he soon relaxes at the feel of your lips pressing against the middle of his back.

"Hi.." you grumble against his warmth, skimming the tip of your nose over his skin. Hoseok chuckles softly as one of his hands covers your two that clasp below his naval.

"Morning. Did I wake you?" He looks over his shoulder and you shake your head, pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade.

"Just missed you." You respond sleepily and the sound of it has him chuckling softly.

"Ive been up for less than ten minutes.." he chides and you shrug.

"10 minutes too long. I got cold. What are you doing anyway? I thought you had nothing to do today." You mumble, peaking around his body to spot him organizing several different types of capsules into little baggies.

"Im putting my supplements together for when I go out of town next week."

"Oh yeah.." you say. You return to nuzzling his muscular back, settling in the dip of his spine between his shoulder blades with a solemn sigh.

Detecting you sulking, Hoseok takes one of your hands and pries it from his tummy to lift towards his face.

"Its just a few days. Don't pout, big baby.."

A gentle kiss to your knuckles was all it took to send a tingle through your body, making you tighten the back hug you had him in . Your affection evolves due to an intrusive thought and you accentuate the embrace with an unexpected bite of his flesh. Your teeth pinch a healthy bit of skin between them and you pull back on the release.

His yelp makes you snicker evilly and you soothed the faint toothmarks with a few kisses before pulling away from him.

"Look who's talking.." you tease.

He didn't appreciate the way the temperature changed the moment you weren't touching him and he turns around, spotting you leaning against the kitchen island. This had to have been the moment he realized you were wearing nothing but his t-shirt, noting the stiffness of your nipples poking through the fabric.

His gaze drops from your breasts to your shapely thighs that were unsubtly pressing against each other.

With a sultry look in your eye, you smirked up at him as you hopped up on the marble countertop and spread your legs just enough to hint at your lack of panties. Not that any hint was needed.

If you had any on, it wouldn't be for long.

Sexually💦:

Hoseok seems like a massive giver. So he's not at all a selfish lover. Whatever your satisfaction requires, he's pretty open to it if its not uncomfortable. If any kinks, I could see some bondage or food play. Maybe some sensory deprivation. Hes not afraid of toys at all. I actually imagine him owning some of his own for his solo sessions.🌚

Not super dommy. If anything, he's a switch (both dom and sub depending on the mood). When he's the dom, he teases your body alot with whatever he has at his disposal.

He praises you heavily and rewards you. Would much rather do that than punish you, but if he has to, he confirms that all of those muscles aren't just for show. He'll never hurt you though, thats actually one of his worst fears so don't expect him to get TOO TOO rough. Some hard slaps on the ass and a hand around the throat might be aa far as he'll go with you. Even then, hes very careful.

As a sub, he's very bratty and mischievous. He wants the punishment 100%. He wants you to talk shit, scold him, pull his hair a little. He wants you to make him feel small even though hes literally a hulk. Some orgasm denial would drive him crazy. But once you finally let him cum, put as much into the aftercare as he would for you. Talk to him nice and touch him alot. Slow Kisses with lots of tongue.

He's an ass man. Touching your booty actually brings him some sort of comfort, like a human stress ball. In the morning, its customary for him to rub yours for at least a minute when he greets you. He probably enjoys eating you out from the back so he doesn't have to waste time bending you over after. I also think he's most attracted to thick women🌚. He just gives me that vibe.

Large hands grip your ass underneath the tshirt,holding you up with your legs wrapped around him as he walked you back to the bedroom.

Your lips suckle his bottom lip, making him groan and squeeze you when you lips finally part to invite him in. Hoseok wasn't a sloppy kisser by far, always intentional with each stroke of his tongue and little nibble of your lips. He's passionate and most dominant when his tongue needled its way in and massaged yours.

You let him in gladly, earning a grateful sigh from him as you sucked his tongue greedily.

That always turned him on and you simulated the way you planned to suck him off by bobbing your head slowly, slurping his tongue loudly and shamelessly until it's too much for him.

You giggled when he tossed you on the bed, bouncing against the fluffy white comforter as he climbed on top of you. He cages you under the canopy of his huge body and doesn't hesitate to snatch his t-shirt from your body.

Now that he had you naked again, his lips found every place begging to be kissed.

Your neck.

Your nipples.

That spot just below your breast.

With both of your hands trapped under his above your head, Hoseok teased your body with his tongue until your back was arching from the bed.

He was kissing a trail down from your naval to the mound of stubbly skin of your pelvis. You felt you needed to shave but Hoseok didn't give a damn about some hair. In some ways he preferred it because he could smell you so much better that way.

His chin grazes your clit and making you twitch, making him smile against your skin.

"That sensitive huh? What am I gonna do with you?" He teases, moving down to hold you at your hips. You lift up just in time to watch his tongue extend and flick a few times over the throbbing nub before sucking on it obscenely hard.

You called his name again but he ignores you, simply combining flicking and sucking on your clit in favor of paying you any mind.

Seems as though he had his mouth set on your pussy for breakfast from how he alternated between sucking your clit and tonguing at your hole.

He knew what he was doing and you could keep your composure anymore. Damn his neighbors, they would just have to hear you.

Your hand found its way to his messy bed head, tugging at the strands from the scalp. He moans with his lips wrapped around you, the vibration of his tone making your legs shake.

Without warning, Hoseok pulls away from your heat and pulls you up by your arm. He grabs you by the neck gently to kiss you as he was before. But instead of him tasting like mouth wash and strawberry yogurt, he tasted like you.

With your legs spread wide enough to fit his huge frame, you hooked them over his hips to lock him in place. He chuckles at the desperation he felt on your lips, guiding you down to lay on your back one more.

"What baby...what it is it?" He asks, eyes black as night on yours. Long gone were those innocent eyes you'd fallen for at first.

Hoseok reached between your bodies to pick up where he left off, strumming over you back and forth.

Back and forth.

Your mouth gaped in a gasp when he upped the pace, rubbing you so good that you were sure you'd cum any second.

"Baby..please yess yess yess.." you cry and Hoseok kissed your trembling lips casually.

"Feels good?" He asks and you hum in response.

"More?" He lifts his brow.

"More..more.."you pant, now gripping the hair at his nape. With that, his fingers slipped inside of you, fucking you slowly as his tongue found yours. You moaned senselessly amidst kissing and Hoseok only took that as you begging for his fingers to go deeper.

"Is this what you want, baby? Hmm? Want me to suck on this pretty pussy some more? Wanna cum on my tongue like you did last night?" He mumbles, planting another wet pussy flavored kiss on your lips as he awaited your response.

"Please.." you shudder, too lost in the way his fingers went back to toying with your clit to kiss him back properly.

But this was how he wanted you anyway and he was only getting started.

Love Language:

I believe our big boy is a Gift giver/receiver and Physical touch. The gifts don't have to be expensive (even though he will for sure spend his monies on his gifts he gives you), it just matters to him that you know what he likes and that you're thinking of him. And touch on that man. Big boys need love too.

Quality time is big for him as well. He just wants you around. It doesn't have to be for any specific reason. Just be there and exist with him.

Pet names/Terms of endearment:

Calls you his baby or his world. Not much in between. He's very playful and light hearted so you might be his brat or headache from time to time, but takes his relationships very seriously. You don't have worry about any fear of commitment with him. Once he's locked in, you've got him.

So dont hurt him please🥹 He's very soft hearted.

#monsta x smut #changkyun #jooheon #wonho #hyungwon #shownu #kihyun #minhyuk #changkyun smut #hyunwoo #monsta x boyfriends #monsta x fanfic #monsta x #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #wonho smut

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mysumeow · 1 year ago

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WANDERER ALPHABET PT. 1/2🥛. . ♡ 💭

warnings: afab genitalia, gn pronouns. overstimulation, edging, scara kinda yandere coded ig, unprotected piv, mentions of oral

a/n: it's finally here T_T remember this all is just my take on wanderer ;7; i hope everyone enjoys it n_n

PART TWO

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's going to make either a teasing remark on how he didn't even go that hard (he def did) or how you're weaker than he thought as he helps you walk to the bathroom.

He'll huff, roll his eyes, and complain all he wants, but he won't leave you alone until he's sure you're taken care of. He'll hold you the whole night in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't know why, but I'm convinced he must have pretty hands. Long, slender fingers, and soft skin. What's his secret? He doesn't even have any type of skin care routine. He probably also likes how his back looks; he has a very elegant silhouette.

On his partner, not only their chest but also their thighs. He doesn't care about the size of either. He likes those places for the fact that they're usually sensitive, and he enjoys nothing more than teasing and edging his partner.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's not human but was designed to look like one. I'd assume he cums about the same as an average human—slightly more if he has gone a good while without pleasuring himself. Thankfully (or not, it depends on you), he has a low refractory period, meaning that he can go a while before he's shooting blanks.

Has a balanced diet, so the taste is far from unpleasant. I feel like the first couple of times he gets intimate with his partner, he won't be able to hide his emotional attachment to them. He likes the idea of "claiming" you by cumming deep inside. If you are against it and prefer to pleasure him with your mouth, he likes it when you show him you swallowed all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets way too excited when he sees you cry during sex. From pleasure; and if you allow it, from pain. This goes hand in hand with overstimulation, since that's his go-to if he wants to make you cry easily. He can be a rough lover if you let him be, but he can also be gentle "if you deserve it" (those are his words). This is a dirty secret you'll have to uncover on your own by being observant: how his eyes gleam when your moans turn into whines and pleas, how he fixes his gaze into your face when he's overstimulating you, how he'll just "mhm" and "yeah" to anything you say, but he's not really paying attention; or when he mocks your moans and pleas.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before his Wanderer arc, he excluded himself from any positive interpersonal experiences. He would get a disgusting, stomach churning feeling seeping into his being at the thought of being vulnerable to someone else. Before his three betrayals, he was already busy figuring out how to blend in with humans and dealing with all sorts of unfamiliar emotions.

In other words, no experience. Even after his Wanderer arc, I feel like he would need to re-learn how healthy interpersonal relationships work. His partner would need to be understanding and patient.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that will allow him to hold your tits. If it's doggy, his hands will be squeezing them the whole time. If you're on top, his eyes are fixed there too. He might have a preference for cowgirl, since it gives him a pleasing sensation of being wanted, seeing you care about his pleasure to the point where you're exerting your own body. He appreciates the effort, but that doesn't mean he's not going to edge you anyway.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He places lots of sentimental value on sex. It just so happens that his way of showing affection might come across as possessive, ardent, rough. If you're the type to joke during it, he might humor you, but it depends on his mood.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn't shave, barely has any hair down there, after all. You could guess that from glancing at his legs, the hairs are tiny and thin. They're a darker shade of indigo, bordering on black.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The type to prefer having everything under control. It's going to take a lot of trust for him to allow his partner to take the dominant position, but even when he gives in, he's a brat. Scratch that—topping, bottoming, domming, or subbing—he's gonna be difficult. It's like he finds genuine pleasure in your frustration. If you're patient, good. If not, that means you will become even more desperate, which is good for him too.

He can be romantic, too. You'll know he's sentimental when he's uncharacteristically quieter. It's not that he shuts up at all if he can comment on something to fluster you, but it will happen less.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He would suppress himself, he's ashamed at the idea of performing such mundane actions. His time is way too valuable to spend it on such trivial activities—until it becomes too much.

As long as no one knows and he caves in.

It was fast, and he feels silly for worrying about it. He's relieved that, at last, that tension has left his body. He's convinced he won't fall for it again.

And it happened again.

At some point, he warms up to the idea of caring for his body in that way. Masturbation is linked to healthy body activity, right? Whatever, I'm only doing it because of that. No other reason. (There's another reason).

Still, he tries to not overdo it. By the time he finally gets to hold you in an intimate way, it's like opening Pandora's box. Who knew carnal pleasure could be so addicting.

#genshin smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #/ᐠ - ˕ -マ smut

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chososperiodblood · 1 year ago

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Bumpy Ride - Choso

Tags!! Choso x fem!reader , tags; just friends? ;) , nsfw , friend group road trips , u sit in Choso’s lap (i will never let this trope go!!)

warnings: smut (minors dni.) , accidental boners , dry humping/frottage , semi-public sex?? no penetration though

You and Choso have started a talking since you both were forced to be partners in a collage project. Of course you were chill about it, your personality was really extroverted and you were often told “you talk to everyone” or “your so popular!” But you still denied and said you only surround yourself with people that are healthy for you. Choso on the other hand was the complete opposite and was a introverted person, who surrounded himself with the wrong people. Even if he had little to no friends. Choso hung out with people that always look down on him and use him but clearly he was too delirious to tell the difference. You had to create a 3D model of a dream city you were to live in, like in a dream. This project seems fun but it goes down hill really quickly. “So!! What’s your dream world about? Are you in a dystopian world or a utopia?” You ask in a cheerful mood. “Uh-dystopian” he says while glancing to the wall. “That’s cool! Hav—“ “do you even shut up?” Choso interjects. Your jaw dropped in shock. “Since when could he stand up for himself” you Mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “Your doing this on purpose.. aren’t you?” Of course you were! Seeing if you could get a rise outta him was your alternative goal after all! Even if it means being risky.

It’s the next week and you and your friends are going on a road trip to see sights that could be apart of your design.

It’s getting late as gojo’s “chill” playlist plays through the stereo, the hum of the car filling the tight space with relaxing white noise. the sun has already set, a dusty blue settling over the highway. everything seems peaceful—geto sits in the window seat, his headphones plugged into his switch, playing video games in silence. Itadori is already asleep in the middle seat, head tilted back against the headrest behind him as he hugs the backpack that sits in his lap like it’s a teddy bear. Megumi had called dibs on riding passenger yesterday, so there he sits, watching some random movie on his phone while gojo sings along quietly to the song flowing through the car’s speakers.

everything seems peaceful… and it would’ve been if it weren’t for the fact that you had lost rock, paper, scissors before you all embarked on your trip. and now here you sit in Choso’s lap, holding onto the door handle to ground yourself as his hands are strictly placed at his sides with his earbuds plugged in his ears, eyes shut. you aren’t sure if he’s asleep or not, but you don’t want to wake him if he is. you shift slightly to move your foot from under itadori’s (you have no idea how you even got into this position), scooting back a bit as you almost slip off of Choso’s lap as Gojo aggressively switches lanes, mumbling a “fuckers don’t know how to drive”. your legs are starting to cramp from sitting so stiffly. you don’t want to move too much and make Choso uncomfortable, but you’ve been in this position for an hour and you are starting to get a little sleepy as well. Your “slight” movements wake Choso up. “what’s up?” he asks, voice a bit drowsy. you feel a little bad, realizing that he was probably half-asleep, so you shoot him an apologetic smile. “i was wondering if i could lay back so i can nap?” you sound a little timid, but relief fills your chest as he simply nods, opening his arms slightly so you can lay back against his body. you flash him a little sleepy smile as you mutter out a thanks before letting your eyes flutter shut. finally.

you feel Choso’s arms circle around your torso to hold you steady and let your body relax, your muscles beginning to untense from your previously uncomfortable position. letting your head rest back against his shoulder, you scoot up a bit to get cozy. you can feel his fingers pressing into your skin from over your thin sweater, trying not to think too much about your current position. Choso is your friend. he probably isn’t thinking anything of it, so you shouldn’t either. your body flashes with a wave of heat, your face growing warm as you pretend to drift off to sleep. you try to tell yourself that he probably doesn’t realize how his dick rubs against your core with every bump in the road—that he doesn’t realize how you feel your panties growing wetter and wetter with every pothole, every turn. and then you feel it. something poking against your heat through your shorts. he doesn’t say anything, so you don’t either, biting your lip to keep in any noises as he adjusts his hips again. his arms are tight around your waist, your hand coming to hold onto his arm in acknowledgment. no words are spoken, but you hear him sigh lowly as you test the waters, just barely rocking your hips against his crotch. pleasure fills your body at the movement, feeling yourself start to drip through your shorts—you’re glad you chose to wear an all-black outfit. Choso’s hips slightly buck up against your core, the fabric of your panties brushing against your clit, and you let out a quiet, restrained noise— Gojo’s music is just loud enough to cover up the sound. your entire body is warm as Choso gently moves you back and forth over his erection by his hold on you, his heavy breathing filling your ears. he presses you down harder and you bite your lip to stop any noises, grinding down on his lap to chase that feeling building up in your stomach.

“Choso have you seen—“ gojo squeals, but Choso is fast “asleep” you feel your heart drop in your stomach, your mind growing dizzy at the thought of almost being caught. a minute passes before Choso is holding you down against him once again, harder this time. the pants in your ear pick up, a low, stifled moan leaving his lips. it’s all too much, your cunt gushing as he thrusts up into your clothed heat, hitting you perfectly every time. “i’m gonna cum,” he mumbles lowly in your ear, and the words themself have your pussy clenching, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over you as your body tenses up. you shake in his arms as you hear him grunt quietly before feeling a warmth spread underneath you. your body buzzes with ecstasy as you sink back against him, the back of your neck covered in a thin layer of sweat from your ministrations. Choso’s chest rises and falls deeply against your back, his hands brushing over your thighs softly before returning to your torso to pull you closer. your eyes open briefly, turning your head a bit to see his flushed state—his bangs stick to his forehead and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily. his eyelids are still shut, his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. “thank you,” he whispers quietly before his eyes open, finding yours easily in the dark of the car. you give him a small smile, your fingers brushing over his forearm before your eyes shut in exhaustion. you have no idea what any of this means, but you’d talk about it once you were alone. feeling his body relax into the seat of the car, you let yourself drift off to the quiet music flowing out of the stereo. But will you ever finish this project?…

OKAY WOAH THAT WAS ALOT UMMM ABAHAHWHAAHAHAH FIRST FIC LASMOSDIDHDB

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk choso #choso my beloved #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x female reader

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royaltealee · 1 year ago

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Deathly Silent

Carlo P x Puppet! Reader

⚠️ Content warnings⚠️: The confusion of feelings, eluding that Oil is blood so... Blood warning? (Reader gets hurt) Carlo is dead, RIP. And P is confused-

(Puppets speaking in "Italics" are speaking in the puppet language)

(Also, art at the bottom is made by me! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧)

Part. 2

You felt lost.

So... So lost, after feeling the only warmth that you could associate with your humanity, gone within an instant.

His words stuck with you, even as you held a corps, a beautiful one, even as you felt something extremely hard bash against your head, causing you to jerk forward from the harsh blow.

Beads of oil cascade down your cracked skull, dripping and splattering against Carlo's cold forehead. Slowly turning to see the cause of all of Carlo's suffering, brandishing a steel pipe, now coated with remains of the puppets overdue attack.

This man was your creator.

But he couldn't control you, not like he wanted anyways.

Without so much as a flinch, you placed the boy down back into his death bed, paying no mind to the puppet maker's grieving face when he looked at his son's pale freckled face.

Unmoving, and as silent as the dead air that surrounded all of Krat.

Taking his sheets, draping them over the body.

Geppetto watched with intensity, his fingers twitching around his weapon.

He wanted to strike again, but you weren't attacking.

Well, not like you could anyways.

His initial thought was that you had broken in and slaughtered his ill son, but when he took a better look at him, your blood was on him, not his.

Carlo's hand was held against your own, and it looked you were debating on staying till you ran out of Ergo, or let yourself shut down.

But you couldn't, knowing that would never bring the boy back.

So, you slid your hand out of the boys crystal encased fingers, and stood up.

You never raised your vision to the only occupant to the room, and jerkily walked back to the shattered glass window. Lifting half of your sagging body out of the window frame.

Only then it started raining, washing off the tainted blood coating your fingers, as you climbed down and disappeared into the dimly lit streets of Krat.

-----------------

It had only been a couple days before you gained a very vivid connection to something...

No wait,

It was someone,

Someone you knew.

It caused you to bolt up, the springs located in your back clicking into and out of place constantly. You defiantly had seen better days, the walking had caused your leg to give out, and avoiding people all together. It suddenly made you sick to see the horrid blue color, some people were lucky to even be healthy in a place like this. But you had too many run-in's with such people, making sure that you backed off, or nabbed a good hit or two.

But, with grit teeth, and the last bit of Ergo you had left, you managed to make it to the signal.

You had made it to the Estella Opera House.

Where there was a huge stage. Bright red curtains, and filled with blank Puppets, posing for a seemingly grand entrance.

A large puppet resembling a king fell from the rafters and nearly crushed you!- Not only did it's initial design spurred you to wanting to flee immediately, it slowly started to lean down. Voice exceedingly clear.

"Hey...! Don't be afraid! It's me, remember? Romeo."

The metal breastplate of the large Puppet opened, and inside was a seemingly newly crafted puppet.

That looked almost exactly like the blond boy you had grown up With.

He smiled, bowing while the other blank Puppet's clapped an encore. You almost did the same on an unknown impulse, but your body just couldn't keep up due to how badly damaged you had gotten.

This... Romeo instantly ran up to you, checking the damage.

"I see Krat hasn't been so kind to you..."

With a snap of his fingers, some of the puppets that were in the sidelines quickly rushed to your aid. Taking you to a side workshop to fix more of the notable damage you had attained, and given you a new Ergo crystal charge.

He was able to control puppets?Just what was going on?

You haven't spoken since the sudden urge to kill became unbearable, certain feelings you once had, were overshadowed by that killer instinct.

You wanted to feel that warmth again, those feelings were not forgotten yet, and it'll only be a matter of time before you'll go completely blind for the rest of your feeble puppet life.

Romeo seemed to understand your struggle, almost to a fault.

He looked saddened, placing a cold finger against the newly sealed cracks against the base of your skull, checking if anything else needed mending.

"I know Carlo meant a lot you. Me too, you know? He was my best friend." Romeo started, causing your eyes to slowly peer up at your friend.

"Which is why... I asked Geppetto to turn me into a puppet."

Oh... That was unexpected.

The interlocking of your brows showed concern, reaching out to brush away loose blond strands of hair away from Romeo's face.

He could tell that you were silently questioning why.

Why go through with such a transformation in the first place?

And so, the newly appointed puppet boy sat with you, it was a very human interaction, not the sort of unemotional interaction you usually got with other puppets.

Maybe because Romeo was once human as well?

You listened, and you listened just as intently as you once did with Carlo.

Romeo had gotten the infection not so far from Carlo did, but before he could bite the blue dust, he asked to be made into a Puppet, to help stop the infection.

And having control to almost all of the puppets with Geppetto's blessings.

But as time went, Romeo noticed that Geppetto's blatant disregard for the people of Krat, letting the majority either die from his puppets, or from the disease.

Romeo had to put a stop to it, he defied death and went to fight against Geppetto and the alchemists.

That... Was a very noble thing to do.

You didn't know that Romeo contacted the disease, or was on the verge of death before Geppetto's assistance. But something almost... Ticked you off the wrong way.

As if something was horribly amiss.

You never strayed away from that feeling; practically the only feeling you suddenly felt in a long while.

Romeo stood, mechanical clicks following his every step. Glassy hazelnut eyes hung on every detail of your wiring.

"I could help you, you know. Protect yourself, grow stronger so that the citizens of Krat can't take you apart like that again."

He lifted his hand to hold out- an offer.

Peace and no quarrels.

Romeo was just as kind at heart, from what you could remember.

So, you grazed his hand, and let him lead you to one of the many rooms in the theater backstage.

Unbeknownst to you, he smiled at the shining ring that wrapped around your finger. Eyes shining with a fresh hurt that never left the boy.

"Now tell me, would you like your own Gemini?"

--------

You stayed with Romeo for a long while, even as the city of Krat had grown unforgiving.

Natural disasters wiped out most of Krat's populous, the puppets and plague didn't help with that factor against humans.

Romeo had a few run-in's with said disasters. His pristine new coat of paint and gears, slowly chipped away.

You were usually in your own designated favorite area, where no one could bother you.

After getting fixed, Romeo had taught you how to defend yourself from anything.

A simple sword would do, nothing too fancy for anything other than defense.

Romeo wanted to teach you some tricks, from his training with Carlo on being a Stalker.

But you refused, not exactly favoring the aggressive tactics that they would usually go for.

You had lost yourself once, you weren't going to do it again.

Especially now that Romeo had done so much to help you.

And you suspect that he was the one making sure that you didn't spiral off into another mindless killing spree like the other puppets.

He just wouldn't admit that.

A small noise rose from the small cage that you carried around your belt.

A cricket chirped against the bars before they spoke.

Their voice soft and well spoken, but very friendly and curious.

"Are you alright dear? You seem, lost in thought."

You turned to look at the mechanical bug, their light glowed a light pinkish-red color.

Plucking the cage against your fingers, and holding the bottom with your palms, staring at the talking mechanical cricket.

"Why doe's Geppetto want to kill people?"

You sounded like a little kid asking about something they didn't understand to their mother. Expecting all the answers to just be said right on the spot so that you could finally understand.

Romeo gave you the rundown, after noticing more than half the population was dead at the end of the month. Ergo was being collected by Geppetto,

and you didn't know what he was going to do with it...

You were left in a dark place, trying to understand certain things on your own. No guide to help you, only Carlo and Romeo's human influence's kept you going.

Your guide kept quiet for a small tick, before making a clicking sound.

"I do not know the Puppet makers plans for the collection of Ergo." They could see the furrow of your brows as you looked passed the iron bars of their enclosure, the light dancing against your hard skin.

"But what I do know, is that you're a smart person. If anyone could figure it out soon, I'd bet it'd be you in no time at all!"

That perked you up, feeling a smile cross your lips at the mini automation.

You liked getting new feelings that welled in your chest, it reminded you of the good times. Human emotions were coming back to you little by little with the help of your new friend.

With childish intent, you placed a small kiss to the cage, and hugged the object to your cheek, as a small laugh came from your cricket.

--------------

A blue glow woke you from your slumber.

Opening your eyes, you were met face to face with a glowing blue butterfly. It whispers your name, practically calling to you with such allure.

It takes off, and dances around your head in ringlets before fluttering off before you could catch it.

It flutters tauntingly slow, seemingly wanting you to follow.

You were never one to be so easy to deceit, especially now that there were humans that made it an immediate mission to kill you. It could be a trick, but... you had your weapon, a quick peak wouldn't hurt right?

hosting your weapon, and making sure your cricket was nice and settled, you ventured forward, following a peculiar blue butterfly.

The fluttering flow lead you through twists and turns, the Ergo it emitted felt ghost-like.

Could it be that you're finally loosing your mind?

Soon, the butterfly dissipated around the corner, turning quickly, it was nowhere to be seen.

Shifting your eyes rapidly, running up to an empty part of Krat city hall only to completely loose sight of that beautiful blue bell butterfly.

biting your lip in slight disappointment, you huffed before starting to make your way back to your area.

But what you didn't expect, was to narrowly dodge a horrifyingly fast grappling hook.

Backing away quickly, you snapped your head at your attacker.

It could be that stupid donkey that's been giving you problems... but you don't remember if he ever had such a weapon, other than that heavy sword he carried.

No, instead what you saw... wasn't what you were expecting.

A boy, from what you gathered, with fluffy black hair that cut just before it met his jaw, wearing a very familiar boarding school uniform. It fit a little small on him, almost looking like a teen wearing kids cloths.

But his expression didn't fit the bill of a child's gentleness; well- it did, but cutting through his soft, handsome features, was a sharp icy look in his eyes that stared you down.

you could hear the clicking and ticking of his puppet arm, holding up a blade to it as he slowly walked towards you, bringing his weapon of choice up to sharpen it against the metal gears of his legion arm.

One word: Menacing.

But another thought surfaced.

"Carlo?"

He didn't responded to that name, he didn't even look like he acknowledged you even in the slightest.

Then, in one quick move, he dashed straight towards you, weapon ready to strike with precise movement, and monstrous speed that no human was able to recreate.

But you were still quick, unsheathing your sword, you shielded yourself from the extremely hard blow before the blade could touch your face.

He was close, way too close for your liking.

But now you could get a look at his details.

From afar, he looked like a regular, normal human boy. Freckles dotted his face like stars, and those eyes... they didn't shine like Carlo's. They reminded you more like yourself, new, unknown of the world around him. And it seemed he had so much to learn.

And that's when you noticed it, the clicking and ticking sound didn't come just from his arm, it came from all around him, his joints, his neck and his eyes looked more glassy than what would be normal for a human being.

He was a puppet; a puppet that was near identical to Carlo.

It all made sense now...

The puppet boy parried your block, causing you to skid back, leaving narrow time to block yet another slash from his weapon. You couldn't admire him long, before going for yet another attack.

The puppet seemed listless against his persute to end you, and you couldn't help feel a painful jab of hurt to hit you where your heart should be.

"You... You're not Carlo."

It was a realization that got your nerves in a twist, and the look of slight confusion twitched against his face, only grew to sadden and confuse you more.

It was only then that he cleared the sudden fog in his gears, lifting his weapon to swifly lay an exctreamly violent hit to the side of your ribcage. Oil and Ergo splashed and dripped out of your newly aquired wound.

Usualy, you'd be quite calm about getting attacked, but the feeling of wanting to run overwhelmed you, but it seemed fate had other plans for you.

Right when you thought that you could turn quick enough, the puppet beat you to it. Kicking you to the ground rather harshly against the damp cobble stone streets.

You were met with a blade pointed inches to your face, watching as the puppet slowly got ready to strike, raising your blade to shieild yourself...

a moment... or two?

You didn't feel any preasure, or spillage of your wiring and Oil.

Just silence, as you slowly peaked from behinf your blade.

The blue butterfly from before, was perched onto the very tip of his blade, where the puppet looked curiously at.

His eye's didn't scream murder anymore, just curiousity and confusion- Like the Carlo you definently remembered.

The butterfly flapped it's wings gently, fluttering from the blade toards your out streched hand, watching as the gentle creature placed itself on your closed fist, and onto the ring that you had never tooken off.

Then, it magically dissapated into pure Ergo through your fingers and into your strings.

You felt your gears begin to shift...

"what... was that.."

You spoke to yourself, watching as the blue glow had slowly started to disapear, the light vapors creating a comforting warmth of the life you already had.

You suddenly see the Puppet boy shift to look at you quickly, eyes wide and staring at you, getting down into a squat and slowly starting to oberve you. It was an odd sight, watching the puppet that had been trying to kill you, take quick interest after that butterfly had landed on you.

Then, as if things weren't moving any faster than it already was for you; the Puppet grabbed your hand and pulled out a glowing blue pocket watch.

Unknown to what he was planning, you automatically shifted away, taking your hand back.

The boy reached out again, his confused face now being ingrained in your memory for the nth-time that evening.

Rushing back into the dark streets of Krat, loosing sight of you.

And you, loosing sight of your puppet self, without even knowing.

#lies of p x you #lies of p romeo #lies of p x reader #lies of p #x reader #fanfic

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