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houdinicorbini · 3 years ago

Note

*slides you some Monopoly money * so uhhhh... How bout some more Guzma eh? Maybe something with a reader who considers themself a little bland and "boring" and this is surprised when he genuinly shows interest in them?

I actually need the money right now so I'll just *takes*

Also, I have not finished the game so I'm just using knowledge from what I've read and spoilers I've seen Tw: insecurities

"Fun" and "exciting" was not something you'd really refer to yourself as. You only saw another human being living an average and boring life. That's what you would tell yourself anyways.

You didn't see anything interesting about yourself, even though others could clearly see it. Maybe you just had a harder time seeing what was there.

But there was someone who you love to hang out with that can always provide you with endless adventure!

That would be the former boss of team skull himself. Guzma never failed to make you laugh or smile. He especially never failed to provide when it came to causing some last-minute chaos.

It was always a fun day when you were able to hang out with him, or when he decides to randomly show up at your house at three in the morning. (It's happened before)

Whenever you can't hang out with him, you just wait for the boring day to pass on by. At this point Guzma is what brought in all of the excitement.

Though, that's not actually the reason why you want to be around him. You've actually begun to fall for the bug man.

At first you thought that maybe you only wanted to spend more time with him because he turned your once black and white world into one of color and wonder.

But the feelings came along not that long after so you just assumed it was a package deal that you could not return.

Now these stupid feelings have caused a sort of, predicament some might say. While you did want to tell him, you didn't know if he'd want to be in a relationship with someone as "boring" as you.

You also didn't want to ruin this amazing friendship with someone you cared a lot about. You were scared that if he was told, he'd break it off. Or things would just never be the same after you confessed.

Another part of you thought it would be best to go ahead and rip off the band aid instead of being in this constant loop of whether or not you should tell him already.

It was times like these where you wished you were someone "cool"or "adventurous". Maybe this would be much easier to deal with if you were different.

That was something you were thinking about on your way to a special place only you and Guzma knew about.

Maybe there were other people that did know about it, but you've never seen another person there, so you just assume that no one does. But hey, a secret spot you can go to when you need alone time, so it's a plus!

It's a place you two now go together, but since the man is currently giving you a lot of complicated feelings, you'd like to have the time to yourself so you can sit and think about what to do.

It was a big cliff that overlooked one of the many beaches the island had! It was somewhere you knew about first, since you had been frequenting the place for years now. It's practically yours.

You would go there to clear your head when stressed or when you needed ideas for a project you were working on. You were actually really good at coming up with these random projects out of thin air.

Using only that imagination and dedication you had. You were a bit a freelancer, so you always had a lot of people coming up to you for commissions.

Once you and Guzma had been friends for a while, you decided to share that secret cliff with him. You still remember the awe on his face when you first brought him there.

It was a rather a cute moment that you'll always treasure.

But moving onto the present.

It was a rather peaceful day out, just a few random clouds here and there while there was a nice breeze blowing through your hair. You even see some cutieflies out and about on the trail you created that leads to the cliff.

It was maybe 5-5:30 right now? Still plenty of time for sun, but you were thinking about staying out until the sun set. And since it takes a little bit to get there, it had already become 6 by the time you arrived.

But it was still the perfect time and atmosphere to just sit and think.

At least that is what you would have been doing, if you didn't see Guzma sitting by the cliff, legs over the edge as he watched the crashing waves.

Golisopod was there too and out of their poké ball, clearly enjoying the evening sun they were getting. If you had not already come there with the plan to be away from Guzma so you could think, you would've stayed longer given how cute Golisopod was being right now.

You were internally panicking, debating whether or not to turn back and act like you were never there,, but Guzma just had to turn around at the wrong time.

"(Y/n)!" He shouted while wearing that dumb stupid smile that you started to fall in love with. And because of that shout, his Pokémon perked up.

All of his bug pals adore you, so of course Golisopod ran over to you right away, making it clear on how happy they were to see on of their favorite people that's not Guzma.

It's obvious that he will always be their ultimate favorite. It just makes sense.

"Guzma!" You quickly put on a smile. "What a surprise to see you and Golisopod here!" The bug Pokémon seemed happy when you recognized it's presnece, though it was hard not to when it was towering over you.

"I could say the same to you, any reason why you've decided to grace this place with your presence." He asked in a very smooth way.

Ignoring the fact that you might be blushing now, you decided to reverse the question. "What are you doing here?" You weren't really keen on giving up the real reason as to why you were here.

"Not to sound like a child, but I asked first." He retorted whilst wearing a smug look upon his handsome features. Sometimes you just wanted to hit him, but in a loving friend way, even though you wanted to be more than that.

"This is my go-to place when I need to brainstorm ideas for a new commission, but if you two would rather be alone then I can leave!" You then turned around to make a great escape.

That was until the giant water tank of a bug stopped you.

"Are you kidding?" Guzma spoke, "We were actually about to head to your place soon anyways, this just means we get to see you sooner." He points out while nodding to no one in particular.

"You were going to see me? Why?" You ask him suspiciously, curious as to why he was going to randomly show up. You assumed it was going to be unannounced as well, like it has been many times in the past.

"Is it suddenly a crime to see you?"

"Maybe, unless you planned for it to be one of your usual 'show up without a warning' visits."

"That is a possibility, though you might not get to find out if you keep interrogating me." He "threatened" you in a playful tone.

"Well then I guess the left-over desert from last night, that just so happens to be your favorite kind will just be-"

"Now now!" He quickly interjected, "We don't need to be so hasty, so let's calm down!"

The two of you held eye contact for a few seconds before you both started laughing. Moments like this happened quite often, you just hoped it would stay the same if you did tell him about these feelings.

Guzma patted the spot next to him, signaling you to come over. "Do you already have any ideas, or did you come here to see if any would spark?"

That question caught you off guard for a split second, seeing as how you had already forgotten that partial lie you told.

"I just couldn't think of what to do at home, so I thought here would help me more!" Even though you were debating leaving before, you still quickly made your way over to him and sat, letting your legs hang off the cliff like your black- and white-haired friend.

Golisopod sat down on your right, trapping you in between the two.

You all sat in silence, watching the waves hit the beach. It was rather peaceful, no one talking, allowing the sounds of the ocean to be heard in the distance.

This peace went on for another ten or fifteen minutes before Guzma broke the silence.

"Is there a real reason as to why you're out here?" He asked out of the blue, clearly confusing you, and slightly worrying you at the same time.

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning to face him all the while he kept looking ahead.

"You don't seem like yourself today, and I remember you telling me a few days ago that you had planned on taking a break from your work since you were swimming in stress each time I saw you."

That's when you began to internally panic. You had forgotten you told Guzma about the break. It's true that you took one because of all of the stress you were picking up from so many jobs at once.

So you planned on taking some time off once everything was done. The last order was actually finished two days ago. How could you have forgotten you told him.

He was one of the reasons why you took this break, he convinced you to do it since you were so close to breaking down from taking on too many requests.

You kind of have him to thank since he showed how worried he was for both your physical and mental and health.

Which made coming up with an answer that didn't force you to confess your feelings was rather difficult at the moment, but you didn't want to lie anymore either.

"I came here to think up a solution to something that I've been dealing with for some time now."

"Is everything alright? If someone is giving you a hard time, then I'll-" You saw how quick Guzma was to fight someone for you, which was actually endearing but then he'd have to fight himself since that's who you're talking about here.

There was a sound coming from Golisopod that meant he was with Guzma on the whole "We will hurt anyone who messes with you".

"I'm fine! No one is bothering me!" You had to quickly interject before they both tried to find this person they thought was messing with you.

You had to fight a smile when you saw how he was acting. Oh, how it made your heart melt, which really only made this so much harder on you. It also made you happy seeing Golisopod jump in right away as well.

"It is about someone, but not in the way you're assuming!" You rushed to say that last part before he jumped to conclusions again.

"Oh? What do you mean?" He seemed very keen on listening to the problem you were having. You weren't aware of how far Guzma would go just to make sure you were happy.

You looked down at your lap as you fiddled with your fingers. You couldn't face him at the moment, so the conversation continued while you stared at your lap.

"There's this person that I have caught feelings for, I just don't know how to tell them. But I don't even think it matters since I doubt they'll want to be with a boring and uninteresting person like me-"

The sudden hand on your shoulder forced you to look back over at Guzma. He was looking at you with a serious expression, one you don't see him wear too often because of personality.

"I never want to hear you say that again!"

"Wha-"

"No! If you're going to view yourself as "boring" and "uninteresting" then I'm going to make sure we change that right now."

You for sure did NOT expect this reaction from him. You thought what you said was accurate and normal, not something to cause him to act like this.

"You are one of the most interesting and delightful people that I know. I'd kick anyone's ass for not agreeing. I don't even think I need to talk about how talented you are. You have the whole island trying to buy from you that you had to take a break! Now tell me how THAT is boring?"

You tried to cut in, but he held up his finger to signal you to keep quiet until he finished his rant on how fantastic of a person you are.

"If someone can't see how amazing and great you are," Guzma seemed to be wearing a smile, but it wasn't a happy one. Could it be one of sadness? And if so,,,

Why?

You don't get why he's saying all these nice things to you, does he truly feel this way? Or is it his way of making sure you feel better and it's all a lie.

That seems more likely, that's what you thought at least.

"Then I don't think they deserve you, because you deserve someone who know what you're worth, not an idiot who wants to bring you down because they aren't as great as you."

You were nearly in tears from his words. You've never really had someone tell you things like this, not like Guzma. And it meant so much to you to hear that from him.

"Do you really think that?" Your voice ended up betraying you by cracking in the middle of that sentence, not that you cared at this very moment.

"Of course, it's clear as day. You'd have to be completely blind to not see something as obvious that." He let out a soft laugh, but his eyes didn't exactly match it.

"Now," he took his hand away from your shoulder. "Who's the lucky guy or gal to have caught the eyes of you."

After all that, you might as well tell him who it is. Maybe it won't be as bad given everything he just said. And if he doesn't feel the same, you just hope he lets you down easy.

And while you were very nervous about doing this, you decided to go ahead and spit it out.

"It's you." You paused for a second because you were trying to see what kind of emotion was in his eyes, it just looked like he was,, short circuiting?

"It's been you for a long time. I think you already know one of my reasons for not saying anything, but I was worried that I'd ruin this wonderful friendship that we've had for so long, and I didn't want to lose that, or you."

The silence he was giving was making you quite nervous, you just opened up to him and now he's not saying anything. This isn't how you thought it would go but it's not any better.

"You know what, just forget everything I said, I'll leave you be." You tried to get up, but there was a hand that immediately made you stay down.

"Am I really the one?" Now Guzma was the one who seemed confused, and that forced you to also become confused because who wouldn't fall in love with him?

"Of course! Why in Arceus' name wouldn't I-" You were suddenly enveloped in a giant hug.

"And here I thought ya boi almost missed his chance." You both chuckled as the hug grew tighter. It seems the two of you have been wanting this for a long time.

He was ready to watch you leave, as long as it meant you were happy. Even if it meant it had to be someone else. Now that meant a lot to you.

All of a sudden you were being sandwiched in the hug when Golisopod got excited and wanted to join in. Yeah, you were being crushed, but you liked seeing both of them happy, so you said nothing.

"Why don't we stay here for a little longer and then head back into town for some dinner? And then maybe head back to my house so I can give you the left-over desert." You suggested, though it sounded slightly muffled since you were being crushed from both the front and back.

Guzma laughed, he couldn't help but find the view both humorous and adorable.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

So the three of you stayed there for a while, you stayed until it had eventually reached sunset before you deemed it was time for everyone to get something to eat.

And now that you and Guzma know that you like each other, you two plan to go on a nice date very soon.

He also very well plans on helping you see yourself the way he sees you. And if he has to constantly wake you up at three every morning to tell you that.

He will, because he cares.

#guzma x reader #x reader #guzma #team skull guzma #pokemon guzma #pokemon sun and moon #sun and moon #team skull

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Text

bad behavior | jjk | m

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

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

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

— words; 8.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned. “Is that your answer?”

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

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

“Because I like giving back to the community.”

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

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

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

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

He smiled. “Not the point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around for me,” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, of course, promptly accepted it.

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

“How much?” You asked.

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

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

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

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”

“And, by the way?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

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

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

Text

Too Much in the Son

I was the perfect son-the scholar, the athlete, the All-American boy. In me, my parents found their ticket to being accepted. When they had a brilliant scientist for a son, it mattered less that they were immigrants, that they were brown, that they spoke with the heavy Guatemalan accent that they could never quite shake. They put me on a pedestal, and shoved my brother, Marco, into the shadows. And I quickly wearied of being the golden child; wearied of watching them turn on my younger brother when he dared to be average. Because we couldn't be average. Any failure wasn't a sign of immaturity or personal foibles, it was a reflection on our entire people and on the culture from whence we came. Mark wasn't the at the head of his class or the captain of the football and baseball teams like I was. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't successful, so he had to be pushed to the sidelines. If they wasn't, what would the neighbors say? They would say that it was only what they expected. Mark wasn't special, and he was brown; if he had been their only son, he would have been used as proof of why the country was letting in too many "foreigners". Never mind that my parents spent thousands of dollars and worked through endless bureaucratic red tape just to get to the country, then worked hard to pay for and pass their citizenship tests. Never mind that my parents knew more about American history than all their neighbors. We were Hispanic immigrants; we couldn't be "real" Americans unless we did something great.

Because of this, Mark was berated; treated like an embarrassment. My parents hardly noticed him except to criticize him for not being perfect; for not being me. In the end, they drove him away; he dropped out of school and ran away from home. And part of me wished that I'd had the courage to do what he had done. My parents had attached all of their hopes and dreams onto me, and the weight was exhausting. But because I was afraid of disappointing them, I stayed. I graduated high school as the valedictorian and made it through college in only two years. I had a degree in meteorology, and I was expected to change the world.

While I was in college, I had dreamed up the idea of a device that could control the weather in a localized area. Most people dismissed me as a dreamer at first, but within only a few months of college, the academic community was hailing me as a genius; and so by the time I graduated, I was easily able to get funding for my project. I worked alone in a small cabin off of Big Water Lake for the next three years, utterly consumed by my work. I seemed to be on top of the world; my brother, meanwhile, was floundering. As a runaway and high school dropout, he was unable to find much work; worse, he soon picked up a gambling habit and lost most of the money he had taken with him when he had disappeared. As a result, he soon fell into a bad crowd and fell into a life of drinking and petty crime. I was extremely frustrated by this, because I knew that my brother had the potential to be so much more than that, but there was little that I could do to stop him. Little did I know that his poor choices would become my salvation.

Just as my project, which I had nicknamed the Weather Wand in a moment of fancy, was nearing completion, my primary sponsor, LexCorp, informed me that they planned to use the Wand as a weapon for war. I, who had intended it for humanitarian aid, was furious, and I told them that I would not allow them anywhere near my invention. The corporation responded by cutting all of my funding and getting me blacklisted; worse, they used my status as an immigrant to do so (conveniently ignoring the fact that I had come to America at two years old). Worse still, since they had funded all of my earlier work on the Weather Wand, they planned to claim it for themselves. Determined to do something to stop this, I contacted my younger brother, Mark, and together we concocted a plan. He was to show up at my laboratory and claim that he was running from the police, a story that would hold some weight since he had twice been arrested and sent to jail for burglary. We would fake a fight, and then I would give him the Weather Wand and disappear; leaving the assumption that I had died in the scuffle.

The plan went off without a hitch. With the Wand now safely in the hands of a supposedly dangerous criminal, LexCorp would be unable to steal it and use it as a weapon, and since I was "dead", they wouldn't be looking for me in the hopes of forcing me to make another one. What's more, since everyone thought I was dead, I could finally escape the pressure of being the perfect son, and my brother, by taking on the moniker of the Weather Wizard, was able to finally get the attention that he craved.

I just wish that he hadn't decided to wear a green leotard to do it.

#flash rogues #weather wizard #clyde mardon #fanfic #AU

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kaetastic · 4 years ago

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Secrets Not To Be Told

pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Pureblood!Slytherin!Reader

summary: Draco invites his circle of friends to his manor for an allegedly said-project. This brings a friend of the boy into his father’s attention. [requested: @queenofmankind]

word count: 3k

warning: fluff, cheating, smut, fingering :)

note: the only reason i made the reader a slytherin and pureblood is because i needed her to be in the draco circle if you know what i mean. i hope this is alright! thank you so much for this request!! i truly love lucius <33 i think after posting one more request i’ll be closing it for awhile to spend more time on my posts :3

The scurrying of petite feet grazed across the stone floor, squeaking a screech every time the bare skin of the creature slapped the ground. Although the manor had been exceptionally cold the past week, the temperature had wrapped a blanket of icicles around the walls of the once a cosy home. If that ever existed with the infamous beliefs of the previous and current owners.

The floppy ears of the elf danced with every stomp of feet he took, bouncing into the air just like that of the choreography of his heart. Arms swinging by his body, he could hear his heart thrum against his eardrums. Almost as if someone had plunged their fingers through his chest to pluck out the pumping organ. There was nothing else pinned on the board in his mind, just the change of events. Need to tell Master.

The words echoed in his head, a reminder for him to get to the desired room as soon as possible. Even though the creature had been serving the Malfoys for longer than he could count on his hands, he couldn’t help but realize the different personalities of each owner. However, the ground remained stable with the current master. Slightly more merciful than the previous ones. The elf couldn’t help but shudder at the memories of being bruised to punishment. With the tainted thoughts of those who he had served, he passed a second to slam his head in the frigid wall. Bad Nory. Bad, bad Nory.

The elf barely had time for his lungs to increase to its maximum capacity and his head to digest what he was to do, his boney knuckles rapped against the wooden door. As the noise echoed into his ears in surges of wailing, no different to that of his spilt tears the night before, the creature finally understood what he had done. There wasn’t any time for him to waste by sprinting away to leave the master to be answered by silence.

Master Malfoy had ordered a clear instruction; this issue was to be solved with the towering wizard of the home. Running away was an option, but the elf couldn’t see himself walking away from the scene without punishing himself. No sound seemed to seep out of the cracks of the sealed door. With a gulp, the elf took this as a reply. So, with his blood vessels quivering set an energetic speed, he opened the door with a creak. The noise that indicated the ancient hinges lingered in the air, longer than he wanted it to be. Almost as if it was to taunt him of his grievous mistake. Was it a mistake if he was to inform a sudden issue to his master?

“What is it?” The man who occupied the lavish green armchair practically hissed, his words swerving out the cracks of his teeth in a body of a slithering serpent. Even when he had found comfort in the tranquillity of the air, nothing fell into place to his desire.

Lucius was a lucky man, some would say. The pureblood wizard had inherited money which seemed to be an endless body of water, the main reason why he had found no need to occupy a job. However, the demands he had asked, such simple ones, was of no use. His son had dragged his friends to the manor, individuals Lucius had approved of as their status.

The pureblood wizard wished for the school his son had been educated at, to find the true meaning of blood. Blood purity. There would be no use of those with half-poured blood of muggles while the other half were to be species who held great power in their hands. Not to mention the wavering group of barely a tint of magical blood in them. Draco would have his fun while his wife had occupied herself in Paris. The beginning of Christmas looked fun as Lucius was left alone.

There was no need to wait for the creature to bring up its excuse to its... excessive, boisterous noise of walking. No matter the times the wizard had scolded the elf for creating such irritating sound, the habit was ingrained in the creature.

“Master, Nory is sorry,” The elf stuttered, its eyes blaring onto the polished ground before it brushed over the overlapping strings of the carpet. “There’s a woman at the door, she said she’s Master Draco’s accompany.”

Lucius’s eyes snapped to the quivering elf, his peripheral narrowing onto its raggy clothing. Placing down the crinkling newspaper, he clicked his jaw, “I only assume that you have brought her inside because we treat guests at our utmost respect,” The elf watched as honey dripped from the wizard’s lips. Not sweet honey, never sweet honey. Venom embedded honey. The viscous liquid was ready to pierce blades. “Bring her in.”

Nodding (almost beheading his own head at the incredible speed), the creature’s feet echoed into the tranquil air, “Come in, come in.” Lucius listened to its muffled hearing before the noise of shuffling of feet amplified into the dining room.

Towering over the elf was a figure, the cloak heavily rested on her shoulders, “I’m sorry if I caused any problems. I’m Y/N, Draco had invited me.”

Lucius quirked his eyebrows at her accent, “Draco came in with his friends.”

“Oh, yes,” Y/N let out a faint laugh. “There were some problems that needed fixing, so I was late.”

Lucius noted before standing, his stride towards the door halted to stand next to the witch, “Well then, I’ll show you to Draco.” The creature was long gone, knowing its presence was not needed by the two.

Silence sang in the air, only their steps mumbled into the long hallway. Long for Y/N; a short path for the man who had grown in the manor. The same hallway his father and previous generations had sauntered through, “You’re not British, are you?”

Y/N couldn’t help the quirk of her smile, “No, I’m not. I’m a transfer from Ilvermony.”

“Your blood?”

“Pure.” That was all Lucius needed.

Lucius munched on the gentle texture of the egg, its creamy yolk caressed the muscle of his tongue with every so softness. Just the way he liked it. The bright yellow paint smeared against his porcelain teeth, cladding around to cover the source of sparkling glitter whenever the wizard was to shoot a smile. Not a smile of joyfulness because lately, life had been lacking in supplying said-happiness. Everything seemed to rather get on his nerves; no one seemed to comply with the pureblood wizard. Something that had infuriated him. Almost as if they had mocked him.

With the freshest Daily Prophet hovering on the table, blocking his view of the wide-opened door, he was too caught up on grazing his eyes over the lines of the commotion of giants. Just kill the lot if you ask me. The wizard couldn’t help but curl up the corners of his lips from his thought. While he showered himself in the enticing idea of him ruling over the wizarding world (too brutal of gushing blood to clean out the bad blood), Y/N made way into the dining room.

Too lost in the golden imagination, she took the time to take in the room. It was like no other. The rest of the house, those she had only stumbled into, of course, had been rather gloomy and full of lurking shadows compared to this one. While she had enjoyed her time in the Malfoy Manor, most of the moments of exploring the vast home with the owner’s son, she couldn’t help but be in doubt to why the room had been more... brighter.

“My wife wanted more light,” Lucius answered the question she had quirked up in her head as if he had read her mind. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, had she said it out loud? With a flick of his wand, the swooshing noise of the newspaper slicing through the air to land its back on the grand wooden table crackled. “She said she could barely see what she was eating, hence this.” Following his gesturing hands towards the window wall that had been adorned by curtains that had been hugged at their waists to prevent it from closing, Y/N hummed. The morning light glistened through the glass panes, streaking lines of golden paints against the sombre-coloured table.

The dining table was long, separating the dining room into two halves equally. Despite the enormous room, it didn’t feel spacey at all. There were clusters of iron armour statues decorating the walls, alongside moving paintings of landscapes and what Y/N would assume were family. Pushing the table aside, the twinkling chandelier was a sight to behold. Its arms, no different to that of an octopus. Teardrops of creatures that resided in the body of water draped from each rod, singing a faint song with every quiver despite the room being impeccably still.

“So, may I ask what you’re doing in my home?” Before she had the chance to think of what she was to do, a faint chuckle fell off her lips.

“Oh, right. It seems I had forgotten an item of mine.”

Lucius quirked his eyebrow, “Well, wouldn’t it have been easier for you to just send an owl?”

Y/N scratched the nape of her neck, “I have, it seems Draco had not received it.”

The wizard nodded before the clanking of metal slamming against ceramic echoed into the dining room, “Come, where was the last place you’ve left it?” Y/N was sure, with him being a pureblood- it would’ve been easier to accio the lost item. She didn’t question.

“Are they your family?” Y/N quirked up, slicing a blade through the thick air. Now that she had noticed, the hallway had not been occupied at all. Just the head of the family and her. Well, she wasn’t sure where Draco would be as Lucius had informed her that he was to do additional training.

“Yes, they are.” Lucius answered, the words lingering longer in the air as his eyes grazed over the paintings. The green wall had been plastered with squares of paintings and moving pictures. It would surely be just a cluster of dots if viewed from afar. The heads of similar blond hairs had tint features of what had been passed on onto Lucius. No doubt, it was his parents as the young Lucius sat on the chair with their hands planted on his shoulders. Oh, to be young again.

Turning her head to face the man, she inquired, “What were they like?”

Lucius pondered, a second of silence poured into the air, “Loyal.” Despite his short description of his family, Y/N knew it was more to it. There was never just one adjective for pureblood parents. However, she didn’t even bother pressing onto the manner. She gazed upon his eyes grey eyes.

The still air she once had cut into two loaves of bread had tightened around her chest as her lips rested on his. Her fingers hovered over his chest, awkwardly quivering at the peculiar position. Lucius saw a coat of darkness while his body had been leaning on hers, his ears fed with the sound of their lips; his tongue had been given a treat of the taste of her. Y/N watched as the familiar absence of light entered her peripheral, holding a sheet between her sight and her.

Although it had felt as if she had been snoozing off to the lullabies sung by the devil, she was soon shaken to her core at the realization. Yanking back to snap the sudden noise of their lips ripping away from one another, she stared at the towering man, chest heaving, “We can’t...”

“Why not?” Lucius questioned, eyebrows shooting up as his eyes narrowed at her.

A minute passed, and she had no answer to his question. Maybe it had been the captivating man who had sucked out all of her ability to grasp on reality. Or air was just not enough to supply her head, “I’m Draco’s friend, and you are his father-“ She hated that she stuttered. However, it had all to be blamed on her intermittent flickers of thought to come up with a reason. A reason to push away the man. A reason to stop him.

“You are of age, aren’t you?” Y/N nodded, though, quite reluctantly as she feared for what he was to say.

“Still, isn’t this wrong?” The words squeezed out of her throat, almost as if she didn’t want to say it.

“Nobody has to know.” Although the first thought that had popped up in his mind was his wife who was possibly sauntering on the roads of Paris, it was soon wiped off from existence as the familiar warm puffs of air-filled every crevice of his mouth. The wizard’s hands crept up, fingers trailing from his side to gingerly grasp her waist.

Nothing was uttered in the air as the two lost themselves in a rhythm they soon fell into. With her hands plastered on his shoulders, she couldn’t hold back the shudder when her fingers grazed over the chilly ornament on his neck. The pureblood wizard pulled away, his eyes brushing over her confused orbs, “Not here, come.”

Breezes of wind kissed his skin, piercing an inch of skin as if a missed arrow that had somehow managed to caress his cheeks. Lucius didn’t know how fast he had paced towards his room. Maybe it had been a foolish thing to do, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the thrumming of his heart for what he was about to do.

A cane in his hand for preventing any consequences he was to face, no walls would stay up high with the persistence of the wizard. Lucius wasn’t sure if he had felt relief when he had not seen those scrambling creatures in the hallways or up the stairs. He could’ve just pulled up the punishment cards or obliviate the house-elf. It would’ve been amusing for him to watch, but there was a slight clench in his chest that had been more than glad at the absence of the elves. What would’ve Y/N thought?

Flinching only slightly at the abrupt, boisterous noise of the door slamming shut, Y/N could barely let out a gasp before her lips were sealed shut once again. With her back against the wall beside the door, there was no time for her to gaze upon the room the wizard had dragged her into. That was until Lucius had somehow urged himself to pull away. Mumbling in a raspy voice, Y/N felt wind crawling down her back, “Undress.”

So she did. There were sprinkles of chest heaving from the air-stealing exercises despite the two shredding off their clothing. Lucius couldn’t hold himself back. The way her tongue brushed against his; the way her fingers would gently grip onto his chest was as if she had handled glass. It was entertaining, to say the least- Lucius liked it. It was different. Different than his wife.

A sharp gasp fell off her lips as the mouth that was once smeared over with freezing paint which now had been warmed up as if it rested next to a fireplace landed on her neck. Lucius’s ears trickled with wanton sounds of her moaning, quivering down his body. She knew what it did to him, yet, her body was not placed in a position for her to decide.

Tightening her grip on the crumpled cover of the bed, a staggering moan caressed her lips. Lucius pumped his sole finger at a languid pace, the corners of his lips curling up at the way her hips buckled. While she had been melting her head into the soft pillows, the same ones his wife would slumber upon, his lips descended down to flick his tongue on her pebbly buds. Y/N wasn’t sure if it had been from the second finger he had added or the way his tongue had suckled on her breasts, or both, but she didn’t bother.

She arched into his body, fingers weaved through the long locks of his hair. Lucius grunted at the sudden clench of his fingers. Her legs thrashed, wavering in shudders when he drew quick circles on her clit. Then she felt as if she had been chunked down the mists of clouds. Y/N watched as his fingers that had been coated of her coat his tongue. If there was any slight drop left, it was to be mixed with the tint of his saliva.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking the hardened shaft while his eyes watched hers. Inch by inch, his pelvis had splayed against her skin. Youthful skin. And oh, if Lucius had let down his walls, he was sure he would’ve lost at the tightness around him. Breathless puffs were then dancing in his lips.

Lost in the way his tongue danced with hers, she let out an unexpected whimper as his hips pulled back. The emptiness of the inch was prominent. The feeling lingered in her. However, it was soon thrown out of the window when he had snapped his hips. The first of the many wanton noises were forgotten in a blurry haze as his thrusts started a series of moaning and groans, “Lucius...”

Her moan fell into his ears in a bouncing string, just like that of a fishing rod with bait at its hook. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his hips, another surge of pleasure crawling through her body. With his head bumping into her temple, it wasn’t long before they plunged into the sea of a familiar feeling.

Still breathless, he huffed out, his skin finally screeching of pain from his back, possibly the clawing of her nails, “Listen, my wife shouldn’t know-”

A knock on the door sliced through the still air, “Father, mother’s home.”

The faces of the two could have been seen as that of a permanent freeze.

#lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy imagine #lucius malfoy imagines #lucius malfoy oneshot #lucius malfoy oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter smut #smut #slytherin!reader #pureblood!reader #lucius malfoy x slytherin!pureblood!reader #slytherin!pureblood!reader

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camilliar · 4 years ago

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recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

- - - - - - - - - - -

7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft” is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

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leakyrocktarot · 3 years ago

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Hi Y'all

So I have some things I need to say that I have been dreading to address. I had to take a short break- and I did try to come back sooner but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I can't just "ignore" what's going on. And please note that I am using the colloquial "you" throughout this post, it isn't directed towards anyone in specific, however if you feel called out, reflect on yourself not me.

Firstly I need yall to stop asking me if I'm mixed. I don't have a problem with mixed people, however when most of you say it, it comes off as a backhanded compliment. It's as if you are saying I'm "too pretty to be fully black" and that I "need to be mixed with something to explain my beauty" and I don't like that. It feels as if you are saying to me that black people as a whole cannot be beautiful on their own without having features of another race added to them, that black people cannot be attractive unless they are mixed with another race, and only then can they be pleasing to look at. That shit is indescribably angering. I get that some people want to ask me that to know more about me but, don't ask me if I'm mixed, ask me where I'm from.

Secondly, I hate that I have to keep repeating myself, and I hate that people still disrespect my wishes, so if someone does what I'm about to mention again, I will embarrass you. DO NOT ASK ME ABOUT THE SEXUAL PAST, SEXUALITY, NOR SEXUAL QUALITY OF A CELEBRITY, ESPECIALLY KPOP IDOLS. I mean come to fuck on bro- this is absolutely none of your business- EVEN if you believe yourself to be their soulmate. This is their own private business and I'm not about to dive into that and you shouldn't even be asking me this shit in the first fucking place. How would you like it if someone were to read your sexual energy and plaster it on the internet for everyone else to see? Do you not see how disrespectful that is? Where is the common sense? I DO NOT CAAARRREEE If you think he is your soulmate, I don't care if you love him, I don't carrreeeee if you think yall are "destined to fuckin be" I don't care don't ask me that shit because I'm not answering it. Why do you even want to know that in the first place? The fuck I look like answering "How is Jungkook in bed" or "how many people did Chris Evans sleep with"??????? ñO. That is THEIR PRIVATE BUSINESS, I REFUSE to answer private and invasive questions because yall need to stay the fuck in a fans place. Just because you buy their albums, just because you buy their merch, interact with their accounts, and do shit that fans do, DOES NOT mean that you are entitled to their personal life. Stop the shit. It would make no fucking sense, like imagine a random person coming up to you in the street, throwing money at you, and asking you to tell them your entire history of being a person. Yes this section is a rant because yall don't know any fucking boundaries, stop it and stay in a fans place. Get mad if you want to, I just don't see how yall feel so entitled to private information and get mad when you don't get it, and can't respect boundaries.

Thirdly, if I say that I am answering questions, do not bombard my ask box with hella asks and hella questions, that is fogging up the energy and heavily messing with my third eye making it harder for me to give accurate answers. Type out all of your questions into one ask, not into 73 different asks please. I don't have a hard limit on how many questions you can ask, but for the love of all that is spiritual don't flood my ask box with things that could be in one message. I am trying to read several energies at the same time and it makes it harder on me to see them so dispersed. I feel like I'm looking at an endless giraffe/zebra hybrid whose colors blend into each other.

And lastly, I am currently working on something in my personal life. I will be gone for a few more days, I have no idea when I'll be back as I have no idea when this project will be finished. I have closed my ask box and submissions in the meantime because I have over 185 asks and that's already overwhelming to me. I will catch you guys on the flip side, # speaking from the heart, beeeeeeee fletchaaaaaaaaa.

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vicarfelix · 3 years ago

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The Truth About Fate

Vicar Max x Fem! Captain

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death, violence.

Word Count: 5,497

“How could anyone ever get over the fact that the person they loved most was taken from them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it?”

This had by far been the worst job the Captain had ever taken. The missions she had dealt with thus far had brought her to rabid canids, stuck-up and brainwashed rich people, and even murderous cannibals living outside the security of Stellar Bay. But this was a totally different kind of uncharted territory.

The Captain would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a little enthralled when a severed arm was delivered on to her ship. She didn’t know the man that she later learned to be Lucky Mantoya (since she wasn’t actually Alex Hawthorne), and the idea of taking the job from a dead freelancer was a bit thrilling. The Captain supposed that she owed Alex in a way, so taking this job was her paying her debt.

It wasn’t until she was too far into the journey on Gorgon that she wished that she had remained indebted to the late captain.

The Captain knew all about Adrena-Time. She saw the ads everywhere and how it was portrayed to be a performance enhancing drug created by Spacer’s Choice. She had never needed or wanted to take it, but it seemed that it was advertised everywhere she went.

It didn’t take long for The Captain and the crew to discover that Adrena-Time had created marauders, and Gorgon was the birthplace for them. Spacer’s Choice had poured endless money into The Gorgon Project, continuing to flood the market with cheap items and giving empty promises to the colony.

The deeper they dug into the mission, the more disturbing it became. The Captain was stuck between a rock and a hard place. It was too late to back out now, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about exposing herself and her crew to the rundown labs and abandoned “volunteer patients” left to die.

The labs were horrifying. The endless traces of failed experiments and suffering people were forever etched into her brain. The smell of all the dead bodies made her nauseous each time she remembered it. The cubes that were made from literal human parts. The worst part of it all was knowing that marauders were created.

It was very clear that the entire project was a cover up. She wanted Spacer’s Choice, The Board, and all the other snot nosed corporations to burn anyways, but now that feeling had tripled.

There were two positives to this mission. One was that (unlike other jobs she had taken) there didn’t seem to be any rush on completing this job. It wouldn’t change the outcome if she decided to move on to other things for a bit. The second upside was that the Captain had met some genuinely wonderful people on Gorgon.

The Sprat Shack had been their safe space during their time on Gorgon, while The Captain preferred that they all stay on the ship for sleeping, she spent the rest of her downtime and breaks at Lex’s bar. The Captain stayed fairly under the radar at first, keeping her head down and ordering her selected crew at the time to do the same. But she slowly began to realize that the people of the small bar meant well. According to Lex, most of them had been forgotten...and the bad ones had made it out of Gorgon instead.

The Captain had met some outstanding people, some of which she even developed friendships with. She wasn’t surprised that some of them needed jobs to be completed for a fee. The side jobs were actually somewhat refreshing, and it kept the Captain on track without leaving the void blasted rock.

But there was one side job that she wished had never been offered to her.

Leonora was a kind woman. She kept to herself and mostly drank the day away. The Captain couldn’t explain the feeling of hurt every time she looked at Leonora. The sense of loss and hopelessness. It all made sense when Leonora asked for a personal favor.

Leonora told the Captain about her lost husband and their Gorgon story. Leonora had no idea where Jerome was or what became of him. But she wanted the one thing that was left of him.

Truth be told, the Captain wasn’t sure that going out of her way to find a beat up flask was worth her time. But after talking with Leonora and hearing how “a broken heart” had brought her back to Gorgon, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. It was supposed to be an easy job. One that would lift everyone’s spirits.

But it ended up hurting the Captain even more.

It had been weighing on her a lot. There was something about the way Leonora’s eyes glassed with tears when she said Jerome’s name that made the Captain feel terribly upset. She could tell that Leonora loved Jerome endlessly, and it made the Captain question a lot about love. How could anyone want to fall in love if there was a possibility of ending up like Leonora?

The Captain worried about it, because it was totally possible that it could happen to her too.

Max meant everything to her. She loved him with everything that she was. She looked forward to waking up with him every morning and going to bed with him at the end of each night. She couldn’t even begin to imagine her life without him.

Max was her comfort in this fucked up colony. She had talked to Max about it, taking advantage of his confessional conversation training. He tried to help her get to the bottom of her feelings, which amounted to the fact that she needed to complete Leonora’s job first.

It turned out that tracking down Jerome’s flask wasn’t as difficult as she originally thought, once The Captain, Max, and Nyoka shot their way through a group of strung out marauders. The apartment was small, but she knew that Jerome had been there.

“I think that’s it, Cap.” Nyoka stated, motioning towards the metal flask sitting on the bed.

The Captain looked at the engraving on the flask, letting her know that it was the one she had been searching for.

“Yep. I think so too,” The Captain said, “I’m going to take a second to read his journal now that we’re not being shot at.”

Max and Nyoka offered light chuckles at the Captain’s joke, continuing to look around the room for anything they could pocket before they left. The Captain had found Jerome’s journal earlier, but hadn’t had a chance to read it since they had been under attack.

Now she wished she had never allowed herself to read what Jerome had written.

She smiled faintly when she read the sweet things that he had written about Leonora. But that feeling didn’t last long for the Captain. The fuzzy warmth was washed away with a cold gut drop when she read that he had taken Adrena-Time. Her heart ached as she read on to see his slow descent into marauder madness. It made her feel a sense of dread at knowing that she likely had just killed him within the group of marauders just a few moments before.

“Oh, God...” The Captain groaned, handing the journal to Max and Nyoka so they could skim over it too.

A wave of nausea filtered through the Captain’s senses, but not the kind usually brought on by rotting canids on Monarch. As much as the Captain wished that she had more control over her feelings, sometimes they still smacked her in the face.

Max and Nyoka went through the same emotions the Captain did as they read. They knew what the Captain was feeling, and they didn’t want her to blame herself for something that she couldn’t help.

“It’s not your fault, Cap. We had to kill them.” Nyoka said.

Max seconded Nyoka’s statement, approaching the Captain and resting a hand on her shoulder to soothe his distressed girlfriend.

“She’s right. There was nothing else that could be done.” Max’s voice rumbled low in the Captain’s ear.

The pad of his thumb stroked her shoulder through the hard material of her Rizzo’s SugarOps armor. It was something he always did when he knew she was uptight, but it didn’t always offer her consolation.

“What am I even going to say to Leonora? How am I supposed to tell her what happened to Jerome?” The Captain asked rhetorically, but she had hoped they’d give her an answer.

The Captain already had a feeling as to what they thought. Nyoka and Max were very honest people, believing that the truth was always best. The Captain mostly agreed, but she knew how damn bad the truth could hurt sometimes.

“Cap, I hate influencing decisions. Just...go with your gut.” Nyoka offered, which wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Whatever you find to be best, Captain.” Max echoed.

The Captain sighed, dejected that their advice didn’t help at all. The Captain tucked the flask into the pocket of Max’s jacket, assuring that it’d be safe with him until they made it back to The Sprat Shack. The trek back through the ruins to the saloon felt far too quick. Even if she had all the time in the world, the Captain was confident she’d never fully settle on how to handle this.

These were the moments that she hated about being a captain. The moments where all authority and responsibility fell to her, and when her crew couldn’t back her up. As horrible of a thought as it was, the Captain was tempted to not even return to Leonora. Leonora would never even know that the Captain had indeed carried out her task. But the Captain knew that was probably the worst thing she could do.

She fished the flask from Max’s pocket once they were out of harm’s way, her dirtied fingers trailed over the engraving once more. She hated everything about this entire Gorgon mission. Every side job that she took seemed to be making the main objective worse. Gorgon was by far the worst of the colony.

And it only further cemented the Captain’s hate for The Board.

They entered the building, the dread in the Captain’s abdomen growing more and more as the elevator descended them down to the lower levels. She looked at Nyoka and Max again, her usually confident and determined eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell her.” She admitted, her usual boldness being chipped away more and more the longer she thought about this.

Nyoka and Max both wished they could’ve been more helpful. Unfortunately, this was just one of those moments where their assistance wasn’t making the job easier.

Max adored the Captain. Their relationship had given his life a whole new purpose and meaning. He loved her endlessly, and seeing her this upset hurt him personally. If he could bear her burdens, then he would without a second thought.

But she was the Captain, not him.

“Maybe she won’t even ask, Cap.” Nyoka suggested the likely best case scenario.

“If nothing else, at least returning the flask will partly offer her closure.” Max tagged on.

That helped marginally, but it barely made a dent in the Captain’s feeling of impending sadness. The Captain led the way into the room where Leonora was sitting, rummaging through a bin of her belongings that amounted to practically nothing.

For a split second, life returned to Leonora’s eyes when she saw the Captain. However, the life left them again just as fast as it had come. It was as if Leonora had hoped that Jerome would’ve been with them. The Captain couldn’t even imagine Leonora’s pain.

“Hi, Leonora.” The Captain greeted in as neutral of a tone as possible.

Max and Nyoka stood back a ways, wanting to give Leonora plenty of space for whenever the Captain broke the news to her.

“Find anything out there?” Leonora asked in her serene voice.

The Captain nodded, revealing the metal object to her.

“I found Jerome’s flask.” The Captain stated simply, passing it to her with slightly trembling fingers.

A genuine, yet sad smile appeared on Leonora’s face as she looked over it. The Captain could see a whole parade of memories flood over Leonora. The Captain refused to cry, but it was taking a lot from her to stop the tears.

“That’s it, all right! Law...still smells like whiskey, his cigarettes, and that awful cologne he bathed in every morning.” Leonora said, but more as a testament to herself than the Captain.

The Captain refused Leonora’s payment when she offered the bits. The Captain was glad Ellie wasn’t there, because she would’ve surely bitched at the Captain for turning down payment. The Captain had this overwhelming sense to leave now while Leonora wasn’t asking questions. The Captain figured she could bid her farewell and good luck and dash out, but Leonora spoke again before the Captain could try.

“You didn’t happen to find anything else out there...did you?” Leonora questioned, very clearly wanting the answer she’d been waiting all these years for.

The Captain felt like she could’ve broken out into a sweat. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Her observant ears heard the uncomfortable shifting of Nyoka’s feet behind her, and she could practically see Max’s lowered head as a show of respect for Jerome.

The Captain’s hesitation was probably not a good sign to Leonora. The Captain knew that she couldn’t completely avoid answering Leonora. The Captain had two very clear paths in front of her. She could tell Leonora the truth and risk breaking Leonora’s heart further, or she could lie and offer Leonora some solid comfort...even if it wasn’t real.

The Captain didn’t want to do this. She wished that she had better options at this moment. But she had to choose what was dealt to her and what was best for Leonora in her eyes. So, the Captain made the best decision that she could.

So she lied.

“I found Jerome. It looks like he died peacefully.” The Captain told Leonora.

The energy from Max and Nyoka changed. They both were a bit stunned that the Captain fibbed. Just as before, a flash of a look of relief crossed Leonora’s features. She didn’t want Jerome dead, but thinking he died comfortably brought her great consolation.

“Good...good. I should’ve been there for him, but I suppose he wanted to be alone in the end,” Leonora said solemnly, “Thank you for the flask. Jerome and I were supposed to live and die together, but sometimes fate has other plans.”

The Captain didn’t hear Leonora’s goodbye due to the ringing of her last sentence.

Fate has other plans.

The Captain felt a million times worse now. She thought about all the plans she had with Max. All the things about their future that they had talked about. They were supposed to live and die together...but what if that didn’t turn out to be the case?

The Captain only gave Leonora a nod for a farewell, leaving her to wallow in a broken lie as an attempt at moving on. It was the end of the night, and the Captain just wanted to get the hell back on The Unreliable. They left The Sprat Shack, the Captain’s solitary question giving Nyoka an invitation to speak once they were en route to exit the establishment.

“Did I do the right thing?” The Captain asked for the first time ever, tears brimming her eyes.

Max didn’t say anything, knowing she’d talk to him more later. Nyoka sighed, clearly torn at what had just happened with Leonora.

“I don’t know, Cap. I hope she’ll find some peace in this, but...sometimes it’s better to know the truth and deal with it.” Nyoka said honestly.

“I just couldn’t tell her. She’s been holding on to a sliver of hope for years and if she knew that he had turned into a marauder...” The Captain stopped briefly, “It might’ve killed her.”

The Captain wasn’t known for theatrics or delivering dramatic lines after an intense moment (no, they left that up to Felix). But her words couldn’t have been more true.

Max hates seeing the Captain so unsure of herself. She usually never thought twice about a decision she had made. She had lied her way out of situations before, but never in that context.

“I’m sure you did the rightest thing you could, Cap. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” Nyoka added on after realizing that her opinion had made it worse.

“Yeah. Maybe.” The Captain said as they walked up the ramp of the landing pad.

The ship was fairly quiet as they entered, only a few distant sounds could be heard over the hum of the engine. Ellie and Parvati had gone to bed, Felix was raiding the fridge in the kitchen, and SAM was probably cleaning ADA’s units for the millionth time that day.

The Captain wanted to get the hell off of Gorgon, even if it was just for a day or two. But she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until the job was finished. She just wanted to get this over with so she could get on with her life.

Her mind was reeling with thoughts and replaying the day’s events over and over again. She couldn’t tell what was bugging her more. The fact that she was responsible for the death of Jerome or that she had lied to Leonora. It was probably a horrible thought, but it offered the Captain some peace knowing that Jerome never would’ve been with Leonora again, due to his marauder transformation and all.

But she subconsciously knew that there was much more to her discomfort than what was on the surface.

Nyoka, Max, and the Captain silently stashed their things away into the lockers at the front of the ship, the sounds of their weapons and whatever they had stashed in their pockets clinking and making other noises. Usually, the Captain took inventory at the end of the day, but she was too tired and honestly couldn’t have cared less.

The Captain’s gear had been stashed away until their next adventure, her head craning from one side to the other as she attempted to adhere to her achy muscles and tired bones. Nyoka didn’t say much else, knowing the Captain needed to be alone. Nyoka snatched a few bottles of Spectrum Vodka from the kitchen before holding herself in her room, not nearly as bothered as the Captain was.

Max had hardly taken his eyes off of the Captain the entire time. He studied her and watched her to see what she was feeling without her actually saying it. The Captain and Max had an interesting dynamic like that. He could read her and she could read him.

He just wished she wouldn’t beat herself up so much about this.

“[Y/N], darling,” He hushed out, his voice like smooth silk in her ear, “Please, don’t dwell on this too much.”

The Captain only shook her head, her eyes stinging with tears again and her throat heavy with the struggle to hold down that first sob.

“I’m going to shower. I just want to go to bed.” She stated, managing to conceal the quaver in her voice from him.

To anyone else, the Captain’s behavior would’ve been coming off as cold and hateful. But Max knew her too well for that. He knew she was hurt and upset with herself. She turned around the walk away from him, knowing that he understood where she was mentally right now.

He instinctively let his hand find her waist, keeping her from straying away from him. He looked into her bleary eyes, seeing the toll that this was taking on her.

“Okay, my love. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, trying his best to reassure her.

Now, he went to walk away, taking the Captain’s statement to mean that she wanted to be alone. But her frantic grab for him told him he was wrong. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the plain and simple fact that she did not want him to be away from her right now. Even more so, he heard it in her voice. The gentle request that came out as a crack of a whisper.

Almost as if he’d disappear if she spoke too boldly.

“Please don’t go.” She pleaded to her beloved priest.

A singular tear slid down her left cheek, creating a wet line through the layer of dirt caked on the Captain’s face. She wouldn’t let herself completely fall apart. Not yet anyway. She refused to let the emotion show on her features past the tears.

She was supposed to be the strong, blazing captain of The Unreliable. She was supposed to be the one person who never let things get in the way of things that needed to be done. Independent captains were supposed to keep their feelings stored away on a shelf, safe from all the horrible things that they had to see.

But what the Captain was beginning to realize was that all of those other captains had become that way BECAUSE they didn’t allow themselves to feel.

They had ruined themselves by trying so hard not to ruin themselves.

“Oh, Captain...oh, my darling,” Max said quietly and lowly, not to draw any attention in the event that someone was lingering around, “I’m here for you. I always have been and always will be.”

His hand slipped into hers, intertwining his fingers with hers. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss, bringing her to the shower of the ship. The water was hot and heavenly on the Captain’s skin, already washing away the dirt and grime she had collected during the day.

Silent tears were still streaming from her eyes as they stood together under the flow of water. He wiped away the tears as best as he could, his heart breaking with each new set of soundless tears that told the loudest story. She didn’t have to say that she needed comfort; he could see it and feel it.

“You’re so wonderful. You’re so incredible in so many ways,” Max said as he began to wash her hair, his hands massaging at her scalp, “Law only knows how you ended up in my life.”

Even through her tears, she managed a smile, along with a saddened and amused laugh.

“Did an outlaw, happenstance captain really change your life so much?” She asked him in a purely joking manner.

“You’ll never understand the half of it.” Max replied as seriously as ever.

Max made sure she was clean first, before getting himself clean as well. He continued to tell her sweet nothings. He continued to love her in the ways that he knew she responded well to. He couldn’t undo everything that had happened, and he couldn’t do much about the Captain’s worry. But he could be there for her through all her tribulations.

She took her usual place on the inside of the bunk once they were dressed for bed and back in her quarters. Max had slipped one of his shirts over her body, kissing her gently and carefully. His lips were met with her quivering ones, her final attempt at not completely breaking down in front of him.

She was pressed between the adjacent wall and Max’s body. She snuggled up next to him like she always did, but it wasn’t in the giddy way that she normally did when she was eager for cuddles. No, this was more of a slow pull of herself flush to him. Her head against his left pectoral and her hands reaching for one of his to play with. She was needy for comfort, rather than her usual nightly snuggles.

The trace scents of Max’s cologne filled her nose as she formed herself into his side. It was a smell that always grounded her. It brought her a sense of care. A sense of direction when she didn’t know where to go. A feeling of all the answers in a world of so many unanswered questions.

It made her feel a sense of home.

“Max?” She called out, not hiding the tremble in her voice this time.

He could feel the glass about to break. The glass underneath her that was protecting her bottled up feelings was beginning to crack and was on the verge of shattering and causing her to fall.

But he’d be there to catch her safely.

“Let it go, Captain,” He persuaded softly, holding her a little tighter in preparation for her inevitable meltdown, “I’m here.”

And then she did indeed let go.

The first real sob was a gut wrenching one. She felt it all the way from the bottom of her lungs to the tips of her toes. It was an overwhelming reaction, one so intense that even Max was a bit taken aback. She buried her face into the soft material of his shirt, muffling her pathetic cries in an attempt not to disturb anyone on the ship.

“I lied to her, Max.” The Captain sputtered, each word being thick with distress.

“You did what you simply had to do. Your decision wasn’t out of disrespect.” Max answered, his hand caressing her damp hair.

“It was her husband. I killed her husband, and I didn’t even have the guts to tell her that.” The Captain drawled, her tears seeping through Max’s shirt.

“You didn’t kill him. He was dead long before you ever pulled the trigger,” Max reminded her, referring to how Adrena-Time pretty much had sucked any life out of him beforehand, “Leonora and Jerome never would’ve ended up happily together again. Even if we had managed to get away with not killing him.”

The Captain seemed to be understanding that. It registered well in her head, but there was one part she was still so hung up on.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her that I killed him. I just couldn’t tell her that he had turned into a marauder. How could anyone come to terms with their lover becoming a fucking maniac?” She wept, “How could anyone ever get over the fact that the person they loved most was taken from them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it?”

Max was intrigued by the Captain’s specific choice of wording...but he sensed that there was a deeper issue that was causing her to fall apart like this. Max was doing absolutely everything he could to make her feel better. Unfortunately, she had just seen and dealt with too much since taking this Gorgon job. She was exhausted in every regard: emotionally, physically, mentally. He just wished that there was more that he could do beyond talking things out.

“It’s so overused to say, but life is unpredictably cruel sometimes. There was a reason for the way that things turned out.” Max said, kissing the crown of her head.

The Captain dwindled down into a series of sniffles and hiccuping cries, her head too rattled to say anything for the time being. Max caressed her skin, kissed her, touched her, and loved her. Anything he could do to remind her that he was there for her.

“Max?” She called again after a few more silent moments.

“Yes, my love?” He answered, letting his hand relax so she could fidget with it easier.

“I love you.” She declared, wiping at her tears fruitlessly.

Max and the Captain had exchanged “I love yous” before this moment. Surprisingly, Max had been the first to say it. He and the Captain had found themselves sitting alone together on Groundbreaker, sharing a bottle of Iceberg Whiskey and drowning out the day’s terrors. He had leaned over to press a kiss to her temple, when he whispered it lowly in her ear. She had returned the endearment, and not a day had passed where the two of them hadn’t said it at least once a day.

Even when they had been fighting or arguing over something meaningless, they never let the other go to bed angry. He could be past the point of enraged at her, and he would still tell her how he felt before they fell asleep. They were connected in the most beautiful way.

It felt so different to hear her say it in this kind of situation.

“I love you, Captain. I love you so much.” He drawled, suddenly interlacing his fingers with hers once again.

“When Leonora was telling her story...I couldn’t help but think about us.” The Captain admitted, her tears beginning to slow.

Max’s brows knitted together in both confusion and curiosity.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, leaving yet another kiss on her head.

“They traveled the colony together...ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time,” The Captain explained, “Max, that could easily happen to us.”

The Captain sat up from where she was laying next to him, her cheeks wet with tears and her eyes puffy. She wanted him to understand her worries and why this was bugging her so much.

She wanted him to see that she was afraid for them.

“Oh, darling, I assure you that’s nothing to concern yourself with. We’ve seen what Adrena-Time can do and it’s the reason for marauders, I’d never even give taking it a second thought.” Max assured her.

“I don’t mean with Adrena-Time. I just mean in general. This colony is so messed up. Literally anything could happen and if I lost you...” She trailed off, not even daring to finish the thought.

The vicar’s eyes softened even more than they already had. Although he knew better than to say this to her right now, he knew that they could realistically lose one another at any given moment. He wasn’t kidding when he said that life was cruel. It was always an open possibility...and not just for them.

“It could happen. I won’t deny that to you, but I find that it’s more important to savor and cherish the moments that we are blessed with...preferably while they’re still here,” Max said, knowing that probably wasn’t offering her any kind of resolve.

“Easier said than done.” The Captain grumbled.

“I know it’s not a great answer,” He confessed, a grin appearing on his face, “But for what it’s worth, I enjoy every single moment with you. I’ll spend every moment loving you.”

The Captain gave a light laugh, amused by his words.

“Even when I’m a crying mess and hysterical?” She tried to joke.

Max cupped her face, swiping more tears from her face as he answered with full seriousness.

“Especially then.”

The Captain took a few seconds to try and collect herself. Talking had helped some, but this was something she’d have to allow herself to work through. In time, The Captain would come to terms with what she had told Leonora. While she’d never know how Leonora came to terms with it, the Captain would rest easy knowing that she’d done what she thought was right.

Max gave her time to bask in the quiet, continuing to rub her leg that was peeking out from under the sheet. He kept his sights on her, watching her as she dazed out the window in front of her desk. He was proud of her for letting herself release her feelings out into the open. He knew that she kept things to herself more than he wanted her to, but as long as she knew that he was a resource for her, then he was okay.

“Come here.” He said when her gaze returned to him.

She crawled back into his open arms, falling into his frame for the millionth and certainly not the last time. He showered her with love for the rest of the night, wiping any tears that slipped down her face. He felt relief when she finally fell asleep, because he knew how badly she needed rest.

He stayed up long after she fell into a snooze, keeping her close in case she woke up again in a meltdown. He was sure that she was releasing lots of emotions that had been building up for quite some time, so he expected her to not fully be herself for a few days.

He’d be there for her until she felt better. Until she was back to being the woman that he had grown to love...but he loved her just as much even when she wasn’t feeling completely normal. While he hoped that he and his captain had lots of more adventures to go on and endeavors to discover, he was content with his happily ever after that he knew to be her. Because she had shown him love. She had shown him HOW to love.

She was his forever.

#Vicar Max #vicar max x reader #the outer worlds vicar max #vicar max fanfiction #vicar max oneshot #the outer worlds #the outer worlds fanfiction #maximillian desoto #the outer worlds max #vicar max x female captain #vicar max x female reader #vicar max x you #vicarfelix

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actordougjones · 5 years ago

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Helen Chavez 1959 ~ 2020

Sitting in silent conflict today, some numbness, many tears, grief, and the happiest memories that make my heart smile. To lose a close friend (whom I referred to as my big sister for the last 16 years) to complications from covid-19 and other health issues, is a blow I could not be prepared for. Yet to sit with my memories of her is a relished joy.

Many knew her as “Hellmistress” on the Sony Pictures Hellboy message boards in 2003. As I was an occasional visitor in those boards while filming Hellboy, I took special note of the witty, gentle, sarcastic, encouraging posts from this woman I found myself wanting to know more of.

She made her way into those message boards by way of her love for Ron Perlman, as she also was a contributing writer for a site called ThePerlmanPages dot com. But once in there, and once we got to interacting, Helen and I both found kindred spirits in each other, about the same age, about the same irreverent sense of humor.

She jokingly described herself as “windswept and interesting.” When we finally met in person the first time around the premiere events Guillermo del Toro had arranged for these fans of Hellboy in April 2004, I found this description of her to be true. All I had to hear was that Helen had sold a cow to finance her flight from Scotland, and I knew I was right about this one! Yes, she and her husband Mark raised cattle on their rural farm outside Aberdeenshire, Scotland. But she was also a highly knowledgeable archivist at the local museum there. With a thirst for learning, and a lover of history, artifacts, classic film, TV, music, literature, science fiction, and all things geekery, she did indeed earn her “windswept and interesting” title.

(Our first in-person meeting after “Hellebration” 2004 with Sony Pictures Hellboy message board regulars, Left to Right: Maurice Mpayamaguru, Dougie, Pat Paone, Helen Chavez - who was so excited to be having a burger with American ketchup!)

She flew away the next day in 2004, but that would not be the last of this Helen. Upon returning home to Scotland, her friend and ThePerlmanPages creator Pat Paone (who had also been on this trip) said something to Helen that lingered in the air... “After this entire ‘Hellebration’ weekend in Los Angeles, do you realize you haven’t stopped talking about Doug Jones?” which struck Helen odd since she was a devout Perlman fan who was gushing about someone other than Ron after a weekend to celebrate a movie in which Ron held the title character.

That’s when I received an email from Helen proposing an official website she wanted to create for me. So was born TheDougJonesExperience dot com, a site that was lovingly poured over and updated by Helen as her pet project that she never let me pay a dime for, no matter how I tried, from 2004 to 2014, when her own life required her to take pause. That pause from the site included finishing up her Masters Degree, still working full time at the museum, still tending the cattle, and now caregiving to her husband’s failing health ... followed by her own health issues.

She was ever the stoic type, though, who never ever, EVER wanted to be a burden on me, so I would rarely hear of her trials in life unless I told her, “I’m not hanging up until you start talking.” She would always brush off her own issues and turn things back around to doting on me like the protective big sister she loved being. She also took in Mrs. Laurie as her little sister with great pride.

To sum up the amount of life shared with this incredible woman would take volumes. Volumes that could be tied together with one thread.... “cheerleader.” She championed me personally and professionally with the kind of care and tireless energy that gave my own mother and Mrs. Laurie a run for their money!

Her cheerleading came in the form of not only that exhaustive website with endless fan correspondence as she wrote with a voice that was uncannily like my own, then later helping administrate “The Tank” forum on DelToroFilms dot com where “FanSapiens” would gather to chat about little ol’ me, but also trips to see me when I was in the United Kingdom for a fan convention in Birmingham, or a make-up trade show in London. She also ingratiated herself to Guillermo del Toro and was invited to visit our Hellboy II: The Golden Army filming set in Budapest with her old friend Pat Paone, spending a large part of that visit with me through my whole day, from make-up, to the Troll Market set, to lunchtime, to afternoon naps in my trailer for all of us, to touring the city on a rare day off.

(During Hellboy 2 set visit 2007 at Budapest, Hungary’s “Hero Square” pictured Left to Right: Pat Paone, Dougie, Helen Chavez)

And I could never tally up the countless hours of phone chats, messenger chats, book-length emails, where she was often celebrating successes with me, calming my nerves when I had failed, giving me some well-needed big sisterly advice on life, or playfully nagging me to sleep and eat more. Boy, was she ever stern about those last two. If I even hinted that I had been pushing myself too hard, not sleeping enough, not eating right, she would give me “the look.” You don’t want “the look.” It was that raised eyebrows, all-knowing eyes searing into me kind of look, with a probing stare over the top of her glasses into my soul kind of look. You could hide nothing from her when she gave “the look.”

I adored hearing all her tales from her museum, getting history lessons all the while about who used what in what century in what country for what purpose, everything from farm tools to ancient toilet paper. To keep me in her loop, one year for Christmas she sent me some ancient Roman coins, after I had mentioned how I love looking at coins, waving it off with, “those things are so easy to come by.” Her gifts were always accompanied by authentic Scottish shortbread cookies. But my favorite story of hers was the mummy head she had no better place for, so he lived under her desk ... for years. And of course, she named him “Marlon.”

I’ve always been a hugger, but Helen is the one who taught me about “Bosies.” The difference being that a Bosie is a huggle that doesn’t need to end anytime soon, where you envelop the other person in a cradle that makes them feel safe. She was masterful at those Bosies.

I could tell Helen stories for hours, as could so many of you puppies whose lives she touched with her listening skills, mentorship, and her tireless encouragement to keep all of us creatives reaching for our dreams.

(Pictued at “Hellebration” 2008 with “FanSapiens” Left to Right: Tim Rosenberger, Katie McGregor, Helen Chavez, Stephanie Metz, Dougie, Kate Daley, Seth Lombardi)

(Pictured at Hellboy 2 premiere after party 2008 with DelToroFilms regulars; Top row: Paul Kindschi, Gary Deocampo, Maurice Mpayamaguru. Bottom row: Helen Chavez, Dougie)

But I’ll leave you with one last story. It was 2008, and we flew Helen out to Los Angeles (I didn’t want her to sell another cow) to join all the festivities for the premiere week of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, and to see the finished product of the film set she visited with me the year before. Everything from having a salon day with Mrs. Laurie to get all done up for the red carpet premiere, and the next day she was sporting a fancy fish-print top to dutifully lead Team Blue (those beloved FanSapiens) at the Del Toro sponsored “Hellebration” party and screening night. Another experience I wanted to give her that week was her first press junket, so Mrs. Laurie gladly went to her own job that day, and Helen went with me down to the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, where many film press junkets take place on a floor full of press suites. These are high energy days, as one after another, TV, radio, print, and dot com journalists interview us back to back all day. Helen watched from behind the monitors with Publicist John, and every time I glanced over, she was just beaming as she gave me a thumbs-up. At the end of this marathon day, we were heading home in the back of the studio-hired limo, and my eyes were getting droopy in the dark. Helen glanced over the top of her glasses with “the look” and said with all the doting mother, favorite auntie, protective big sister she had in her, “Awe, little brother mine, come here.” I leaned my head onto her shoulder, while she pet my hair and told me how overjoyed she was with this phase of my life, and how watching me handle all the press that day made her “buttons burst with pride,” a phrase she used many a time. She always knew how to bring such peace, such calm, such encouragement, such a safe harbor. The next thing I knew the car stopped in front of the house, and I awoke with her still holding my weary head.

Oh how I wish for one more limo ride. One more chance to soak in her uplifting words, so I might know how to handle whatever comes next.

She went by many names -- Hellmistress, Webmaster Helen, or her preferred “Webmistress” Helen, Auntie Helen, Mentor Helen, Therapist Helen, Dear Friend Helen, Big Sister Helen, but there was only one Helen in this wacky world. She leaves a void that no one else can fill. It’s painful how much I miss her already.

I pray the angels gave her a thrilling ride to her rightful place in Heaven. I can almost feel her gaze again right now, as she sits at the edge of a crescent moon, tilts her gaze down over the top of her glasses and gives me “the look”.....

Alright, Big Sis, I’ll eat something and get to sleep now.

#rip #hellmistress #webmaster helen #sister #dear friend

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

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Calling on the Rain

Summary: What’s a first date without an interlude from Mother Nature? Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (part of the Yvonne/Ray/Arlo series which I’ve yet to name. 🤦🏽‍♀️) Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: All the fluff! A/N: This was a request from the lovely @livinglifeformemyselfandi ! Enjoy!!

Completing a PhD in clinical psychiatry at Cornell tended to leave one without time for any sort of social life. Lately however, Yvonne had found herself trying to carve out little bits of it here and there. All because of a guy.

Being 26 with an MCAT score in the 500’s, Yvonne had breezed through her undergraduate program, but with her time at med school coming to a close, the pressure was on. She could start applying for her residency positions next year, and while she was beyond excited, the major shift didn’t come without a healthy dose of fear. She needed some time to simply…be, and since she wasn’t a fan of being alone, finally accepting a date from the guy in her neuro class seemed like the best idea.

Arlo was from London, and though he’d explained it more than once, Yvonne still couldn’t fathom why he’d chosen to do his med program in the States. It didn’t matter however; the moment he’d opened his mouth, she was a goner.

The plans for the day were simple. A walk around town, taking in the sites, lunch at a little cafe that had an unbelievable dessert selection, and finally, a late show of a movie they’d both wanted to see.

Putting on a pair of Navy shorts, a cream tank top, and a matching pair of strappy sandals, she checked her hair and makeup one last time before heading out to meet Arlo in the common room. To say she was nervous was an understatement, but Yvonne knew that if she chickened out or cancelled on him again, she’d lose her shot with him and that was the last thing she wanted.

Arlo’s glance up at her put an ear-to-ear smile on Yvonne’s face, flustering her to the point where she had to keep her hand on the railing despite usually being okay without it.

“You look lovely,” he said as he extended his arm to her, Yvonne taking a moment to take him in before linking her arm through his. She was glad she wasn’t over or underdressed, and couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when she realized they matched.

“And you look very handsome,” Yvonne replied, her nerves easing a bit as they got moving.

“How’re you doing on your project?”

“Nope. Don’t wanna talk about it. Any topic other than school,” Yvonne grinned before playfully letting her head fall to his shoulder as though she were going to faint. Arlo laughed warmly, squeezing her hand as he thought about other topics. Never once did he ask her to move her head, and never once did Yvonne entertain the notion. After a few moments, his arm came around her, tucking her in close.

“Any topic other than school. Fair. What’s a movie that you can watch over and over again?”

“The second Mighty Ducks movie,” Yvonne answered sheepishly, pushing her face into Arlo’s chest as her cheeks caught fire.

“Didn’t take you for the sports type. I’ll keep that in mind come winter,” Arlo grinned, giving her a playful wink. It was his words that caught Yvonne’s heart in her chest however, the easy way he promised that they’d still be a thing at least until next winter. It intrigued her and Yvonne couldn’t help the excitement she felt at the prospect of actually having someone to be with.

“What about you?”

“Mine? I’m gonna have to go with...The Professional. Still holds up.”

Arlo held the door for Yvonne as they veered into one of the first shops along their walk, a place that sold a variety of different knick-knacks, from old skeleton keys to little frog statues, and even street signs. Though the aisles were narrow, they manage to stay side by side, Yvonne relaxing more and more into the warmth of his chest as they browsed.

“What’s one dish you’d never stop eating if there was an endless amount of it in front of you?” He asked as they checked out postcards, the majority related to their chosen alma mater.

“Ooh, good question! Fettuccine. Always. So yummy,” Yvonne answered, hoping her stomach wouldn’t growl at the thought of her favorite meal, especially since she’d skipped breakfast on account of nerves.

“Yeah, Fettuccine’s great. Personally, I’d be really sad if the world didn’t have pizza,” Arlo chuckled, letting her lead the way to the back of the store, where they had all sorts of games and toys, a few that harkened back to childhood.

Yvonne couldn’t help but reach for the magic 8 ball as soon as she saw it, her grin turning excited as she shook it.

“Will we enjoy the movie?” She asked, one eyebrow raised as she gazed up at Arlo, giggling when his expression mirrored hers. When the liquid settled, the window read a clear answer.

Outlook good.

“I hope so. Everyone can’t stop talking about it,” Arlo laughed, shaking his head before taking the 8 ball from Yvonne and giving it a shake of his own.

“Will my devastatingly smart and beautiful date find me up to snuff before the night is out?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice soft in the quiet store. Yvonne couldn’t help but cover her mouth to muffle her laughter when he showed her the answer.

My sources say no.

Arlo pouted, giving her his best puppy dog eyes, hunched shoulders and all.

“That’s not true!” Yvonne shook her head, giggling as she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, unable to help the little flutter in her heart when his already ruddy cheeks went a shade pinker. The blush was made even better by his smile, the genuine happiness bringing out a more youthful side to him.

Taking the eight ball back, Yvonne shook it vigorously while she thought of a question to ask. She wanted it to be something outlandish, a prediction that couldn’t be true in a million years. Something that would cement this as the best date she’d ever been on, were it to come true.

“Will it rain on our date? Maybe right at the very end so I don’t have to walk around with frizzy hair all day?” Once more her eyebrow went up, part of her hoping it happened, and part hoping it didn’t, if only because she’d just gotten her hair done two days before and she’d opted for a silk press. As gorgeous as it was, it wasn’t rainproof in the slightest, and Yvonne didn’t want it to get ruined.

Better not tell you now.

Shrugging, she smiled sweetly at Arlo before wiggling her eyebrows, eyes wide. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“That was…”

“Delicious,” Arlo agreed, taking Yvonne’s hand as they made their way out of the restaurant, having a little time--and a small walk--to the theater.

They’d both chosen the Fettucine--hers with chicken and his with steak--and a glass of wine, and though the cafe was somewhat empty given the time of day, it might as well have been last call, because Yvonne felt like there was no one else in there with her except Arlo and she couldn’t have been happier.

He’d paid without even asking, so as they approached a candy store, Yvonne all but pushed him inside, giggling like a mischievous kid as she did so. “My treat. Can’t go to the movies without a few essentials.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Arlo let her lead him through the aisles, picking out things here and there, wondering how much of it would be used as study fuel later on when they headed back to the reality that was med school.

“So we’ve got Reese’s Pieces, gummy bears, fuzzy peaches, Milk Duds, and of course, Junior Mints.” Yvonne explained her haul as they left the store, carefully putting each candy in her purse and shuffling things around so that nothing bulged inconspicuously.

“I’ll never understand why theaters get upset when people bring their own candy. It’s not as though we haven’t already paid for the tickets,” Arlo mused, gently shifting Yvonne out of the way of a cyclist who was careening down the sidewalk. Startled to be moved so suddenly, Yvonne was about to say something to Arlo when the gust of wind caused by the passing cyclist nearly took her off her feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered, one eye half shut as she tried to blink the dust out of it. Yvonne’s breath caught in her throat when she felt Arlo’s warm hands cup her face. “Open as much as you can, and I’ll try and blow it out,” he explained, keeping her face steady and waiting until he saw her brown eyes fully opened before letting a quick burst of air escape his lips.

“Better?” Arlo asked, ducking his head to meet Yvonne’s gaze.

“Yes, much better, actually. Thank you. Again,” she smirked, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek, this time unable to help but smooth her hand over Arlo’s blushing cheek.

Yvonne would later chalk it up to misleading marketing and the exhaustion of med school, but after sitting through the first half of the movie--and half a bag of gummy bears which she shared with Arlo--she found her eyes growing heavy. Before she realized it, she was out like a light. Far from being put off, Arlo carefully lifted the armrest that separated them and tugged her in close, letting her head rest on his chest as his arm cradled her gently. As the credits rolled, he rubbed her back gently to wake her.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” Yvonne groaned as she straightened herself out, realizing what she’d done. Arlo couldn’t help his big grin, finding her utterly endearing in her half-awake state.

“You didn’t miss much, believe me. I’ve half a mind to petition the movie studio for my money back, it was so boring.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t just me. Good. That makes me feel a little better,” she shook her head, remembering what little she’d seen of the movie and how she kept waiting for the action to begin.

“Ah, well, two out of three isn’t bad. Overall I think we did alright, no? As far as first dates go?” The anxiety and hope in his facial expression made Yvonne smile, knowing full well he was wishing on every last star in the sky that she would feel the same.

“I think we did more than alright. I think there’s second and third date potential there, mister.”

This time, Arlo blushed hard enough that he had to look away, though there was no missing the big, bright grin and the excitement in his eyes. Yvonne held him a little closer as they walked through the theater’s lobby, her own smile unwavering until she took a look outside.

“Oh my!” Arlo exclaimed, his expression a mix between true shock and more than a little amusement.

“Guess the 8 ball was right,” Yvonne answered, cringing momentarily before dissolving into giggles. “I just had to ask about rain, huh?”

“That just means you’re magic, love. True magic,” Arlo’s laughter sobered as he spoke, his blue eyes softening as he gazed down at Yvonne, looking for all the world like a man head-over-heels in love.

Pausing to think for a moment, Yvonne weighed their options; a taxi back to student housing (which would cost a fortune) or ruining her hair (which would also cost a pretty penny) on the first date with the first guy she’d truly been interested in since her childhood crush on her brother’s friend. Taking a deep breath, she took Arlo’s hand and tugged him through the door, knowing they were both about to get soaked to the bone.

“Love, what are you doing!?” Arlo called over the pouring rain, squinting against the drops and trying his best to pull Yvonne back into the building.

“Come on! I’ve always wanted to dance under the rain!” Yvonne answered, beaming at Arlo despite the drops that battered down on them.

Though he couldn’t hear it at first, when Arlo finally reached Yvonne, the soft sounds of music coming from a nearby restaurant were clear. Pulling her flush to his chest, Arlo took her hand in his and slipped the other around her waist.

Time ground to a halt as they slow danced, forgetting the rain, the cars going by, or even the people watching from inside the stores. There was only the rain, the stars, and the other person.

Their eyes met as the rain began to slow from a downpour to a sprinkle, and without a moment’s hesitation, Yvonne reached up on her tip toes and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to Arlo’s lips, capping off the best date she’d ever had, ever.

Two things were certain to Yvonne as she and Arlo slowly parted from their kiss; she’d have to make more time to simply be, with Arlo, and she’d have to go back for that Magic 8 Ball soon.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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chessdaze · 4 years ago

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Three Wishes Institute - A TWST fanschool

Reposting this as I’ve changed my URL which broke all the links in my previous lore post, and since I’ve gotten a lot of new followers lately and wanted them to be able to read it properly.

First off, as a concept, Three Wishes is a fanschool for twisted wonderland that involves characters that are considered ‘side’ or ‘background’ or even ‘comic relief’ characters from disney franchises. Right now I only have 6 dorms, and characters range from being on both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sides of a story.

Here’s the lore rundown for the main school itself and a brief summary on the dorms and characters I will be designing for them. Under readmore cause this is HELLA long and I don’t want to make people scroll for forever:

The overall story of Three Wishes:

The Headmistress and Master, Amelia Bell and Reed Dearly (based on Anita and Roger from 101 dalmatians), only recently got the school property. Before them, the school was known to be really rundown, a failure, and pretty much on the verge of closing. While it was a school for magic, it was like all the magic was zapped out of the school itself. It was filled with delinquents and very few students who actually cared. Most dropped out if anything.

Amelia was a teacher at the school for a little over a year and the only teacher that students really respected and bothered showing up to class for. She hated seeing the school in the state it was in and tried pleading with the headmistress of the school to try and change things - however was constantly told it was too late and that the school would be closing. It did, and Amelia had to look for jobs elsewhere. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done more and found herself drawn back to the crumbling school on more than one occasion. She decided to sneak in one day to see if she could find a hint of anything from the old headmistress - who had disappeared without a trace - to see if she could get in contact with her. This wasn’t her idea of course, but her (boyfriend at the time) Reed’s.

Eventually they did track down the headmistress and found her terribly ill. Amelia insisted that the two of them care for her, despite all that the headmistress had done to shun Amelia beforehand. They did, and during that time Amelia explained the hopes she had previously had for the school - she said how she wanted a school that anyone could feel welcome to apply, and not have some special ceremony for acceptance (like the carriages for NRC). She believed people could be equals and that as a magical community they should all help one another. The old headmistress was moved by Amelia’s words and when she back to health she revealed herself to be a powerful sorceress (the enchantress from Beauty and the Beast. No design as of now). She explained she had been looking for a worthy successor for the school and her magic but didn’t find Amelia fitting at the time, but saw the kindness in Amelia’s heart and offered her the deed to the school and the surrounding grounds. She wanted to see what Amelia would do with the school and was interested if she could really bring a community together like she explained. Then, she disappeared.

Amelia and Reed worked to renovate the school, taking nearly 2 years on the project. Amelia comes from a wealthy family, but even then funds were not endless, so a lot of fundraising was done to also raise awareness for the reopening school. At first there wasn’t much interest but it slowly got more and more traction. With donations and family money, they were able to complete the school. The two of them also got engaged during this time. Even with them rebuilding the mainschool and doing some maintenance on the dorms themselves, there are some secrets that even the two of them are still learning, as the sorceress took off before giving them the full details on the school itself.

The school’s aim is to not only teach its students magic, but the foundation of being a good person, being helpful and selfless. The school holds a lot of community and fundraising events, and there is even a mandatory volunteering class where students have to spend a certain amount of hours volunteering for a local community service. This school hopes to bridge the gap between the elite and average magic users, showing that deep down everyone is human and deserving of respect and a chance to grow.

This school doesn't have completely different areas for the dorms and it's all actually located on a large campus ground.The main school building is about 4 stories, there's a greenhouse and an auditorium in separate buildings.

The dorms are all two or three stories and are all relatively distant from each other, enough to give each dorm a good spot of land around it. Think a mansion with a large yard. When passing through the front gate for the dorm there's magic that makes it appear in a slightly different scenery - so the students don't always have the school looming in the background and can relax. The dorm's scenery is different between each dorm and it can change with each 'dorm representative'.

There aren't really dorm 'leaders' as there are representatives. Normally about two or three for each dorm - though can only be one if the person proves themselves to be capable / no one else is voted. Each dorm will have a meeting once a month to go over things that the dorm needs to address either internally or with the school or other dorms, and then the representatives bring those concerns to a meeting with the school's staff and other dorm representatives. Think more like a student council and class presidents. The representatives make almost all decisions together. Reps are voted for each year within a dorm, and the voting is taken pretty seriously.

The dorm rep duties outside of the meetings is mostly just like a college RA. They make sure people are following the rules, help solve problems between students in their dorm, plan and hold events, etc.

The dorms:

While students are separated into dorms in this school, the headmaster and mistress try to stress the fact that they are all one community. Friendly rivalry is encouraged but ultimately the matter of dorms is just where the students end up living and placing them near people who can better help those around them. The two in charge don’t want the dorms to become too competitive or to alienated from one another - so there’s actually a lot of cross dorm events and even friends staying over at other friends dorms for days on end at times.

As a note, as long as it’s not inappropriate, students are encouraged to wear anything they want as their ‘dorm uniform’. Standard school uniforms are required on the main campus but as Headmaster Reed puts it - there’s no reason for them to tell the students what to wear in their own house. Plus, the school isn’t as well funded as most other private schools, so not having a lot of uniforms to keep up with is better for them in the long run. They don’t even have a formal ceremonial robe like NRC does, but I will be posting about the uniforms in a different post.

Now onto the dorms themselves.

Cinderella dorm: Nightingale Founded on the hard work and dedication of a princess’s companions, members of this dorm are no strangers to teamwork and getting the job done. It’s said that there’s no miracle students in this dorm can’t pull off in a short amount of time. Members of this dorm are close and they will drop anything they’re doing to help another.