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ghostgorlsworld · 11 months

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Moondrunk Monster Part 4 (werewolf!ghost x reader)

You're a retired combat medic that made a mistake, costing you your cushy office job. As punishment, you're sent to an active war zone, where you meet the 141, a squad of werewolves that slowly accept you as their own. (I know, I know I'm bad at summarizing)

WARNINGS: SEXUAL ASSULT, not explicit just discussed. Pls be cautious

Nothing much happens lol but we are ramping up the tension. I promise ghost will interact more in the next chapter, he's just shy--also maybe a ghost pov soon? Idk i'm thinking about it

Part 4

You awoke with cotton mouth and the kind of dizziness that only comes from the best pain medication the military has to offer.

It was dark outside now, the quiet hum of the generator and Shane’s soft breathing in your ear. Graves was set up in the far corner of the infirmary, Avon passed out on your bunk in a mess of tan limbs and tan scrubs.

A man in a skull mask was asleep in the chair in front of you, his head tipped back against the wall, his legs relaxed and spread wide. He was still caked in muck, which meant that he had been there all night.

Your bladder twinged, the reason why you were awake making itself known. You had to piss. Badly.

You slid off the cot carefully, eyeing Ghost as the springs creaked. You didn’t want to wake him, especially not to tell him you were about to piss your pants.

Your boots were by his feet so you went without, padding past him in nothing but your military issued socks. You were on enough medication that you could hardly even feel the ache in your shoulder, but it made you clumsy, your hip bumping into a cabinet on your way out.

You held your breath, glancing at the sleeping Ghost in your chair.

He didn’t stir, his chest moving up and down rhythmically. You stared for a moment. It wasn’t often he was this…relaxed.

His sleeve had ridden up, exposing pale, tattooed skin on his wrist. It took your breath away for a moment, your eyes stuck on that tiny sliver of skin that told you he really was a man, a man that had curly blonde hairs on his forearm and a scar that looked like a bite over his wrist.

God, you really had to be lonely to be losing your mind over someone you’d never even seen. You didn’t even know his real name, just his moniker. Ghost.

Your bladder clenched, interrupting your reverie. You sucked in a breath and hurried to the bathroom.

The bathroom was thankfully a brick-and-mortar structure, a few of the female guards relieving themselves in the stalls or showering. You finished your business quickly, pausing at the sink to scrub your hands, and then, after seeing the dirt and blood on your face, attacking your skin with a rough cloth and generic hand soap.

Tomorrow, you would shower, you told yourself. Your arm looked even worse than it had before you fell asleep, your skin now smeared with the bright purples and greens of bruises, shiny with swelling.

You blew out a breath. “You’re too old for this shit,” you told yourself in the shitty mirror, and it was the truth. You never wanted to get back in action. You missed your air conditioned office and comfortable scrubs, you missed iced coffee in the mornings and good food.

This was a punishment. You were the one woman that cried wolf, and in turn they sent you to this hellhole.

You could die here.

They had said it was your choice, that you could choose to fill Graves’ request for a medic, or be discharged, stripping you of retirement and the healthcare you had gotten too used to.

Graves had to know why you were here. Rumors spread like wildfire in the military, and you had been the hot gossip of the week.

The meek little nurse that had put a Colonel’s son in the ER.

His name was John Wynn, and he was a bastard. You weren’t blind, you had seen and experienced the worst sides of the military, the sides they worked hard to hide. In the early days, before you learned to bite back, there were incidents.

Recruits and sargents disappearing into rooms together, incidents hidden with orders from higher up, hands where they shouldn’t be, those were the things that happened in male dominated atmospheres, and for a long time, you accepted it.

Until some punk twenty five year old with a single tour under his belt and his daddy’s power tried it with you. It took you off guard when it began, you’ll admit it, it shook you more than you thought it would.

You just didn’t think you would have to fight in the world you had grown comfortable in, and you convinced yourself that it was nothing. The way he looked at you, touched you, how the new recruits scurried from him like frightened rats.

You should have known better.

But then again, he should have known better. You weren’t his usual victim, the shy, anxious-to-please recruit that would do anything to keep from being reported.

In a decade of service, you managed to keep your soul. You were damned if you would let that insignificant little rapist take it from you.

John Wynn ended up in the ER with a shattered cheekbone and a bruised dick, while you walked away without even a fingerprint. His daddy wanted blood, but a few of your superiors tried to protect you and gave you the option to get out of sight for a while, at least long enough that you could finally bring yourself to walk away for good.

You sighed, straightening in the mirror. You looked like hell, your hair wild, your face swollen. You wondered why Ghost still stared.

You were quiet as you made your way back to the infirmary, your steps stumbling and clumsy. The drugs were hooking even deeper into your system, slowing your brain.

That was probably why you hadn’t noticed a pair of yellow eyes watching you from the darkness. At least, not until they moved, a massive shape coming into sight.

You hadn’t seen a wolf in its true form since Donny shook you like a rag doll. The shock of it stopped you in your tracks, your breath catching.

It was silver, the pale fur catching the moonlight like a…

Ghost.

He watched you from the shadows, the stare so familiar it was disturbing to see on an animal’s face.

He was huge. The biggest you had ever seen, scars marking his muzzle so badly you understood why he wore a mask as a man, his left ear bitten through and ragged.

You stumbled, the meds making you as weak as a kitten. “Ghost is that you?” You whispered. “Why’re you…”

He looked up.

The moon was full.

You peered into the 141’s tent. The beds were empty.

They were gone too.

“You can go,” you whispered. “I’ll be fine, LT, I promise.”

Ghost growled, an unearthly sound that sent the hair on your neck standing straight up. He bared his teeth, long fangs snapping.

It felt wrong to stare directly at his face, so you didn’t, settling on his strangely humanoid shoulders. “Alright,” you said, shuffling along. “As long as you don’t try to eat me, LT.” He rumbled, as if say no promises. Ghost rose from his haunches, standing to his full height under the moon. You wondered what the overhead cameras saw, if they wondered why their LT was standing in the middle of base, furry and naked.

In fact, you were wondering that yourself.

Your heart raced. It was such a human instinct, to see a predator and want to either kiss it or run from it.

“Jesus,” you said weakly. “I wouldn’t want to run up on you in a fight.”

It was shocking really, the reminder that these men you had been treating like friends were truly not like you at all. As much as Soap laughed and spoke, there was still an edge to him, the way his eyes glinted when he smiled, the too-sharp edge of his teeth.

Ghost seemed to like your attention, his ears perked at the top of his head. It was oddly endearing, and you normally considered yourself a cat person.

It was like he wanted you to see him. Wanted you to be…impressed?

“Right,” you said, forcing a nod. “Well, off to bed for me I think. I’ve had a weird day.”

You wobbled your way back into your cot, stripping your socks off your feet before settling in. Ghost watched you all the while, hungry and intense as he stood vigilant in the shadows.

For days after, you still weren’t sure if Ghost had truly shown you his other form, or if you had dreamed it up. The memory was blurred and hazy–you mostly remembered the piercing yellow-eyed stare, the way it made your stomach twist.

It was as if you were twenty again, nervous and stuttering on a first date. Just being around him sets your skin on fire.

You had never been attracted to a wolf before. In the past, you picked responsible, healthy men that had good jobs and stable lives because your life was always so chaotic. It was nice to come home to a man that would rub your calves and ask about your day.

Ghost didn’t seem like that kind of man. For one, he wasn’t a man–and again, you had no idea if wolves even liked human women like that. Like everyone else in the world, you had heard rumors about certain preferences but…he seemed different.

He barely touched you. Barely spoke to you.

But his eyes. They were always, always on you.

So, one day, you got the balls to ask Soap.

“Does your kind…um,” you began, unable to stop yourself from blushing. “Does your kind like humans?”

Soap paused in the knife he was sharpening, cocking a dark brow at you. “How do you mean?” God, he was going to make you say it. “Romantically, I mean. Does it happen?”

Soap was silent for a moment, his mouth twisting as he dropped the knife onto the table. It took you a moment to realize he was laughing at you, his hand pressed to his mouth.

“Shut up, Soap,” you said, humiliated. “Just answer the question.”

He gives you a good razzing, his eyes twinkling like he knew exactly why you were asking. “Bonnie, when was the last time you met a female wolf?”

You frowned. You hadn’t thought about it. “Never, I suppose.” “Ever wondered why?” You shook your head. “It’s a recessive gene. Passes from father to son or mother to daughter in most families, though I s’pose a few of the older ones could be exceptions. Most of the wolf-women I’ve met prefer human men, and vice versa, it’s a way we reproduce, see, two wolves means that the child will be closer to an animal, but one wolf is balanced.”

“So…your kind prefers humans?” Soap made a face. “For the most part, yeah. Even me.”

You raised a brow, smiling. “Oh, even you? What, do you have somebody at home I don’t know about?”

To your surprise, Soap flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Wait, do you?” You asked, taken off guard. He was only a handful of years younger than you, but he was wild and restless enough that it seemed strange to think of him settling down.

He laughed, flashing teeth at you, even as he looked away. There was something about Johnny that was so hungry, the urge to be needed, to be liked. He made himself a better killer just so he had a purpose in the world.

“No,” he said, “I don’t. There’s a pretty girl in the cafe down the street, and I’ll go in just to hear her ask me what I want.”

“That’s kind of sad,” you said. Despite the obvious…wolfishness about him, he was handsome, dark hair and blue eyes and that ridiculous mohawk. He was too young to look so alone.

He shrugged. “It’s different for us, lass.”

The back of your neck prickled. You were being watched.

“Well, Johnny,” you said, standing. “You miss all the shots you don’t take, and I don’t know a single woman, excluding myself, that could resist those baby blues. Do me a favor and ask her out next time, you’re too young to feel old and miserable like me.” Soap smiled, a bit of cheer back in his eye. “You’re only three years older’n me, lass, I wouldn’t call ye old.” You waved the statement off, already thinking of the rounds you needed to take, patients you needed to check. “Please, I haven’t had a proper date in years, I may as well be eighty with cats.”

Soap hummed, amused like he knew something you didn’t. “I’m sure your dry spell will end soon enough. Did you see Graves eyeing your arse over the coffee machine?” You kicked him for that one, a good swat in the knee as he fell over himself laughing.

#cod x reader #cod mw3 #ghost x reader #soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #call of duty mw3 #modern warfare 2

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floppyponysart · 4 months

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Mane 6 redesigns - mlpfim fanart

I made these a good while ago and thought hard about them but no-one cared at the time coz it wasn't a trend but now it is for some reason so I guess I'm gonna try reposting lol -v-'

get ready coz there is a long description of my inspirations and more details about these redesigns coming below. get ready for crazy amount of text

Twilight

This is basically my concept for "what if twilight was like an actual nerd?".

i gave her freckles/acne and glasses coz they are typical nerdy things. i think they look super cute on her tho ^w^. i got rid of her highlights in her hair coz (even tho it is probably meant to be natural in the show) nerds dont have time for adding highlights to their hair. her hair is also shorter to make it look more like the kind of practical hair cut girl nerds often have. she is wearing her comfy clothes coz she wants to be cozy when studying and doesnt care how she looks. she is wearing her favourite nerdy fluffy socks with her fav star constellations on them (i only know the big dipper lol -v-'). she is also wearing her comfy grey plain hoodie. for some reason every nerd seems to have a plain grey hoodie. it has spare pens in the pockets to.

she has a different cutiemark here which is basically my concept for what her cutiemark might have been if she wasn't the fated leader of the elements of harmony. it represents her studious personality and her love of stars. I also gave her a big backpack stuffed full of supplies. i can attest to the fact that studious students never have enough equipment and our bags look like this XD. it is an old but sturdy bag which has even been patched up but still going. there is a pink ruler sticking out coz everyone seemed to have those pink rulers when i was at school lol.

Every badge on this bag actually is meant to have a specific subject although its hard to see so small. now i will go through each one. Top left green one with dark blue what looks like an animal is a picture of an Ursa Minor. Brown one top right is a man holding a bow ancient etching on a cave wall picture. Big blue one is obviously more star constellations. Bottom right is a fire so hot the flame is blue. Right middle one is a skull. Middle brown and green one is an abandoned church structure. Bottom middle blue one is the Milky Way. Bottom left is a nerdy funny quote. Middle green one I actually don’t remember what it was meant to be anymore. I’m gonna day it is a rare plant tho coz that makes sense I think it was something like that. It might have also been an old weapon artefact as I remember that being one of my ideas at the time. Brown middle left was a catapult shooting a melon.

Applejack

This one is simpler than the last one. I already really like applejacks design and I had less ideas but I still like this. First things first, I think it would be more fitting if Applejack was a different species of pony. Here I have her as more of a wild pony which is hairier. I have her hair as rougher and shorter coz a farmer realistically would definitely not have long hair as it would get in the way of work. That has always been something that annoys me. Her hair in the show does look very nice but it just makes no sense. I didn’t change her cutiemark much coz her cutiemark from Pony Life is almost perfect. I just changed the shape of the leaf a little bit. I did add a speckled spot on her thigh around it tho. This is reminiscent of another species of horse and I think it adds a little more detail to make her look nice. It also matches her freckles on her face.

Speaking of her freckles, I added more all over her face and ears coz anyone with freckles will know it doesn’t usually stay in one pretty place on the cheeks. I think she looks cuter this way to be honest. She has cheeks which are a little chubby which makes her look younger than she actually is. Some people have a baby face for a longer time than most and idk but I felt this fit. She looks super cute and I love it. She has a hole in one ear which makes her look a little more imperfect and it shows her tough side. It’s a scar left from her tough working days in the past. Finally, I changed her hat. Yes I know. Probably people are going to hate me for this and I do like the hat but I always felt it was a little too stereotypical. So I gave her another hat which is often used in farming; a sunhat. I think this looks nice on her as well.

Fluttershy

Yes I made a lot of changes here. I started off just wanting to draw her with braids and flowers and longer legs like her childhood self but then I thought she looked more like a deer. Tbh I prefer her as a deer coz it makes more sense. Deers are very skittish and timid so it makes perfect sense for Fluttershy. I like the little tail puff to coz it’s just so cute. Several people have drawn Fluttershy with flowers in her hair and she has even done it in the show. It makes perfect sense to me for her to have lovely flowers, seeds, twigs and saplings in her hair all the time if she is in nature all the time.

Braids make more sense to me for Fluttershy coz long hair not tied up is going to get in the way and braids take a long time but is relaxing to do. I can imagine Fluttershy just slowly and calmly enjoying making her braids in the morning. I also changed her cutiemark to an animal paw. I have always thought this would make more sense for her cutiemark although I do like the butterflies to don’t get me wrong. I have tried 2 different sets of colours here but really I had many different ideas for different combinations of these colours. What colours would you use? Which of these do you prefer? Let me know Btw she does have wings still but it’s hard to see them behind the braids.

Pinkie

It’s alpaca Pinkie! yeah I just thought it would be more fitting for her to be another animal considering I already did it for Fluttershy. Pinkie is the weird one so it makes sense if she is also a completely different species and not a very common one. Plus alpacas are friendly, like to bounce and fluffy so it’s perfect in my eyes.

She has a buck tooth coz that makes her seem more cute and imperfect which fits her personality. She has very puffy hair coz I kinda hate how Pinkie has those nonsensical curls at the ends when her hair is supposed to be super curly and puffy. Curly puffy hair just doesn’t work that way.

She has confetti stuck in her hair coz I mean puffy hair is hard to clean and she has parties all the time so it makes sense. she also has colourful spots which match the colours of the balloons in her cutiemark. A spotty colourful pattern just makes sense for bubbly party Pinkie.

I actually decided to make her a unicorn to but you can’t see her horn coz she is so fluffy. I mean she is constantly doing weird and magical things so why isn’t she a unicorn?! It also makes sense people would think she is strange coz they can’t see her horn.

Last but not least, I like her cutiemark in the show but why does it have to be 3 separate balloons when balloons are often together anyway? So I grouped them together to make one big cutiemark instead and I think it looks better. What do you think?

Rainbow

I couldn’t do much with this one coz rainbow dash is already perfect. I tried some ideas here tho and I still like the results. It’s good in its own way.

I basically focused on the sporty side of rainbow dash here as you can probably tell. I made her thicker with strong cheek bones like an actual sporty person. I also gave her sweatbands coz of course she should be wearing those if she is doing sports all the time.

I gave her shorter hair coz they get in the way when doing sports and gave her the hair she has in pony life coz it just looks better sorry not sorry.

Anyone else always bothered by the fact her hair has half of it one o half of the colours and the other half the other half of the colours? Originally her hair had red, orange and yellow on top of her head and green, blue and purple on the hair on the back of her head. I just always felt that was weird so I made her tail and head have all the colours instead.

I also thought it was always a missed opportunity with the wings to not have them rainbow feathers like this. I mean why not?! It’s perfect!

I am really happy with her new cutiemark. I kept the rainbow and lightning bolt but made it have a football in instead. She’s into football in equestrian girls so this made sense to me and I love how the design came out. What do you think?

Last but not least I even designed an accessory for her. Of course it’s not fashionable or anything. It’s just a water bottle she carries around with her to make sure she stays hydrated when exercising. Hydration is important!

Rarity

At first I had no idea how to redesign rarity coz she is already pretty dang perfectly designed for her personality. But then I had the idea of making her older and more experienced with life kinda like a fashionista which has had kids or a cougar.

So here she is. She is no longer a unicorn but an earth pony instead. I never thought she needed magic tbh. She still wants to look pretty but her fashion sense is not great and she instead is just wearing bits and bobs of things she likes which don’t go together.

Her hair is shorter as she has less time to clean and maintain it and she wants to show off her accessories more anyway. She had a handbag which is a mixture between nice looking and big so it’s practical to use.

She has purple lipstick (just in case you can’t tell coz it is kinda hard to see). I also tried giving her a different eye colour which I think still looks nice on her and is more fitting of this version of her design.

I also gave her a different cutiemark. I do like her cutiemark but it doesn’t really relate to her love of fashion much and didn’t seem fitting to my design so I made this one for her. It’s a heart which represents her generosity and it wears a hat and and an earring which represents her love of fashion. What do you think? I love this cutiemark design personally.

The accessories are pretty self explanatory but just in case (coz I’m bad at drawing objects -v-') I’m gonna explain some of them. There is a pearl necklace with a nice big green gem. There is a gold bracelet with small red gems in it.

She is wearing earrings which are supposed to be green and blue opals. It was hard to get them to look like opals do with different colours merged together but I think I ended up with a pretty good result. It’s more green and murky than I intended tho. It also was difficult coz of how small it is. Any tips for how to make something look like that?

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nattysgirl · 1 year

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~Secret desire~

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, fingering and oral (w reviving), sex in a church, idk what more to add ¿

Word count: 2k

A/n: So this is my first fic ever! So I apologize for some mistakes that I may have made and also English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there’s some grammatical errors!

That’s all enjoy! Love u all and thanks for u support 🫶

Secret desire

The morning sun filtered through the barred windows of Wanda's small attic room, illuminating her pale and drawn face. She knelt on the hard wooden floor in prayer, rosary beads clutched tightly in her hands. Her slender frame creaked as she bowed her head, brunette hair falling around her face. Despite hours of prayer, Wanda could still feel the sinful heat pooling in her core, an ache she desperately sought to extinguish.

With a sigh, Wanda rose and walked to the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her reflection gazed back at her, wide green eyes full of shame in a delicate face. She was dressed conservatively as always, plaid skirt brushing her knees, white blouse buttoned up to her neck and stockings covering her legs. The chastity belt and bra her parents had locked her in at 13 were uncomfortably tight beneath her clothes, a constant reminder of her wickedness.

The old clock in the hall chimed, signaling it was time for another meeting with the head priest. He was all that stood between her and eternal damnation, his guidance the only thing preventing her from succumbing fully to sin. Wanda entered the empty church, dipping her fingers in the font of holy water and crossing herself before approaching the confessional. Heart pounding, she entered the small booth, kneeling in the darkness. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," she began hesitantly, hoping the torments of her mind and body would find release at last under her priest's absolution.

“And what have you done exactly sister?” Y/n answers curios about Wanda, since she has never sinned before and she was as innocent as an angel ~so she thought~.

Wanda's voice shook as she whispers her confession into the grate, unable to meet Y/n’s gaze directly. "Father, I...I have been struggling with impure thoughts and desires that plague my soul day and night. No matter how hard I pray or seek penance, they persist, filling me with shame and guilt. I fear I am too weak to resist their temptations and may one day fall completely into sin."

Y/n is shocked by Wanda’s confession and with a wicked smile decided to take advantage of this unique opportunity and asks again “And what have been those temptations exactly?”.

Wanda hesitated before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes...sometimes I imagine what it would be like to break free from these restraints and explore my own desires without fear or judgment. To experience physical pleasure without the burden of guilt weighing down my spirit."

Y/n smiles at Wanda’s response and decider to push further “And what do you imagine exactly?”.

Wanda bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggles to maintain composure. "I...I imagine being touched intimately by someone I trust and care for deeply. Feeling their hands on my skin, their lips pressing against mine in a tender kiss. I long for the freedom to express my love openly without fear of condemnation or rejection."

A whimper scapes Y/n’s mouth as she hears Wanda’s confession, intrigued by her she decides to push further “And who’s that person?”.

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat as she considers revealing her secret desire. "It's...it's a friend I've known for some time now, Father. Someone who has shown me kindness and compassion when I needed it most. I can't help but feel drawn to them, despite knowing our relationship is forbidden by our faith."

Y/n new who she was referring to and has to hide a smile that came along with the thought of Wanda thinking of her “And why is it forbidden?”.

Wanda hangs her head in shame, feeling the weight of her sin bearing down on her shoulders. "Because our faith teaches us that all forms of sexual expression are sinful, even within the context of a loving relationship. We are meant to deny ourselves such earthly pleasures and focus solely on our spiritual connection to God."

“I see” Y/n simply responds to Wanda’s confession trying to organize their thoughts about this situation.

Wanda nods solemnly, her eyes cast downwards in submission. "I know it's wrong, father. That's why I've tried so hard to purge these thoughts and desires from my heart. But no matter how hard I pray or fast, they keep coming back, tormenting me relentlessly.

“And what thoughts are they? What is she doing to you in that little minds of yours?” Y/n answers with a hidden smile on her lips, trying to tease Wanda and see how dirty her thoughts are, despite of being a sweet innocent girl.

Wanda’s cheeks flushes a deep red as she confesses her most shameful fantasies. "I...I imagine her touching me intimately, exploring every inch of my body with her hands and mouth. I feel her warmth against my skin, her breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine. I long for her to take me fully, to possess me completely and show me just how much she desires me."

“Mmmh” Y/n hummed as her only thought is the confession that Wanda just made. Y/n stood up from her seat to gets closer to where Wanda is seating.

Wanda looked up at Y/n with pleading eyes, hoping for understanding and forgiveness. "I know these thoughts are wicked and sinful, Y/n. They make me feel dirty and unworthy of God's love. But I can't help but crave the touch of another human being, even if it means damning my soul to hellfire forever."

“I understand Wanda, it’s normal to crave for the touch of someone, even if they the bible says not to” Y/n says sincerely at Wanda and looking down at her with understanding and comforting eyes.

Wanda breaths a sigh of relief, grateful for Y/n’s empathy and support. "Thank you, Y/n. It means so much to me to have someone who doesn't judge me harshly for my weaknesses and failures. Your kindness helps me hold onto hope that one day, with God's grace and mercy, I may find true peace and acceptance within myself."

“Mmhm do you want me to help you with that sister?” Y/n smirks mischievously looking down at Wanda innocent -or not so inocente after all- form.

Wanda’s eyes widens in surprise, unsure of what to make of Y/n’s sudden offer. "W-what do you mean, Y/n?" she asks hesitantly.

“I think you know exactly what I mean sister Wanda” Y/n answers with a smile looking at how Wanda’s cheeks flusters.

Wanda feels her cheeks flush a deep red, embarrassment mixing with curiosity and excitement. "Y-you mean...you could help me explore these desires?" she stammered, uncertain of whether she should accept such an invitation.

Y/n simply nods at Wanda’s question

After a moment of contemplation, Wanda takes a deep breath and nods resolutely. "Very well, Y/n. If you truly believe this is what I need to purge these sinful thoughts from my heart and find inner peace, then I am willing to trust your guidance and experience your touch."

“Good” Y/n answers with a wicked smile at seeing how her plan worked .

Wanda nods silently, taking comfort in Y/n's reassuring words as she slowly began to shed her conservative clothes, revealing her slender frame and delicate curves beneath.

At the same time Y/n strips down until she’s only her bra and panties.

As Y/n stripped down to her bra and panties, Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervousness. She has never been so physically close to another person outside of her family before, let alone a woman she considered a friend and mentor.

“And what do you want me to do now sweetheart?” Y/n asks as she steps closer to her and puts her hand on Wanda’s cheek.

Wanda gazes into Y/n’s eyes, feeling a deep connection forming between them as their bodies drew nearer. "I...I don't know," she admits hesitantly. "This is all very new to me. All I ask is that you guide me through this process with compassion and understanding, and that we remain focused on seeking spiritual enlightenment rather than physical gratification."

Y/n gets on her knees and says with a proud smile on her face “okay then, I must start this session” Y/n pulls Wanda’s panties down and starts kissing her inner thighs.

As Y/n knelt before her, Wanda felt a rush of vulnerability and raw emotions wash over her. Her body responded instinctively to the tender touch of the older woman's lips against her sensitive skin, causing her to gasp softly in surprise and delight.

Y/n smirks at Wanda’s reaction and gets dangerously close to her core.

Wanda bites her lip, trying to maintain control over her rapidly escalating arousal as Y/n teases her with ever-closer approaches to her most intimate areas. The sensations are overwhelming, but she clung to the belief that this is part of a larger spiritual journey towards healing and self-acceptance.

Y/n kisses Wanda’s clit and moans at the taste of her arousal.

Wanda’s entire body shudders with each delicious touch from Y/n’s tongue, her hips bucking involuntarily as waves of pleasure coursed through her system. She lost herself completely in the moment, unable to distinguish between the physical sensations and the profound spiritual awakening that seemed to be unfolding within her soul.

“Mmmh” Y/n holds Wanda’s hips still as she detaches from Wanda’s core just a second to say “don’t be shy baby. I want to hear all of you” .

Despite her initial hesitation, Wanda finds herself growing more comfortable with the intimacy of the situation as Y/n holds her hips firmly in place. The sound of her own moans filling the room served as a powerful testament to the depth of her transformation, a symbol of her emerging confidence and self-acceptance despite the weight of her past.

Y/n sucks at Wanda’s clit harshly and enters two finger without a warning into her arching core.

As Y/n continues to stimulate her with relentless precision, Wanda finds herself reaching new heights of pleasure unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her body shakes violently, her screams echoing throughout the room as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations washing over her like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

“That’s it darling let it all out” Y/n mumbles as she continues liking at Wanda’s clit and curling her fingers into her g-spot to help her ride her orgasm.

Under Y/n's expert guidance, Wanda rides the crest of her orgasm for what feels like an eternity, her body convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her. As the climax finally subsides, she stands there panting heavily, her mind and spirit transformed by the incredible experience they had shared together.

“That’s it darling, you did so well for me” Y/n stood up and kisses Wanda’s lips letting her taste herself on Y/n’s tongue

As Y/n kisses her deeply, Wanda tastes the sweet essence of her own arousal on the older woman's tongue. It is a surreal and indescribable sensation, one that left her feeling both connected and empowered, as if she had truly shed the burden of her past and embraced a newfound sense of self-awareness and acceptance.

“Now darling get dressed and go back to your tasks. I’ll see you next week to continue or little session” Y/n smiles and winks playfully at Wanda flushed state.

With a sense of renewed purpose and determination, Wanda gathers her clothes and makes her way back to the rectory. Despite the lingering effects of her intense orgasm, she knew that she had taken another important step towards healing and growth, both physically and spiritually. As she prepares to return to her duties, she couldn't help but feel grateful for Y/n's guidance and support, which had helped her navigate these treacherous waters with grace and compassion.

a hint of pt.2

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fili-urzudel · 9 months

Note

If you don't mind #9 and #7 with Thorin and Dwalin.

7. Sleeping in a dog pile

9. Forehead touches

I was quite honestly immediately inspired by this one, it was just bridging the gaps between every flash of inspiration I had lol. It felt nice to write something platonic, and I hope that this was close to what you had in mind, or if it wasn't, it's still something you enjoy. <3

Word count: 1.1 k

Warnings: Might getcha in your feels idk, old man dwarf Balin POV

Pebbles - Platonic Balin, Thorin, and Dwalin

Dwalin could hardly keep still, hands fidgeting with the head of the wooden axe Adad had gifted him some months ago. "Will you let us stay up as late as we want?"

"No," Balin answered sternly, still feeling a bit strange, entrusted with all this authority. "You will go to sleep when Amad and Her Highness said you need to go to sleep. And you'll eat your dinner."

"I thought brothers were supposed to be fun."

"I thought sons of the advisor to the king were supposed to be well behaved," Balin said, before ruffling his brother's dark hair. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of braiding it yet, so he decided to leave it all out, and it stuck out quite impressively from his head. "And you can have fun, just be mindful. It's not your house. And be gentle with Dis, she's just a little'un."

"Aye, aye," he waved him off.

The older dwarf hoisted his school bag over his shoulder again before knocking on the door to the common quarters of the royal family. "Come in!" The princess's voice rang through, and Balin took a deep breath as he pulled the door open.

"Dwalin!" Thorin jumped up from whatever it was he was doing at the table to all but tackle his little brother, initiating their special handshake that always ended in a headbutt.

He had taught them it.

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" As he spoke, Frerin and Dis came running up, sticking to either side of him and forcing him to drop his bag of schoolbooks on the floor. "Ah, at least someone cares," he joked, a hand on each of their backs.

"Thank you for showing up early, we're about ready to leave," the princess told him with a genuine smile. She was always so warm. "I know you'll all have so much fun!"

"Not too much," Prince Thrain reminded them.

"Of course not, sir."

"I know you're a good lad, Balin," Thrain reassured him. "I'm sure we'll return to clean plates, clean rugs, clean clothes, and no damaged art, right?" He asked, pointedly turning to his eldest son and his best friend, who seemed to be tuning him out.

"Yes, da."

"Yes, sir!" They said at the same time.

After a round of goodbye and another set of reminders for Thorin and Dwalin, the pair were off, and Balin could get started on his homework. Right?

"Dis, you've got to finish your vegetables," Balin encouraged her, though he knew the words would have irked him when he was her age.

"But I don't like green food," she pouted, blue eyes welling with on-demand tears.

"Thattagirl," Dwalin praised, and Balin shot him a look that had him shrinking in his seat.

"They're good, I prom—Frerin, that had better not be drawing clay," he warned as he saw the pebble nearing the wall with a suspiciously clenched fist. "I may not be your ma but I won't let you color the walls either."

After redirecting Frerin's creative energy to parchment, Balin cleaned up after dinner.

It wasn't much easier after.

"Boys, no wrestling on the furniture," he said exasperatedly, still trying in vain to do his schoolwork at the dinner table. He moved his papers and books haphazardly in his arms to the table in the sitting room, hoping to dissuade them from trying again.

They continued amusing themselves with tasks of varying volume, and Balin was almost done with his essay on the First Age when it went quiet. Too quiet.

"Boys?"

"Quick, pick it up!"

"Why weren't you watching her?"

"She's your sister!"

"She's your sister too!"

"You're older!"

By that point, Balin had made it to the room at the end of the hall—the master bedroom. Someplace none of them should be.

The scene was simple enough to decipher. A vase of some sort lay on the ground, formerly perched on a table that Dis must've walked into and knocked over. Surprisingly, the noise was not enough to make her cry, but enough to make the other pebbles start panicking.

It wasn't a big deal. Honestly, if it was anyone's fault, it was Balin's, something he would readily admit to when the prince and princess returned.

But the pebbles thought they were in big trouble, with enough anxious energy to keep them up all night.

"Why, you little goats!" He roared, and the pebbles perked up almost instantly. "You'd better run!"

Dis shrieked and toddled away, the others in hot pursuit. Balin chased them around tables and the kitchen island, catching them and earning more screams every time they hid behind a bed or chair.

He let them get ahead of him just enough to confer among themselves, and when he caught up, they attacked.

"Get him!" Dis cried in her small voice, and Balin couldn't hide his smile.

Frerin and Thorin each took an arm, and Dwalin bowled them back onto the couch. "My own brother, betraying me!" he shouted, closing his eyes in defeat.

The couch was wide, wide enough for the five of them to spread out as they wished. Dwalin lay on his chest, his untamed hair tickling Balin's chin.

Thorin laid his head on his stomach, his baby sister in his arms and his little brother laid out on his legs.

And finally, they could rest, Balin thought as not-so-quiet snores filled the room.

"Balin?" A small voice asked, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Dwalin's. It had been a while since he sounded so... little.

"Yeah, nadad?"

"I'm sorry for not being better tonight."

"You were just having fun," he assured him. "It's alright."

"Are you sure?"

Balin touched his forehead to his brother's briefly, patting his back. "Yeah. Go to sleep, nadad."

His brother snuggled back up to his side.

He would clean up the vase later. He would tell the prince and princess when they got home and apologize profusely for not watching them more closely.

But right now, it was nice being right where he was.

My, where did time go?

It had been a long time since then, Balin reminisced. A lot had changed. They were charging to recover the mountain he had lived most of his life in. He had a couple hundred more grey hairs, and all the pebbles had full beards now. The ones that were still alive, at least. Dis had pebbles of her own, and they were on the quest.

He wasn't sure, but he did know one thing. It was an absolute fact, actually, as Thorin and Dwalin lay snoring on each arm.

Some things didn't change much at all.

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #balin the dwarf #balin the hobbit #balin lotr #thorin x dwalin platonic #dwalin fundinson #thorin oakenshield #balin fundinson #balin and dwalin #platonic lotr #platonic fanfiction

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stxrmylxve · 2 years

Text

Mr and Mrs Perfect

chap. 1 of a new series…. idk lets try it

NOTES: fem!reader, failed relationship ig, y’all had a kid, angst, he is in bonten w ran

The cool breeze swayed his purpled hair, a sigh emitting from the man’s lips as he looked down at his shoes.

"what am I gonna do..?" he asks himself, looking up to see your smiling figure ahead. He jumped up, running as fast as his legs could take him towards you, but you disappeared as he got to you.

He sighed to himself again, shaking the dread feeling away. It was just another one of his stupid hallucinations again, you were never coming back. He had messed up, enough to blow you right out of his fingertips for good.

You reappeared again, motioning to your stomach with your usual warm smile.

"See? this is ours, our baby." you say, tone full of love as his eyes filled with tears. He fell to his knees as he watched time fly by right in front of his eyes, each day you growing more and more distant.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" your mother yelled, startling him as the memories continued flooding in, "My sweet baby has your kid, and you're going out doing this shit? I want you out! NOW! And NEVER COME BACK!"

The words replayed in his head every day almost, your tears staining the floor as he stared at you in shock. He hated seeing you cry, even more when it was about something he had done. He reached out a hand, pausing and bringing it back to himself with a frown.

"w…we’re done."

Rindou sat up in his bed, beads of sweat coating his forehead as he huffed and puffed. He gripped his chest as he caught his breath, focusing on calming his breathing. He looked over at the clock, the numbers reading '5:49 am' in bright green; no wonder it was so dark. He rubbed his eyes and his hand wandered on the nightstand, gripping his glasses and sliding them onto his face.

He let out an audible sigh as he crawled out of bed, stumbling to the kitchen. The place was a mess; his face needed shaving, and the dishes were beginning to stack up even higher. He ran his hands over the stubble on his face, leaning against the wall as he stared at the front door.

His eyes drifted to his shoes, a soft smile creeping onto his lips as he got up, heading back to his bedroom with a yawn. He crawled back in bed, staring at the clock until 6:04 before allowing sleep to pull him back into his nightmares.

“Morning.” he says, turning up the volume so he could hear your soft rustling of your normal clothes-folding spree.

“hi.” is all you offered, more focused on folding than having a full conversation this early in the morning.

“how are my girls?” rindou asks, making you halt your movements as you glanced over at your sleeping baby girl before turning back to the phone with a small smile. “good, but tired.”

"you don't need to overdo it, hun. You know-"

"Rin, you know you shouldn't call me that now." you interrupt, shielding your phone a bit more so your parents would come wondering who you were talking to.

"I can't call the love of my life a nickname? how rude." he teases, earning a grunt from you as he grins to himself.

”my parents don’t know about.. this. Remember?” you say as you stack all of the clothes on the bed, sitting down on the bed next to them.

“yeah.” is all Rindou offers with a frown as he revs up his car and backs out of the driveway.

“i can tell you’re on the move; no one’s car is that loud in this neighborhood.” you say with a gentle laugh as he chuckles with you with a shrug.

“hey, the car has to fit the person.” he says, glacing over towards your house as he passes it.

Dispite living feet apart, he were banned from your house for good via your parents. This had shattered his heart, but if you wanted a stable family and possible source of a little money when needed, it was better to stay at home on their side.

”i miss you. I miss us.” rindou says, more to himself that directly at you, as he brushed through his hair with his fingers.

You choke up, not sure how to respond to such a heartfelt comment like that. It was new to hear such a dangerous man say something soft like this.

“you messed it up for yourself joining your brother.” is all you offered, barely audible as you looked at the hard wood floors below your feet.

”you knew I was thinking about it, y/n. So don’t-“

“and you knew my parents didn’t want that! You knew they wanted a proper man, and you still went and joined him, you still went and beat people up, your still laundered money. You became the person they feared the most. And you did this to yourself.” you blurt out, done with his pathetic lies as he sat at a stoplight in shock.

He stared at his sterio as if he could see you, staring at it in shock as he sat in traffic. His hands fell to his lap as he sighed, turning into a parking lot and parking before pondering his words. He gazed off, sighing as he recovered his thoughts.

“I did. So what?” he says coldly, now taking his turn to shock you as you now stared at the wall.

”I…I wish I had never met you.” you say, ending the call as your lip quivered on its own. You doubled over, crying all of your tears out at once as your baby began to cry.

You knew it was all a mess, that he wasn’t good for you and your baby, yet something made you come crawling back wanting him again. You still loved him, dispite the fact you had just said you hated him. And the forming streaks in your baby’s hair only showed more symbols of him around the house as you stared at her every time.

You let out a dry laugh as you walk over to the cradle, picking your baby up with a soft smile and a sniff as you bounced her up and down, calming her as she was lulled back to sleep.

Once she was asleep, you set her back down and told your mother you were going out, grabbing your phone and keys and walking out of the door. You too revved up your car just to hear it rumble to life again and rolled it out of the driveway, speeding away to the one place they could be; work.

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st4rry-sh4rkz · 2 years

Text

Modern MMU Headcanons

Ok let’s start with Daisy:

she plays electric guitar but doesn’t rlly tell anybody so when Hazel went over her house she just pulled out an electric guitar, did a kickass riff and Hazel was just like: what.

defo listens to rlly loud thrash music that would break her eardrums

but is also a clairo stan

she relates to class of 2013 on a PERSONAL LEVEL

her style is either light academia or like cottagecore lesbian??

her room is messy but she knows where everything is and refuses to clean it because “it helps her work”

it doesn’t

has posters over every inch of her walls but they don’t make any sense because there will be like an ominous detective poster right next to a saiki k poster

she defo watches saiki k as a comfort anime

refuses to wear AirPods or wire headphones and will only wear a rlly chunky pair of classic headphones

a major procrastinator

wears SO MANY RINGS omfg

is actually a rlly talented artist but doesn’t tell many ppl and Bertie is one of the only ones who knows so he hangs up her drawings in his bedroom

Bertie also def bought her a pride flag to put in her room bc ✨supportive older brother✨

keysmashes (Hazel doesn’t understand them at all)

she became the cool mum friend because she didn’t have a mother figure

but then realised nobody else in the friend group had one either 😭

Hazel nowww:

a bake off stan (I saw it on somebody else’s post idk who)

def got daisy into watching k dramas and now they binge them together

plays piano

listens to romantic music from the 60s-80s

especially Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy by Queen bc it reminds her of Alexander

also a Beatles stan

I think she would either dress comfy and oversized OR be light/dark academia

her room is so clean omfg

she tried to help daisy clean but it didn’t end well

bakes CONSTANTLY

if there is a party in the friend group Hazel WILL be bringing the home cooked food

Pinterest addict (you know I’m right)

is supposed to wear glasses but doesn’t most of the time

her room is just COVERED in bake off merch

prolly started a homework club

but now everyone just goes to hang out

will never swear and hasn’t at all

won’t admit it but is actually rlly good at painting her nails

and everybody in the dorm convinces her to paint theirs

Kitty:

is the girlboss guru of the friend group

does everybody’s winged eyeliner

tries to do group therapy sessions but everybody just ends up venting

she’s GIVING pansexual energy and I can’t explain it

def listens to doja cat and nicki minaj

the kind of person to impulsively dye her hair when something goes wrong

like she’ll walk into the room with neon green hair and everybody will be like OMFG WHATS WRONG DO U NEED A THERAPY SESSION

her style is prolly streetwear

sneaks out all the time

but daisy always catches her and lets her go anyways

her room is messy and she always attempts to clean it and fails miserably

uses slay and girlboss ironically and her and daisy talk fluently in gen z

this confuses Hazel and annoys Lavinia

would rock up to a party in a suit

but the next day wear a dress

gives relationship advice to everybody who will listen

is a sarcastic gay

istg she will have ALL the rainbow merch

she loves reading but doesn’t tell anybody

she usually reads by torchlight but everybody has caught her doing it by now

Beanie:

dyslexic af

when she texts with horrible spelling the others just have to deal with it

the only person in the homework club to actually do work

idk why but she seems like a trans girl???

kitty does her makeup

she def listens to cavetown with alexander

it helps her sleep

her style is probably comfy clothes with cute animals on them and stuff

she also started wearing beanies as a joke but now has a whole collection

attempted to sneak out with kitty but they ended up just lying on the grass watching the stars

relationship goals

unironically uses lol in conversations

the most innocent of the friendgroup

binges Saiki K with daisy while they do each other’s nails

is a cat person and wants to own at least 4 in the future

has a rlly neat room to everybody’s surprise

but it turns out she invites Hazel over regularly to help her clean it and so they can watch bake off together

she knows about daisy being rlly good at art so sometimes they go over each other’s house and just draw the whole time

is terrified of dogs

Lavinia:

allergic to cats

it’s an inside joke that she starts pretending to sneeze when near kitty

paints her nails black

pretends to listen to rlly loud rock music and will blast it in the room

but secretly listens to the Beatles with Hazel because it helps her sleep

plays the drums (this is a FACT)

tried to make a band with daisy and Hazel and Alexander

it didn’t work out

her style is prolly streetwear and she wears SO MANY NECKLACES

her rooms messy af but nobody’s been over her house cuz they know about her family issues

watches demon slayer

Hazel is terrified of her cuz she thinks that it’s way too gory

this is one of the reasons why she watches it

she actually has a soft spot for little kids

and decided to become a babysitter but instantly regretted it

sneaks George into the dorms CONSTANTLY

the girls aren’t surprised anymore when they wake up and Lavinia and George are sitting cross legged on the floor debating communism

this is a regular thing

worked at Starbucks but is rlly bad at customer service

Swears SO MUCH and Hazel is just like:

“LANGUAGE!”

ok so now Alexander:

trans boy?? I think so

he def struggled with toxic masculinity but George and Hazel and kitty helped him out

now he paints his nails with Lavinia n Hazel

started listening to Taylor swift as a joke but now is lowkey obsessed and debates with George about the best era (obviously reputation)

also listens to cavetown w beanie

his style is def oversized jumpers and dark academia

Hazel also helps him clean his room so it’s usually neat af

he has cavetown posters everywhere

I mean EVERYWHERE

his comfort song is This is Home

him and George helped the girls write a petition to start the Deepdean GSA

it was successful

him and Hazel spend so much time planning their life together it’s rlly wholesome

the girls have heard it so much they are willing to disagree

he plays bass guitar and was in the band (he also sang alongside daisy)

they broke up cuz he argued w Daisy SO MUCH

he wears contacts most of the time but Hazel thinks he looks cute w glasses so he’s started wearing them more often

He enjoys scrapbooking but nobody knows except Hazel

George:

plays the trumpet

only to annoy Lavinia because whenever he sees her he’ll start playing Careless Whisper

is a major Taylor Swift stan

he thinks reputation is the best era AND HE IS RIGHT

didn’t want to be a part of the band because he already knew how it was gonna end

a master at sneaking into the girls dorm

or so he says (he actually just wakes everybody up)

his style is just whatever he’s feeling at the moment which leads to some questionable fashion choices

he’s the kind of guy to wear a nirvana band shirt and then when asked if he can name songs (he’s a major nirvana fan) he’ll start naming ac/dc songs just to piss ppl off

he says he won’t get political and then starts ranting about the corrupt government

it doesn’t help that Lavinia encourages him

Amina:

actually enjoys baking and will go over hazels house to bake stuff w her

because daisy is a terrible chef

her style is rlly confusing cuz she’ll dress fem one day and then be masc the next

her and daisy need to get a room, according to the ENTIRE FRIEND GROUP

listens to girl in red unironically

also sneaks into the girls dorm room

it’s just normal in there to wake up and Amina, George and Alexander will already be there

she plays acoustic guitar but just doesn’t tell anybody except daisy n Hazel

actually a rlly talented singer

her room is so tidy but nothing makes sense

she keeps rats as pets especially the ones w red eyes

this terrifies daisy (and everybody else) on so many levels

also wears SO MANY RINGS

her and kitty are rlly good friends

even if she’s also allergic to cats

She doodles on herself when she’s bored and started drawing daisies up her arms

She is def a theatre kid

OK RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS CUZ I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL:

Daisy & Amina:

They go to feminist marches and pride parades together

they sneak out together ALL THE TIME

they have cute lil picnics in the flower fields n they make daisy chains together

Amina’s big spoon (you know I’m right)

daisy tried to teach her gf how to dance but they ended up just falling over each other in a pile of laughter

Amina calls daisy flowergirl as a pet name

the others place bets on how many times flowergirl is gonna be said

Kitty always wins

they’ve been to a girl in red concert together

Bertie was def the first person to know they were dating

they do each other’s makeup

they decorated the dorm rooftop with fairy lights and blankets so they could sneak out there and fall asleep under the stars

they always know exactly what to get each other for valentines

so daisy and Amina both individually give advice to the other couples

except daisy charges money 😭

They braid each other’s hair and doodle on each other when they’re bored

Hazel and Alexander:

Hazel constantly steals Alexander’s jumpers

they have a scrapbook together

Alexander worked as a florist for a short period of time and sent Hazel flowers everyday with poems

They always try to outdo daisy and Amina in couples competitions

daisy and Amina always win tho cuz they’re super competitive

they insist on going into photo booths together whenever possible so they can get pics for the scrapbook

Alexander is big spoon obv

They adopted a cat together but still can’t decide on the name

daisy thinks they should name it after her

they’re def not doing that

Hazel bakes cakes every year for her bfs birthday

Daisy attempted to do it for Amina one year but miserably failed

Alexander tries to carry Hazel but almost drop her every time

They have rlly complex secret handshakes

Kitty and Beanie:

Beanie used to go to Kitty for relationship advice even tho it was Kitty she was crushing on

the first time they kissed was when beanie was in the middle of confessing to her

Beanie has night terrors and trouble sleeping so Kitty sings to help her fall asleep

they didn’t have to tell anybody they were dating

they just randomly started kissing each other and nobody questioned it

Kitty’s big spoon

Lavinia did start wondering why Kitty stopped sleeping in her own bed and would wake up in Beanies

she never asked tho

They go on shopping sprees together

Kitty def does beanies makeup and teaches her how to do rlly intricate hair styles

George and Lavinia:

Lavinia gets a lot of shit for dating a non white man obvs

they get through it tho

they stay up rlly late debating their existence in the universe and politics

This annoys everybody except Hazel and Alexander who think it’s pretty cute

When Lavinia worked at Starbucks George would order a drink everybody but she would make sure to pronounce his name wrong every time

“Can… Jorge? … collect his order please?”

George loved her for that

They’re annoying at road trips cuz if you pass them the aux you better prepare for horrible renditions of Taylor swift songs

They once turned up to the school dance with George wearing a dress and Lavinia wearing a suit

they enjoy breaking gender norms cuz who doesn’t

they paint each other’s nails

George leaves random post it notes for Lavinia to find when he stays over at the dorm

If the other girls or Alexander find them they get so confused

Alexander would find one and be like:

“George why are you confessing your love to me? I have a girlfriend??”

“Ohhhh this is for Lavinia. Got it.”

OK THATS IT :)

#mmu #daisy wells #hazel wong #murder most unladylike #headcanon #amina el magrahbi #beanie martineau #kitty freebody #lavinia #george mukherjee #modern headcanons

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Note

prommmmpt! i’ve read aaron finding out that emily’s stolen his [shirt, hoodie, socks, etc], but i want it flipped! maybe, emily had originally stolen something of aaron’s, but when she had to go to paris, it got left behind and now aaron’s stolen it back. but like, in the saddest way. she finds it under the covers or something because he just missed her. is this too corny?? is it because i just read Linger and i’m DYING over it?? idk whatever, this was just in my head and now it’s here, whatever. whatever!

Heyyyyy bestie. Sorry this took so long, but I think you'll like it!

A gift from me to you to help with the Sunday Scaries.

This could be read as a follow-up to Linger, or on its own.

-x-

Interwoven

A dark green sweater helps bring Emily and Aaron a little bit closer back together after her return from Paris.

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron turns as he hears his bedroom door open, smiling at the sight of his girlfriend as she walks towards him, stretching her arms over her head. They’d just showered together and he’d left her to get changed. He smirks when he sees what she’s wearing - a dark green cable knit sweater that belonged to him over her pyjama shirt. It was big on her, the material cuffed around her wrists so the sleeves didn’t engulf her hands, and it stopped high up on her thighs, skimming the material of her soft leggings.

“Is that my sweater?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her as she joins him on the couch. His arm wraps around her shoulders, the soft material of the sweater rubbing against his skin.

“Yes,” she replies, smiling up at him, “Your apartment is cold.”

He playfully rolls his eyes at her before kissing her temple and pulling her impossibly closer, his hand running up and down her arm. It was something they’d bickered about on and off ever since they got together. He ran hot and she ran cold, often meaning they would have different views on what the thermostat should be set at. The upside was, as far as Aaron saw it, she always slept up against him, curled in his embrace as even in sleep she sought him out.

“Sweetheart, I think you’d be cold anywhere, no matter what.”

Emily chuckles and tilts her head to look up at him. Her beauty was undeniable. He’d noticed it even when he was still married to someone else. He’d look back on it now, those tense first few weeks she was on the team and desperately trying to prove herself, and realise that was what had fuelled much of his frustration towards her. This undeniable pull, an attraction he hated himself for then as the foundations of his marriage started to rumble beneath him, the walls crumbling, that he didn’t understand.

She’d always been beautiful to him, but this was different. She had no make-up on, so the fine lines around her eyes when she smiled were more noticeable. Her hair was still damp from their shared shower, its natural wave curling at her shoulders. Here in his apartment, cosy and pliant in his arms, wearing his clothes, she’d never seemed more beautiful.

“Mother would agree with you,” Emily says, smiling at a memory, one of the few from her childhood she could look back on with happiness, “No matter where we lived I was always cold,” she explains, settling further into his side, “It used to drive her crazy.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head again, “I’ll keep you warm.”

“I should hope so, you are my own personal furnace,” she says, pressing her lips to his.

“And yet you still steal my clothes.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes his hair off of his forehead, smiling at him, “It smells like you, and it keeps me warm when you aren’t here.”

“I’ll always be here,” he says without thinking, the words escaping before he realises what he’s said, and she beams at him, leaning in to kiss him again.

“I’ll always be here too.”

She names the sweater as hers from then on. She started keeping it in the drawer of her belongings at his place and then brought it with her on cases when they went to colder states. He started seeing it at hers too, the dark green wool it was made of complimenting her eyes in the exact same way Haley had told him it did for him when she bought it. It was a strange connection, one that Emily knew about, but one that he liked. That one woman he loved had bought it, and the other wore it. Their love for him stitched together not unlike the sweater itself.

He forgets about it until after he’s buried her. A grave he knows is empty symbolising everything he’d lost, even if it was only temporary as he hoped.

He gets home after the funeral, words of sympathy from his friends and team that he can’t take still reverberating around his head, and he finds himself doing laundry just to do something. That’s when he finds it, in amongst her clothes that were tangled up with his and Jack’s in the laundry hamper.

He doesn’t wash it, he can’t bring himself to get rid of the remnants of her on it. The smell of her perfume along with something that was so uniquely Emily it briefly makes his heart stop. A small stain on the front of the sweater where she’d spilt something on herself, a tiny bit of clumsiness he remembers making fun of her for.

He puts it away in his bedside cabinet, hides it away from view just like he did with her, only taking it out to look at it, laying it on the pillow that was hers, when missing her felt like it could kill him.

___

In some ways, it feels like she was never away. Aaron and Jack welcome her back into their home like no time had passed, like that last good morning she remembered when they all had breakfast together before she realised Ian was after her. And by extension, them.

It’s unavoidable in other ways. The ones she expected, the ways she’d prepared herself for the whole time she was in Paris. How the team look at her, relief and distrust in equal measure as they watch her every move. How Aaron looks at her like she might disappear again, barely sleeping some nights as he holds her close as if he’s worried if he falls asleep he’d wake up and she’d be gone.

It’s the changes she hadn’t expected, the small things she hadn’t thought about, that she struggles with the most. Like how Jack’s obsession with dinosaurs had switched to one about sharks, the boy now wanting to spend all of his time at the aquarium instead of the museum. How JJ and Penelope had changed which bar they preferred for girls' nights, the offers there were apparently better than where they used to go.

Or how Aaron had switched the laundry detergent he used because Jack had developed an allergy to the old one.

She sighs as she folds up clothes, separating them into piles for her, Aaron and Jack as she goes. She turns around and looks at Jack who is sitting watching her.

“You don’t have to sit there sweetie,” she says, smiling softly at him, “You finished your homework, you can go play your game if you want.”

“I like spending time with you,” he replies, and she feels her heart swell, her smile getting wider.

“I like spending time with you too,” she says as she continues to fold clothes.

“I’m glad you moved in,” he says, “It means we can spend even more time together.”

It had been ease, more than anything, that had led to her moving in. It was something she and Aaron had discussed before she had to go to Paris, long conversations as they lay tangled in bed about the pros and cons of each of their places and where would be the best place to merge their lives. Her old place was sold when everyone thought she was dead, solving that part of the debate for them. She’d been hesitant when he’d first suggested she moved in rather than find somewhere else, aware that there was so much for them to discuss, to work through to get to where they’d been before. But she relented, knowing that above anything else she had spent enough time away from him.

“Me too, sweetie.”

“You’re not going to go on any more secret missions are you?” Jack asks, and she freezes for a moment. It’s what Aaron had told Jack about her disappearance, a lie that allowed him to avoid telling his son another woman he loved had died.

“No, Jack,” she replies, hoping he doesn’t see the shake to her smile, the familiar guilt burning at her insides, “No more secret missions.”

They fall into silence and she continues her task, briefly checking her watch to see the time. Aaron had stayed later at the office than her, caught up in budget meetings she knew he’d rather avoid.

“Emily,” Jack asks, and she turns to look at him, smiling at the unrelenting questioning of a child that was endlessly curious, any previous concern she’d seen on his face nowhere to be found, “Is being a grown-up boring?”

She chuckles, turning back to folding up the freshly cleaned laundry, “Why do you ask, honey?”

“You and Dad are always doing laundry,” he exclaims, “Laundry is boring.”

“You’re not wrong there,” she replies, she smiles at him, “Your Dad will be home any minute, how about I put this away and you go play your game for a little bit? And when he gets here we’ll all go out for pizza. Pizza is never boring.”

Jack beams at her, and jumps out of his seat, closing the gap behind them as he wraps his arms around her briefly before running off to his room. She watches him go, smiling as she does so. Her love for him enough that she knows there is no way she could love him more.

She finishes folding the laundry and carries hers and Aaron’s to their room. She puts hers away before moving to his, something so incredible to her in the domesticity of it. Simple day-to-day tasks that sometimes blew her away, the very nature of them making them part of what she had once convinced herself she would never have.

A family. People who loved her unconditionally.

She idly opens the bottom drawer of his nightstand to put his socks away when she freezes, her eyes landing on dark green wool. She stares for a moment before she reaches for it, sitting on Aaron’s side of the bed as she picks it up, the familiar feel of the sweater in her hands enough to make her heart skip a beat. She places it in her lap, her fingers running over the small stain on the front of it, a sign that Aaron hadn’t washed it since she last wore it. She closes her eyes, blowing out a steady breath at the thought of him pulling it out of the laundry hamper and carefully putting away. Keeping a part of her with him.

She sits there, her thumb running back and forth over the soft material until she hears the front door open and close, followed by his familiar footsteps getting louder as he walks towards the bedroom.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, “Sorry that took longer than I thought…”

He drifts off, and she looks up at him and sees he’s staring at the sweater in her lap, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t snooping,” she explains, smiling tightly at him, “I was just putting away your socks.”

He shakes his head, a silent acknowledgement that he would never have considered she was going through his things.

“It’s not like I was hiding it,” he says, sitting next to her on the bed, “I meant to put it back when you came back but…”

“I get it,” she replies, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “You didn’t wash it.”

“It smelt like you,” he says, offering her a half smile, “It hasn’t for a while now.”

She nods in response, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “It was cold in Paris,” she says, not missing the flash of a smile across his face, “Obviously it wasn’t actually cold. I was there for the summer, and it’s so…humid in the city. But I was so cold,” she looks down at the sweater in her lap, at his hand over hers, “Especially at night. I missed it,” she says, tightening her hold on the sweater, “I missed you.”

Aaron leans in and kisses her forehead, “I missed you too.”

She rests her head on his shoulder, taking the comfort he always so easily gave her. He wraps his arm around her to pull her closer as they fall into contemplative silence. She lifts her head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry for what I put you through,” she says, pulling back to look at him, her eyes shining, “Every time I think we’ve figured it out-”

“We have figured it out, sweetheart,” he assures her, cupping her cheek, not missing how her eyebrows raise slightly, “Ok, we have most of it figured out,” he smiles at her, “Everything else will fall into place.”

She hums, “You sound so sure.”

“I’m sure that I love you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument, “And that when you were gone I spent every day promising myself that I wouldn’t waste any time when I got you back.”

“I love you too,” she replies, leaning forward to kiss him, “I love you so much.”

He smiles at her when she pulls back, “Maybe we should throw the sweater out,” he says, his eyebrows creasing as he looks down on it, “I think that stain is pretty set in now anyway.”

She chuckles slightly, shaking her head at him, “It was red wine honey, I think it was over for this sweater the second I spilt it.”

“We should have thrown white wine on it,” he says, echoing the very thing he had said the night she spilt wine on herself. She rolls her eyes playfully at him.

“How many times do I have to tell you that's bulls-”

“Can we go for pizza now?” Jack says, arriving at their open bedroom door, cutting Emily off from finishing her sentence.

Aaron looks over at his son before looking back at his girlfriend, “Pizza?”

She scrunches her nose up at him slightly, hiding her smile, “I kind of promised we’d go for pizza when you got home.”

Aaron smiles as he stands up, offering her a hand to provide unnecessary help as she stands too, the sweater falling to the bed. He guides Emily to the door who then in turn wraps her arm around Jack.

“Pizza it is,” Aaron says, knowing he could never say no to either of them.

Two days later she comes home from a shopping trip with Penelope with a new sweater for him, identical right down to the colour.

She immediately takes it from him after he’s thanked her and slips it over her head before he can even wear it himself. She winks at him as she walks further into the apartment, a mischievous smile on her face as she goes.

He follows her, which he knows was her intention, catching up before she makes it to their bedroom by placing his hands on her hips, pulling her back to him in a way that makes her laugh. The sound loud and bright, echoing around the apartment as he kisses her neck.

“I thought this was my sweater?” He asks, nipping at her skin as she reaches back to run her fingers through his hair.

“It’s our sweater.”

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotch x prentiss

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mosylufanfic · 2 years

Note

Awkward first meeting themed #7. Rebelcaptain.

“You found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life”

Initially I thought of this as a modern AU, but this canon possibility occurred and it tickled me pink.

Need a Hand?

"Well, kriff," Jyn muttered to herself.

Her fingers were starting to hurt. The wind snatched at her clothes and whipped her hair around her head.

She didn't need to turn her head to know how far down it was. She'd overestimated that damn ledge was what she'd done. The window had popped open, taking her by surprise, and her foot had slipped right off. It was a miracle she'd caught herself. No thanks to the cheap-ass rope she'd paid too much for, which had snapped the second she fell.

No rope, and she didn't have any purchase for her feet except flat wall no matter how she flailed her legs. Her fingers really hurt now, and the wind was chilling them almost numb. When they did go numb, down she'd go.

"Hello?"

She went tense all over - well. Tenser.

"Who's out there?"

She thought frantically. Absolutely no non-criminal reason for clinging to the wall ten stories up, right outside a general's personal office, occurred to her.

A head popped out of the open window. Dark hair caught by the wind, razor-sharp beard and mustache. Kind of cute. For a fucking Imperial. Because she could see the ugly olive-green uniform with all its rigidly straight lines.

Just her luck that not only had she miscalculated the ledge and gotten a piece of shit rope, she'd gotten bad intel on the office's schedule. According to that, everyone was supposed to be out all afternoon, but clearly they were not.

Damn. She was dead.

Although she was dead if her hands slipped.

Either way, it didn't look good.

He looked down and spotted her. His brows furrowed. "Hi," he said after a moment.

HI? What happened to blustery bellows? You there! What do you think you're up to? Guards! Guards!!

None of that. Weird.

"Hi," she said, because it had been a good fifteen seconds since he'd greeted her, and he was looking like he had more questions for every one of those..

"Can I help you?" he said.

Another shocker. "Me? Nah. I'm fine."

"Mmm. Yes. You look fine." He reached down. "It makes me nervous. Have pity."

Saw would have told her to dramatically reject his offered help and fling herself to the winds. But Saw wasn't here, was he? He'd fucking abandoned her on Tamsye Prime last year. So whatever he would have done, she'd do the opposite. See how he liked that.

"Oh, well, if you insist," she said, and felt his warm hands clamp over her wrists. She went tense again.

"Grab onto my wrists," he said. "Then you can get your feet braced."

Gripping his wrists as tightly as her chilled fingers would permit, she anchored her feet to the side of the building, leaning back. A sudden fear that she'd pull them both over froze her intestines, but he simply leaned back in his turn, counterbalancing her as she walked up the side of the building until she could get one leg over the windowsill and tumble into the room.

Ground! Solid ground. She could kiss it.

That's if this Imperial here didn't shoot her. Although he could have let her fall, so -

"Thanks," she said, flexing her aching fingers and then tucking her hands into her armpits to warm them up. They tingled as they thawed.

"No trouble," he said, scrupulously polite.

He wasn't the general. She'd studied too many holos of the man, red-faced and smug in front of all his valuables, to make that mistake. But he must be some kind of lackey or factotum or assistant, and as such, he was almost as dangerous.

And yes, damn it, it wasn't adrenaline-based horniness. He was cute. And young - not more than ten years her senior if she had to guess. Maybe as little as five. But literal scum of the earth could be good-looking, she supposed, and everyone had to be young once.

He looked her up and down. "Do your parents know where you are?"

Her teeth snapped together. She hoped it looked like a petulant teen's annoyance instead of her instinctive rage every time someone made her think of Galen Erso. "Of course they do." She emphasized her Core accent as much as she could, hoping to transform herself into a silly, bored high society teenager.

He made a skeptical noise. "What were you doing out there, anyway?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "You know. Taking the air."

"Taking," he said. "The air."

"Mmmhmmm." She flexed her fingers again and smoothed her wind-whipped hair back. "Very refreshing. All the rage. You know us young people. It's quite the fad these days. Hanging out on window ledges ten stories up."

"Dangerous fad," he said, moving back in front of the desk and frowning at what looked like a datapad.

"Well, that's what makes it fun. The possibility of falling to your splattery death." Since his attention was diverted, she sidled up next to a set of shelves and swiped a tiny gold statue from behind several others, where it would be least missed.

"Not to mention the possibility of somebody thinking you might be trying to rob a place."

Her fingers convulsed around an ugly crystal swan that would fetch at least five hundred credits with her favorite fence. "I mean," she said as the swan's wings cut into her palms. "There's that."

She tucked her hand behind her back and gently dropped the swan into her bag. Then she curled her fingers around the tiny blaster she had tucked into an inside pocket. Would it shoot through her bag?

He tapped something on his pad. "You're going to tell me that makes it more fun, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "Although you lose the game, so - uh, can I ask a question?"

"You can ask."

"Why are you trying to break into your boss's desk?"

At that, he did look up. "Now, what makes you think that?"

"That lock cracker you're holding." She gestured.

His eyes flickered. For a moment, she thought, He's dangerous.

And not in the way that Imperials were usually dangerous, with the weight of power behind their bullying. But dangerous in that he could take care of her, and then her body, in about twenty seconds, and go back to breaking into that desk without a thought.

Then he smiled. "Why do you think?"

She let out her breath.

She'd always heard that the Imperial brass spent all their time backstabbing and climbing over each other, but it was a surprise to find actual espionage going on. Well, hell, maybe they'd blame him for the missing trinkets. Seemed like the kind of petty thing an Imperial would do.

It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't exactly answered her question. But she didn't pursue it, and she let go of the blaster.

Since her hand was free, she swiped a tiny box, positioned front and center of the trinket shelf, that would feed her for a month.

"You know," he said, back to frowning at the cracker, "that's all chump change on that shelf there. You want the real stuff, check the top shelf."

She looked up. The top shelf was well above six feet off the ground. Easy for him. Doable for her if she climbed. But she felt like she'd had enough of climbing for the day.

She considered him. He hissed through his teeth as the lock resisted yet another attempt.

"Give me that cracker," she said. "You get me something off the top shelf. We'll call it even."

He gave her a long look, then handed it over and went to the shelf, reaching up.

"Nope," she called out. "Too distinctive." She'd never shift it. "Not that one. Yeah. Yeah, that one." The lock clicked loudly. "Okay, you're in."

"That was fast," he remarked, handing her a vase that looked about six hundred years old and tucking the lock cracker into some inner pocket.

"I'm good," she said, wrapping the vase and the swan in a length of padded cloth she'd packed for just that purpose.

She watched him spray his hands with something that looked an awful lot like the sealing spray she had on her own fingertips. So you wouldn't leave fingerprints behind.

He pulled paperwork out, riffled through it, found what he was looking for, and scanned it with a wand from his pocket. He dropped all the flimsi carelessly on the floor, including the one he'd scanned, and pulled out another drawer to do the same.

"Oh, do you want this?" he asked.

She accepted the jewelry box and found it held a pair of incredibly ugly earrings, jammed with gems and filigree. "Nice," she said. She could pop the stones and melt down the settings. "Gaudy. But good quality. General's a bit of a glitter hound, is he?"

"Oh, they're not for him," he said, pursing his lips over another piece of flimsi. "They're for his eighteen-year-old step-niece who visits dear old Step-Uncle an awful lot lately."

That was only a year older than her. "Gross," she said. "If you know that already, why are you breaking in instead of blackmailing him?"

"I could," he allowed. "But it lacks poetry. Finesse."

"Plausible deniability?"

"That too." He tossed more flimsi to the floor.

"You're going to blame me for this, aren't you?" She watched him, narrow-eyed. Easy enough for him to help her now, then sound the alarm when he'd got what he wanted, and get all the recognition of having caught a burglar. Her fingers inched toward the little blaster again.

"Absolutely," he said, scanning yet another paper. "Or rather, everyone else is going to blame the mysterious robber who vanished without a trace. And you're going to be far enough away in a short enough amount of time that you won't care."

She relaxed. He could be lying. But she didn't think so. "No. I won't care."

He checked the last two drawers, dumped them for good measure, and got to his feet. "Going out the same way you came in?"

"That was the plan. But I'm open to suggestions." She watched curiously as he selected an apparently random holo from a display ledge, then swept the rest to the floor in a mess of shattering glass and short-circuiting electronics.

"General's private elevator," he said, waving a hand at the blank wall with a panel set about elbow-height. "Goes all the way down or all the way up. Your choice."

"Don't those have cameras? Records?"

"Not if you're using the step-niece's personal code," he said. She was somehow unsurprised to see him punching it in and the door zipping open.

She peered in, noting the camera in the top corner and that its light was off. She scraped her hair over her face anyway before stepping in. "You coming?"

"Oh, I have my own way out," he said. "Don't worry about me."

"I wasn't."

He handed her the picture he held. "The frame should fetch you a nice price."

"Thanks for the help," she said, selecting the button that would take her to the bottom-most parking level.

"Don't mention it," he said. "Really. Ever."

As the elevator plunged downward, she studied the picture he'd given her. It was a bog-standard office holo, everyone standing stiffly, fake smiles plastered over bared teeth. At the back of the group, half-hidden by someone's shoulder and head, was a patch of dark hair and a bearded cheek that might have been the man who'd been searching the office she'd just left.

"Hmmm," she murmured, and deleted the picture.

What a weird heist that had been.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #pre-movie meeting #Jyn is about 17 so not Rebel Rising compliant #star wars

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judgementdaysunshine · 2 years

Note

Hiii again! I just wanted to do one more ship if that’s alright!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN BTW!! 🌲 + Marvel fandom and LOTR fandom (idk if you write for Sherlock Holmes fandom, but if you do, Sherlock Holmes fandom, too) (male character preference) + I’m a 30 year old queer woman (she/they) who is Graysexual and Biromantic. I’m 5’1” with a peaches and cream complexion, dark green eyes (tho my right eye has a blue film over it due to blindness), long dark brown hair, and an almost hourglass figure. I’m a Hufflepuff! I’m compassionate, stubborn, get frustrated easily, silly, happy, cute, passionate, have OCD, Dyscalculia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and I’m Autistic. I studied general studies in school (I switched majors a few times). I’m ethnically an Ashkenazi Jew and was raised both religiously Roman Catholic and Jewish. I am trying to be more religiously Jewish. I love animals a lot. I love reading (especially history, romance, myths/lore, anything about Judaism/being Jewish, and fiction), botany, space, cats, my faith, playing games, dancing, singing, traveling, and naps. When I get frustrated/upset or despondent, I tend to belittle myself and think that whatever is wrong is my fault even when it is not.

Anything for you my sweets 👉👈

First I ship you with Bruce Banner! 💚

He knew what it was like to be anxious and not wanting to be around people so anytime you were anxious he would take you in his or your room getting away from everyone

He always calms you down when you're frustrated telling you that it was okay to have these feelings and would stay with you even when you'd just stared at the wall despondent because of it

He loves how your eyes were different from everyone's you eyes reminding him of space with all the stars floating and a milky way just floating within an Andromeda planet making him just stare and smile

He had known many people of different cultures including middle eastern heritage so when he found out you were Jewish he soon learned and amazing jewish meals plus learning Hebrew and customs making you fall in love with the man even more

He always loved seeing your hair down but whenever you had it in some type of braid it made his heart swoon telling you that to him the braids brought out more of your features and the beautiful complexion of your skin

He always stops you when you're bashing yourself telling you all the things he loved about you and what made him fall head over heels for you from. The moment the two of you met

Your body was like a temple to him full of beauty making him go in awe every time he sees and touches anywhere on your body always showing you how much he loves you

Now I ship you with Arwen Undomiel 🤍

She can never not love the complexion of your skin having never seen anyone with your skin tone alot or ever with sparkles shining in her eyes

She will always tell you how beautiful you are and how much of an angel you were in her life and how you helped more than you could ever know whenever you are letting your self hate get to you

Anytime she sees your body she will trace her fingers all over feeling the smooth and softness of your skin and kissing any spot she wants to show extra love and care to

She always did your hair in beautiful styles that brought out your face and eyes always making sure to have a small strand hanging on each side

She always sings elvish music to you when you're anxious always telling you the story after singing when you're much calmer

Your tattoos always made her smile that you had permanent art on your body even getting one of the even star on her upper chest where it was covered under most clothing but when it was showing you were the only one to see it in it's beauty and glory

She will just hold you with one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head in your hair when you are depressed always hugging her tightly

She knows people of many cultures and races asking you questions and researching with things you bring to Rivendell to teach her more of things in the world she didn't know including the Jewish religion and culture

She soon learned all of Jewish customs,when and how to celebrate holidays for Jewish people,making and trying meals from the culture making her smile in bliss and joy after taking the first bite,learning to speak Hebrew and read the bible,and wearing traditional Jewish clothing when you would bring extras for her to try and keep

#marvel #bruce banner x reader #lord of the rings x reader #arwen undomiel x reader #lord of the rings #judgementdaysunshine's birthday celebration

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empty-tunacan · 2 years

Text

Icarus by The Crave Wives but I stick my little blorbos onto it… animatic idea ok.. let’s go let’s go

To provide a little background this animatic is about Remus & Roman growing up directly after the split to the start of a better relationship as adults.

And to fit into the lyrics + I think it might be cool, neither boy shows traits of being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ at first- they still both just look like creativity but now split! Remus’ traits show more because they’re more drastic than Romans.

Also thomas mind being split between light and dark was a choice made by the sides but like I think that’s common fannon anyway so, yeah ^_^! The rest of the plot will be explained as we go kind of.. you’ll figure it out

ANIMATIC START

Intro music

Idk regular intro stuff & then it cuts to present Roman & remus’ faces on the edges of the screen (half of their faces on each edge of the screen)

Climb ye higher and higher and higher

Little baby remus right after the split (maybe like.. 7? idk he was young). He is climbing a dead tree on his side of the imagination!

'Til you're far away and breathing cleaner air

Roman is in his side of the imagination, tying a cord around a blossoming tree. He is not very distinctly different from remus, except maybe a neater appearance and lighter clothes.

Oh my brother, my brother, my brother

Remus goes down a zipline, crashing into Roman & they tumble down!

Who have you become in the wake

The background becomes a lighter yellow as Roman is laughing, & some small freckles form on his Face

of all that’s happened here?

Remus’ hair falls infront of his face slightly, getting his hair even messier as a fang is clearly visible in his smile … they are becoming more different woah… crazy…

They're burning down the orchard to the soil

To the soil, to the grave

Patton & Janus are arguing. I don’t rlly have a lot envisioned for this they are just both being annoying cunts.

Spreading out the ashes of a love

The beginnings of the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ area are forming as patron and Janus continue to argue.

This is probably only happening in a metaphorical sense cause as I said before I think it would have to be a deliberate choice for it to be made, or they would have to like rlly rlly be hating and not confronting the issue and it would be made anyway but I think they would just get over it and be like ‘ermm.. u gotta go 💔’

That only gave and gave

A shot of the door to the imagination, half on a wall of light and half on a wall of shadows. (The door is … FUCK I CANT MAKE IT ORANGE CAUSE ORANGE SIDE EXISYS NOW… ok the door is pink with red and green accents.. I GUESS ☹️)

Short instrumental - Roman and Remus Timelapse of growing up into teens! They become more different but they are always matching in some way.. hehe :)

Climb ye higher, and higher, and higher

The lights & darks are walking through the imagination, which also has gotten more complex as time has gone by.. oh and like the other sides also all have probably had outfit changes too but who cares it’s Roman and remus’ shine time not theirs. L!!!!

There's no room for all the hearts who will not stay

Outside shot of the door again, which is now literally cracking as the light and dark on the walls are now REAL!!! Ruh roh ☹️

Oh my brother, - Roman and Remus like talking or smth

my brother, - Remus notices them come over the hill.

my brother - They quickly pick up the crown.

The horses are running,

They try to run

The horses are running away

They are each grabbed :(((

Our hands are pulling everything apart

Roman and Remus are both being pulled away, but holding on to creativity’s crown in a desperate attempt to stay together.

Fall apart, falling back

The crown breaks, they are separated.. how could they do this to my boys 😭😭

Tell yourself there's no more need to lie

Roman is crying, pulling on Patton who is saying this line. They (light sides) are walking away. Logan don’t rlly give a damn I guess… bestie is vibing #not his problem

We don't have time for that

Virgil is literally having to fucking hold Remus back with like shadow magic (he has it here cause it’s cool for the scene and I make the rules!!). Janus says this line towards Remus, trying to block his vision of Roman and the others leaving.

Short instrumental - They leave the imagination cryinf ☹️☹️☹️

Then it’s a shot of Roman & Remus door next to eachtoehr, then remus’ having a background of darkness, then it being gone entirely.

It's okay, it's okay

Roman is saying this to himself as he walks through the imagination. He is holding the half pieces of the crown.

My love will fall with grace

Remus shows up, saying this line as he is like.. idk hanging in a tree or smth above him.

Short instrumental - Roman attacks the branch that Remus is on, making Remus actually fall. He then runs, hiding the half of his crown. Remus ofc fuckin chases him.

Climb ye higher, and higher, and higher

They are climbing up their old and mostly destroyed castle in some abandoned part of the imagination

Leave our footprints to be lost along the ground

Remus’ feet are continuing to be shown along with footprints of their younger selves.

Oh my brother, - Remus is saying this, in a mostly lighthearted tone.

my brother, - he bumps into Roman, who he didn’t even notice wasn’t moving back away from him like he usually is

my brother - Remus looks down (L short Roman)

There is nothing left to bring me back down

Roman says this, and can now be seen crying holding the half of the crown

Remus hugs him in the short space between the next verse btw.. cause

Spreading out our ashes in the sun

In the sun, in the sun

It cuts to them both holding a half of the crown, sititng ontop of the broken castle.

Spreading out our ashes in the sun

In the sun, in the sun

The camera pans out to a wider shot where you can see the like.. “ghost” of younger Roman and Remus plahing on the ground infront of the castle

And it ends!!!!

I would usually not make an animatic idea about smth platonic to a romantic song but like..

1.) this can very easily be implied not romantic.. IT LITERALLY SAYS BROTHERS IN THE KYRIXS

2.) everybody made never love an anchor which was a familial song romantic so like.. I can do the opposite idgaf..

3.) this idea wouldn’t leave my brain.. so like yeah. Rip this song is forever about Roman and Remus idc idc idc idc! Familial love baby…

#HEHEH 🤭

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beansprean · 2 years

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My fav thing about the classic flowershop / tattoo parlor au is assigning the objectively wrong roles for no reason other than my own enjoyment. ID under cut!

[ID: 1. Full body of a modern flowershop / tattoo parlor au with Stede and Ed. They are standing together in the wall space between their shops, meeting for the first time. Stede’s shop on the left says “tattoo” in large red letters on the window as well as a sign with their hours. Inside there is a small piercing display. Ed’s shop on the right has “flowers” in blue lettering on the window as well as the beginnings of a phone number with area code 246. Inside there is a tiered display of various types of flowers including sunflowers, roses, lilies, and carnations. Stede has three studs in his ear and snake bite hoops in his lip and is wearing a dark gray blouse with frilly sleeves, a purple waistcoat with silver detailings, a silver pocket square, a cravat pinned with a large purple jewel, and black trousers. He has several rings on each hand and black nails and is holding a cardboard box labeled “gauges.” He turns with pleasant surprise to look at Ed, smiles, and says “Oh!! Hello!” Ed, on a smoke break, just stares at him with pink-cheeked surprise in response. He has his long hair up in a bun and is wearing blue jeans and a pink tee shirt over a pale green apron with “Queen Anne’s” stitched on the breast. In his left hand is a lit cigarette, and the right is in his apron pocket fumbling with a red cloth. All his usual tattoos (save for the eagle on his chest and the marae on his wrist) are now floral designs, including a long leafy vine winding down his right arm, several pink carnations and falling petals, palm leaves on his left bicep, and a patch of sunflowers on his left shoulder and neck.

2. A new day, Stede now in a blue waistcoat with embroidered fleur-de-lis and light blue blouse and cravat and Ed with his hair half up in a bun, wearing a red tee shirt, apron, and brown gardening gloves. Stede is leaning toward him looking excited, declaring, “Lilac?? I would love to design that for you!” Ed, leaning back and looking flustered as he blushes and avoids eye contact, flexes his hands at his side and laughs nervously. “Uh, haha, really? Idk if my artist would like that.” To the side, we see a small drawing of a sullen Izzy with large gauges and a vee neck shirt, holding a buzzing tattoo pen. Text next to him in parentheses reads “current artist.”

3a. The same day; Ed sitting on a tattoo chair with his left arm extended while Stede, wearing nitrile gloves, doodles a lilac branch onto the blank spot on his forearm with a tattoo pen. Ed, staring at Stede shyly but warmly from the corner of his eye, offers a small smile and says, “You’re always so covered up, I’ve never even seen any of your tattoos.” Stede, smiling absently as he works on Ed’s tattoo, responds, “Oh! I don’t have any.”

3b. Ed whips his head toward Stede in shock, forgetting his shy attempt at flirting in favor of gaping openly at him. Stede, none the wiser, continues to draw and hum to himself.

3c. Close up of Ed’s face from the previous panel zoomed in, hearts popping up in his eyes and cheeks going a dark red. Text next to him reads “you are so fucking fascinating”

/end ID]

#OFMD #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #mlm #flowershop tattoo au #modern au #my art #fanart #our flag means death #image described

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Text

cruel, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, previous taehyung x reader

summary: It's cruel, this feeling. How are you supposed to respond to loss of someone that was so perfect, someone that turned life into a romance movie, someone that now had that with someone else? You watch him be happy without you and you should have lied and said that you were happy too. Instead, you told him he was cruel.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; honestly, it's probably not what you think it is; fluff? idk; smut (fem reader, penetrative sex, cowgirl, fingering and f-receiving oral in a dressing room, a lot of making out and staring into each other's eyes); non-idol!AU; long-haired, rapper / music producer!Yoongi, ft ex-boyfriend Kim Taehyung being handsome and perfect

now playing – cruel by the veronicas

How do you know you’re supposed to be with someone?

I always knew when I was with you.

You answered it with such certainty then. Like you really knew. Like he was the light to your dark. Like he was the life to your death. You had made him smile with your words, his unique smile lit up by the harsh rays of the sun, softening the edges of his box-like grin. He was so beautiful then. Striking. Picturesque.

No word was good enough.

You toyed with the vintage teacup. A delicate white with the painting of a green and yellow bird on a sparse, winding branch. The saucer matched. All soft edges and curves. English porcelain. He gifted it to you after returning from one of his many Europe trips.

You tipped the cup onto the edge, holding the handle.

He became more handsome without you.

You relaxed your hand, letting the base of the cup tinker back onto the saucer.

You thought about throwing it into the wall. Shatter that little shit like how it was shattered between you and him. Turn it into shards that matched the slices of light that they used in all those photoshoots, highlighting all his angles, because all angles were good angles for Kim Taehyung.

You stood up.

Placed the teacup back into the glass cabinet and pushed it to the back, behind an orange glass-blown vase.

I always liked you.

Me too.

You closed the cabinet and took a step back.

There was a pair of scissors on the dining room table.

But now I love you.

He had whispered it over candles and linen napkins, in expensive clothes and low light, with dried flowers in his hand and a black velvet box in the other. A solitaire, sparkling diamond on a dainty chain. Dried flowers so you could keep them forever, just like what you two had.

You picked up the scissors. The blades were very sharp. Silver, gleaming in the overhead light. You saw the reflection of the modern, industrial black chandelier in the flat side of the scissors. He wouldn’t like it. Taehyung was much more into the romantic.

You imagined cutting those glossy, long locks off that stunning model he was dating now.

Snip, snip.

You opened and closed the scissors, listening to the egregious friction of metal against metal.

She was really pretty. They suited each other.

You suited him too, back then.

Just not anymore.

Hello. Nice to see you.

That was what he said after everything. Months after, because he had been traveling from fashion week to photoshoot, to who-the-fuck-knows-what. Always busy, that Kim Taehyung.

It’s not that nice to see you.

Those moody dark brown eyes had faltered then, looking away. He treated you like he barely knew you. From hand-in-hand to a stranger in a strange land. You should have lied. You should have put on your best, most dazzling smile and told him that it was great to see him. Show him how fucking fantastic you were doing without him.

Instead, you tilted your head and cocked an eyebrow.

He had lowered his head and looked back up at you with a wan smile.

I treasure all of our memories. I hope one day, you can too.

You had paused.

That was when you knew that you couldn’t be lovers, but even worse, you couldn’t even be friends.

You’re cruel.

That was all you said before you bowed politely and walked away, letting him return to the confused, doll-like face of his new forever, the place you used to stand, the space in his heart you used to occupy. You used to wonder what wedding dress he would like to see you in. Probably white, with floor-length lace and an obscenely long train. Close-fitted to show off your body. Dramatically simple extra-long tulle veil to cover your entire body as you floated down the aisle, holding a waterfalling floral bundle that bordered on ridiculous, but it was all part of the dream.

Taehyung, standing at the end, looking crisp and statuesque compared to your ethereal beauty.

You had looked back to see him tucking a spare strand behind his new girlfriend’s ear and lightly kissing her glowing cheek. He was so handsome like that, with his dark long curls half-swept back and in a relaxed rich brown suit with a low-necked beige shirt underneath.

You had snapped your head away, feeling like you had intruded on a beautiful moment.

As if you witnessing it had somehow made it ugly.

Hey, are you okay?

I’m fine.

In your dining room, you opened the scissors and turned them in your hand so the exposed blades were between your thumb and index.

Stabbed downward.

Dragged it across.

The clear tape on the cardboard box split, a grating hollow sound following. You lifted your hand and closed the scissors, placing them back on your dining room table. Opened the box, finding brown paper packaging.

You used to love Kim Taehyung.

Now everyone was telling you to unlove him.

You reached into the carboard box, but then you stopped. Bit your lip. In your head, Taehyung was grinning at you, dragging you through the park, summertime sun gleaming off the green grass like the scene of a movie. Every day was a movie with Kim Taehyung, with excellent cinematography and hazy lighting reminiscent of old films, a romance for the ages.

The brown paper crumpled in your hand, harsh points digging into your palm.

You used to love the love between you and Kim Taehyung.

You looked down.

Black velvet.

A box.

For a ring.

You opened it.

A silver skull surrounded by a snake.

You took it out and slipped it onto your left middle finger.

The taste of skin.

Right there, on the edge of your tongue. You kissed to the sound of dead leaves falling, held on to the drumbeat of rain, tangled yourself in warm scent during the rapidly cooling nights. Fingertips sliding up your arm, closing in around your elbow, pulling you closer. Close was never close enough. Intense never intense enough. Harder. A waterfall of black softness, shadow. Lips right there, dark from kisses.

Your eyes finding him.

His gaze already on you, open-mouthed smirk bordering on good-natured.

He leaned in, shrouding you in the black waves of his long hair that had become messy and fucked up from your hands.

“Lift your hips.”

So deep.

You gasped. Almost painful was the right amount of pleasure, digging your nails into his sheets and following his rhythm, closing your eyes and letting the sensations take over, breathless with effort, muscles wrung tight with tension, hot and soft and wet and tightening your core, ticking your head back, the taste of Min Yoongi’s skin on the edge of your tongue.

You stood in his bathroom after, putting your silver ring back on your left middle finger, making sure the face of the skull was facing you.

You reflection looked back at you but there wasn’t much to see.

You ran a hand through your hair and decided that was good enough with the casualness of your oversized hoodie. Your straight-leg jeans were somewhere. All black. That was all you wore these days. Everything as black as you could get it, so black that the fabric seemed to suck all light from everything around it.

You turned the light off and went back to Yoongi’s bedroom.

“Are you doing something on Saturday?”

“Why.”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, coming from your mouth.

“Gonna take you to a concert.”

“My interest in frolicking with the masses is lower than your voice,” you replied dryly, picking up the edge of the blanket and sliding under. The owner of the bed was laying down in it, holding his phone with one hand. He did not drop it even as you settled in.

“My voice isn’t that low.”

“Lower than your interest in frolicking in the masses, then.”

He tutted and turned his phone towards you. “That band you were talking about earlier is holding a concert near my place. Saturday, at seven. I like to arrive early, so swing by a couple hours earlier and we’ll grab dinner before going.”

You glanced at him.

At bored, cat-like eyes and fair skin that barely saw the sun, complete with dark circles that explained why.

“You don’t like rock bands.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “And why do you think that?”

You shrugged. “You like hip-hop.”

He chuckled and set a hand behind his head, looking amused. “I’m a rapper, but I create all genres of music. I started with classical piano. I’ve even made tracks for idol groups.” He ticked his head, looking down at you even though he was below you. “Don’t put me in a box.”

You looked down at his phone screen, away from his face.

Date and time.

The picture of the band, smiling and harmonious.

Silence.

“I thought you weren’t listening,” you finally said.

“Of course, I’m listening. You were talking about your interests and music is my life. Why the fuck wouldn’t I listen?”

Your line of sight raised and you stared into Yoongi’s eyes.

He looked back at you, slight frown on his lips.

You didn’t say anything more.

They were even better live than you thought. It was strange, focusing on nothing but the music and the performance. You were glad you attended the concert because a week after a few members of the band announced their departure for military service. You owned a few of their albums and set them out to display on your dresser, placing your printed-out ticket next to it.

A memory.

Now, you were sitting on another person’s bed.

Yoongi was holding your left hand, turning it in his.

“It’s cool.”

Your knee was resting against his.

He let go of your hand.

You stared out his bedroom window, thinking about how the leaves were really turning brown now, falling in blankets that were either crunchy or soggy underfoot depending on the quality of the sky that day. He lived more in the city, out of necessity. Easier to make connections when he was in the vicinity, especially when convenience was the determining factor on whether or not Yoongi wanted the inconvenience of human interaction.

There was a park nearby, but he rarely went.

“You bought it,” you said.

“Mhm.”

That was kind of how conversations went between you and Yoongi.

It was mostly your fault.

You turned your head to the left to face him.

Yoongi barely angled his face to glance at you questioningly.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because you showed it to me. I liked it.” He chuckled, looking down at your silver ring of a skull anchored by a snake. Almost sheepish. Still relaxed though. Always relaxed. Calm and collected, that Min Yoongi. “You are the kind of person who is meant to be yourself.”

Your hand rested onto your thigh.

“What does that mean?”

Those dark brown eyes raised, piercing and cat-like. You had a feeling it wasn’t going to answer. That was how conversations went between you and Yoongi, a back and forth of subtext and eye contact, and then the real questions being asked. Eventually.

“Why did you break up with Taehyung?” that deep, raspy voice asked you.

Hey, are you okay?

I’m fine.

Well, I’m getting out of here. Come on.

You stared at him, at pale-faced Min Yoongi framed by long black hair that cascaded down the left side of his face, a face of refined features that seemed delicate and yet his demeanor was anything but. Chilling sometimes, unbothered most times, observant all of the time.

“I was getting sick of the constant travelling,” you finally answered.

Yoongi raised a dark eyebrow.

You want to get a drink?

I don’t drink.

Then how do you get through a shit time? Sulking?

Fuck off, Yoongi.

He nodded, turning away to look out of his bedroom window.

“Hm.”

It was a very dismissive, hm. It made the moment weird, as if it would be suddenly inappropriate to crawl into his lap and make out with him, which was kind of the whole point of you being here.

Kind of.

You chewed at nothing in the back of your teeth and breathed out.

There was no difference, no matter what questions he asked. Or what he said. Or didn’t say. It just was what it was and nothing more. What was the point of talking about it? There was nothing to talk about. You had sat in a bar with Yoongi as he ordered a drink and drank it while you sat there and brooded in your head. He didn’t even pay attention to you. Had his phone in his hand and sipped his whiskey. The sounds of the bar were all meshing together, music, laughing, conversations, closeness.

You had turned to face him.

Yoongi had looked up from his phone.

The party you had both attended was for a mutual friend. You hadn’t wanted to go, but they were celebrating their engagement and you figured you should at least deliver a congratulations in person. At least some damn flowers. You hadn’t expected to see Taehyung at that hour but, unlike you, he had probably been there the entire time. You had only stopped by for a few minutes. Work and shit. Yoongi had only stopped by for maybe half an hour.

Your knee had been touching his at the bar, your chairs too close.

The sounds of the bar were all meshing together, but you barely heard it. There was a solidness against your knee, and then a fluidity as you leaned in, wanting to see his reaction.

Stopped.

He smelled a little bit like alcohol, but mostly like sharp, fresh cologne.

Yoongi hadn’t moved.

He was just watching you.

“You think I’m pathetic, huh?” you whispered, looking into his eyes.

His head tilted, something intense in his calm gaze.

“Pathetic people don’t think about kissing me,” Yoongi replied.

You searched the ocean within those dark brown orbs, almost black in the shadows of your faces.

“I’m not thinking about it.”

That was what you said.

His lips had curved into an open-mouthed smirk and you had closed the distance.

And now.

Why did you break up with Taehyung?

You could stand up and walk away without saying a word. You could. He wasn’t even looking at you now. You didn’t have to look into his eyes before walking away. Tick. Tock. You breathed in. His scent was everywhere, sharp and fresh. This was his place, lit up orange by golden hour, fiery in the way the sun’s rays caught onto the white duvet and then snuffed out by the black accents and dark wood of the furniture. He said his dad basically ended up picking out most of the pieces. His dad told him his future wife would enjoy this kind of style.

You liked the black-on-black look of Yoongi’s studio more.

Especially the dark gray rug read, KEEP OFF.

You meant to ask him where he got it but, till this day, you hesitated.

You looked away from his things and told Yoongi the truth.

“I broke up with Taehyung because I was beginning to think that I loved the way he loved me more than him actually loving me.”

You stared out of his bedroom window, but instead of seeing skyscrapers and an urban jungle, you saw a hazy scene of a park and summertime sadness. Everything was picture perfect. Nothing out of place. Nothing but the way you felt, the festering feeling of something being wrong about this scene but how could it be wrong when it was so right, when it was just like a movie, you and Kim Taehyung?

“I didn’t want to admit that maybe I fucked up and picked the wrong guy when the guy was perfect.”

Flowers and candlelit dinners.

“He’s not that perfect,” came the raspy murmur beside you.

You still had that diamond necklace.

“He’s perfect for someone.”

“Not you.”

You turned your head and faced Yoongi.

“How do you know?”

He turned his head and faced you.

“I don’t.”

He ticked his chin down to the bed and then flickered his gaze back up.

“Pathetic people don’t think about fucking me, though.”

You stared at him.

“You’re cruel.”

Yoongi smirked, his black hair casting shadows over his eyes and cheek.

“We all are, sometimes.”

I bet you could be cruel if you wanted to.

Your hands on his wrists, gripping tight. Nails into skin.

Why would I want to?

Devouring kisses. His tongue was so strong. You had to fight it. Suck on it and abuse it and he was smiling under your venomous mouth. You shoved his wrists into his own pillow, forcefully, driving your hips down at the same time, abruptly releasing Yoongi’s tongue and hissing right into his mouth, not letting him escape your hot breath.

Life is about balance, you know.

Slow roll of your lower body and you let go of his wrists, sliding your fingertips up his palm and tracing his fingers, inhaling his shuddering exhale. There was no good word to describe his scent. Not his cologne, but him. Not quite warm, for his hands were usually cold. Soft in comparison to the sharp angles of his chin and cheekbones. Comforting for some reason despite his usually distant, cold expression.

Your hands were always warm.

You kept your demeanor razor-sharp, pricking anyone that tried to get too close.

You felt the calluses on the pads of his fingers.

You opened your eyes.

Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and teasing.

You lifted your head and slid your hands off his, onto the pillows, and then the angle was better, more fulfilling and intense, easier to clench around him and drive his hard cock in deeper, almost in pain but not quite, harder, clawing your nails into his pillows, looking down at him, watching his eyes close and his lustful sigh escape him, smile on his face, not hiding his pleasure, unafraid.

You tilted your head.

Tightened your jaw and all around him.

Fucked him into his bed until you were breathless.

And kept going, anchoring your knees into the mattress, your hands curling into fists and punching into the soft pillows, so focused at each arcing wave of pleasure that you could feel it move through you, the vicious high prickling through your veins and making your muscles scream, crushing tension threatening to push you over the brink, his low moan catching your ear and you looked up, your messy hair covering half of your face.

His own hair was a chaos of black waves that rose as Yoongi lifted his head, lashes lowered, breathing out your name like hot smoke.

Ghost of a sly smile on his seductive lips.

“You get sexier every time we fuck.”

Maybe he was mocking you, but you stared into his eyes and it didn’t feel like that at all.

You sucked in a sharp breath, the dryness of your throat stinging you.

The drop.

It hit you too hard and too fast, stamping the air out of your lungs and leaving you on the edge of ecstasy, your head snapping back and eyes squeezing shut, seeing nothing and feeling everything, throbbing rush of orgasm torrenting through your ribcage and all around him, rigid and hard and alive, and then you heard Yoongi hiss, the immediate fwump of his head hitting the pillow and his wanton moan, his hands shooting up to your hips and digging his fingers into them, pinning you down to his jerking length.

Roughness, harshness, opening your eyes to see Yoongi breathing out, shuddering at the high.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Hard.

“It’s infuriating how handsome your orgasm face is,” you panted.

Yoongi didn’t open his eyes.

His just chuckled, dark and low.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Seven billion plus people on this earth,” Yoongi hummed as he sliced the pork belly. “And you want me to believe only one person out there is the one for me?” His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged.

He ticked his head, pocketing a small scoff in his cheek. “The likelihood of meeting said person is extremely low, not to mention in some cases downright impossible for some due to the cost of travel. What if your soulmate lives across the world? How will be even know without travelling there? And then there’s the cultural, societal, and personal biases that interfere with the very nature of soulmates, for how can you have an open mind about other human beings when you’re too busy being shallow and trying to mold others into an impossible ideal?”

He glanced at you, setting the knife down.

You pushed the bowl of thick-grained sea salt towards him.

Silence.

“You believe?” he asked softly.

You shook your head.

“No.”

His fingers picked up the salt and he rubbed it into the meat generously.

“It’s fine if you do.”

You half-smiled. “I don’t. I think soulmates are an idea created by greedy companies to push society towards heedless consumption of various services to perfect oneself but then those same companies create a paradox by constantly changing the idea of perfection. It’s an endless hamster wheel, and the concept of soulmates is only one spoke of many. And, anyway, isn't the idea of soulmates simply a response to the fear of the unknown? A certainty created by the human condition to console that fear. Someone to believe in. And, as we all know, at the center of believe is a lie.”

More silence.

Yoongi slowly nodded, pensive.

“Then arranged marriage or matchmaking in the previous generation is better?”

“I don’t really believe external influences should have much impact on someone that you are vowing to be committed to.”

“We have responsibilities as sons or daughters, though.”

He turned and washed his hands, body no longer facing you. The profile of a chef. He was good with the knife and he knew how to prep the meat. Practiced and calm.

“My dad told me I should just focus on being happy over anything else.”

Yoongi smiled, pouring oil into the deep pan. “He’s right.”

“He also said I fucked up big when I broke up with Taehyung and that no one will ever love me again.”

“Ah. He was trying to make you feel better.”

You both waited. Minutes passed. The meat was lifted with metal tongs and then placed into the scorching hot oil, gradually searing the outside to a golden brown before Yoongi would eventually remove it and place it onto the grated oven sheet to bake and become crispy pork belly.

“Love dads. They’re great,” you commented dryly.

The head of long hair turned, dark waves wisping over fair-skinned cheekbones and a half-smile.

“You’re not happy right now?”

In an oversized cream t-shirt and black sweatpants, holding a pair of tongs, meat sizzling and popping below Min Yoongi’s amused grin and dark brown orbs that sparkled knowingly.

You felt something.

A little twist of the knife right to the heart. It came and it went, swift and jarring, but you were sure that it was there. Certain that you experienced it, even though there was no evidence left behind.

You stared back.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” was your answer.

Yoongi turned back to the meat, turning it. “It’s a useful skill to have. I should at least know how to make your favorite food.” He shrugged. “Crispy pork belly is easy anyway.”

“I can make it on my own.”

“You might like mine more.”

“I haven’t eaten yours.”

“Hence the events transpiring right here, right now.”

It was pretty good.

You hadn’t made your own recently, so you told him you would have to get back to him of whether or not you liked his more. He said that was fine. His playful smile was a little suspicious though.

You walked past the glass cabinet in your dining room.

You were holding scissors.

Paused.

Opened it and reached to the back, turning the teacup so the bird graphic was visible behind the orange glass blown vase. Pulled your hand back and looked at it. The whole thing, all kinds of delicate trinkets inside the clear glass, various gifts from various points in your life.

History.

You closed the door and went back to your bedroom to cut the tag off so you could get dressed.

“What do you look like when you want to seduce someone?”

You blinked slowly. “What?”

“What,” Min Yoongi repeated calmly, tucking his hands into his black trouser pockets. “Do you look like when you want to seduce someone?”

“What does that have to do with wedding guest attire?”

“Nothing really. I’m just curious.”

You were also wearing black slacks, high-waisted unlike Yoongi’s, and paired with a white crop top and charcoal gray denim jacket two sizes too big. A different vibe compared to his red plaid shirt over a branded white t-shirt. Him, sneakers. You, thick-soled black boots with a zipper down the side so you could get out of them easily when trying on dresses for that wedding you weren’t originally going to until Yoongi mentioned that he needed assistance in picking out clothes since he didn’t really have anything for the same wedding he was also invited to.

You looked over the racks, seeing a black, figure-hugging minidress with extremely thin straps and a mesh overlay.

“Something like that. Simple black heels. With a longline blazer over it, possibly with statement lapels, unique fabric, or some other standout aspect about it.”

Those dark, cat-like eyes went from the dress to you.

“I’ve never seen you wear something like that. Not even when Taehyung brought you around.”

You thought you would feel a sting of pain hearing his name, but, nothing.

“That kind of style would contrast too much with his.”

“So?”

“He is the model.”

Yoongi blinked slowly, staring at you until you felt uncomfortable.

“That dress with the jacket and boots you’re wearing now.”

He ticked his head.

“It’d look good.”

You looked back, holding his gaze for several seconds.

Then you went over to the rack and picked up the black dress.

His eyes told you, see, I told you it would look good.

Yoongi didn’t say anything because he shouldn’t be in the dressing room with you and he most certainly shouldn’t be sliding his hands up your thighs and leaning in to kiss you. Remarkably silent, like two shadows conversing, your bodies meshed into each other, tongue to tongue, breathing into his mouth as his nails dragged across your ass, bunching up the black dress from barely covering you ass to no longer covering it.

You concluded that you should at least buy it after if you were about to defile it like this.

Yoongi slid his tongue into your mouth and smiled against your lips as you sucked on it, hard.

Turned his hand and slid it between your legs, his shoulder pinning your body into the wall, the mirror behind him reflecting his back and part of your face shrouded by his long black hair.

“What?”

“Come in with me.”

Raised eyebrows. “Hah?”

“Are you scared you’ll be too loud and give us away, Yoongi?”

Narrowed eyes, taking on your challenge.

So far, so good. The loudest noise was his fingers sliding into your wet pussy and going in and out.

Your gaze flickered from the mirror to his face, warning him.

He switched tactics and rubbed your clit instead.

You let go of his tongue and clenched your teeth, the buckling weight of sensitivity threatening, but he stifled any sound you could have made with his lips. Darkness, your eyes squeezed shut, tensing up at the constant, steady rubbing. It would have been unbearable if Yoongi started with too fast of a pace, but he didn’t, slowly building the inescapable pressure into shivering pleasure, his other hand against the wall to anchor your bodies, your breath getting thin, your hips moving with his hand, the dress that you hadn’t purchased yet scrunched up at your waist, slickness clinging to your inner thighs, sweet scent of sex rising between you and him.

He exhaled into your mouth, hot and hazy.

Following his fingers, intensifying the rhythm with your hips pushing back against his strength.

Silent moan into his throat, your eyes opening slightly and his too, connected under the shadow of lashes.

Closer.

The music in the store was very loud but you heard nothing, only the quiet labored breathing between you and Yoongi, strands of his hair brushing against your cheek, electricity stinging over your skin, pleasure and excitement.

Your head tipped back and his followed.

Your eyes closed again.

His lips leaving yours, and yet no sound leaving your throat, your resolve caging it all in.

“Cum for me,” he whispered under his breath, barely audible.

You bit your lip and sucked in a tight breath, tension from jaw to thighs, and then your hips bucked against his insistent fingers, legs shaking and gripping his wrist, the wicked flinch of orgasm radiating through you and followed by rough, rippling pulses, cum sliding down your inner thighs and his hand.

Mute bliss.

The dressing room was pretty small.

Yoongi let your ride the throbbing high until you stilled.

Then he kneeled down and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, hot tongue to hotter wetness, and your hand automatically grabbed his head, sinking your fingers into his soft hair, chewing on your lip to avoid making any noise as he licked you off and you rode his face.

You pushed those black waves back, looking down.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, cocky expression solely in his eyes.

You bought the dress.

The initial mission was not completed, but the executive decision was made to not give a fuck.

“You don’t like this kind of stuff?”

For the first time, those cat-like eyes faltered and glanced down at the intricately plated steak placed on a specialty cutting board with a raw edge, accompanied by a wine glass, well-designed silverware, pale gray linen napkins and white sateen Egyptian cotton tablecloth.

He hesitated, which was very unlike Min Yoongi.

Then he looked up and didn’t answer your question.

“I’m not Kim Taehyung and I will never be.”

Over candlelight, you gazed back at him.

“I know. That’s why I was the one to invite you to this restaurant instead of you bringing me here.”

Yoongi tilted his head, and he was very much himself once more. Discerning, reading your body language, taking in the details of your outfit. The longline blazer with the black satin lapels and red brocade. Your hair swept to the side. Striking smoked-out eye makeup with red stained lips. Silver ring of a skull and a snake on your left middle finger.

Tiny, tight, black minidress with a mesh overlay underneath.

“I heard you have expensive taste,” you hummed.

His chin ticked downward and a flash of sheepishness came and went through his expression.

“Calling me out, huh.”

“You can have whatever you want if you’re ambitious enough.”

Those eyes darted to yours and he smiled.

That smile meant something.

As if it was asking you, are you?

“I will admit, these restaurants modelled after Western high class is slightly pretentious,” he commented, keeping his tone light.

“It’s accurate, then.”

And now Yoongi laughed.

Not loud, because he never laughed loudly. A little raspy, as if he was not used to it, almost exasperated but amused at the same time, the kind of laugh that made his cheekbones puff up and his eyes crinkle, flash of pink gums and white teeth in his smile.

You smiled back.

You thought it would feel weird, but mostly it felt right.

You wondered if you would count the seconds, minutes, days, months.

You wondered if it would feel weird.

You wondered if you had made a mistake.

You stood in your dining room, leaning against the table, thinking about it. The songs he used to play for you, you didn’t listen to anymore. The parks you used to frequent with him, you didn’t visit anymore. The flowers you both used to stop and appreciate, you walked past now, ignoring them.

You used to stare at Taehyung for hours, because he was so beautiful.

And now you even didn’t think of him until you walked in this room.

You raised your head.

In front of you the glass cabinet, and your reflection.

It would have been more romantic if you were wretched, maybe. In a large t-shirt you had taken from him, with tears down your face, glittering in the overhead light, slowly sinking to floor, into the shadows of your dining table and chairs, and, in your windows, twilight slipping into the darkness of night as you thought of him.

Instead, it was a cloudy afternoon and you were wearing a black velvet shirtdress with a waist tie and Min Yoongi’s borrowed leather jacket that you used last time when you came home late.

You wondered if you were supposed to have a longer period of mourning.

You wondered.

You wondered if you were supposed to lurk Taehyung’s Instagram to see what he was up to lately.

You reached up and opened the glass cabinet.

Pulled the teacup forward so it was visible, in front of the orange glass-blown vase. The small bird and the leaves gleaming against white porcelain, reminding you of Yoongi’s skin after he showered, droplets clinging to his cheekbone and jaw, his wet black hair pushed back as he leaned in, smile on his lips when they touched yours.

You felt guilty for not feeling strongly about it all.

That was strange, wasn’t it? Wasn’t there supposed to be a moment when you were looking back fondly on the memories, reminiscing about that past romance, that first love that you were sure of now? You knew people treasured those moments. Not just in movies, but in real life too. You heard the stories of friends lamenting beside you, daydreaming about what it was like back then, even those in complete and fulfilling relationships.

Drunk on nostalgia.

You adjusted the teacup so it was perfectly in the center of the saucer.

There it was, displayed at the center of the cabinet.

Expensive, beautiful, and unused.

Forgotten until you saw it again.

You closed the door.

“What are you watching?” Yoongi asked as he approached.

You were standing at the bus stop, waiting for him. You plucked out one of your earbuds.

“UFC.”

He blinked slowly. “Hah?”

“You mentioned it the other day and I was reminded that it’s been a while since I’ve kept up with it.” You pocketed your electronics, sliding them into your bag and zipping it shut. “I watched all the high profile matches when I was in high school.”

His eyebrows raised. “Your parents paid for pay-per-view?”

“I knew my way around the internet.”

He snickered. “Tsk tsk.”

“Come on. This is our bus.”

You held his hand.

You felt his head shift. He looked down and then up. Silence, except for the sounds of the street, the loud chatter of patrons, and the sizzle of hot oil inside the street stall. Orders were being called out in a firm, clear voice. Kids laughed and crowded around, small hands grasping paper cups and long sticks of rice cake and sausage drenched in savory red sauce.

You held Min Yoongi’s cold hand and warmed it with yours, waiting patiently.

“I used to come here as a kid,” you chuckled. “With my friends, counting up our allowance, and then annoying the cashier with too many coins.” You pointed across the street. “There used to be an arcade there, facing the market. I bet the workers got tired of wiping up after our sticky hands.”

He squeezed your hand.

Your heartbeat fluttered in your chest.

You turned your head and saw Yoongi glancing over to where you gestured.

He was smiling, somewhat ruefully and in agreement.

“Back in the day, huh.”

“What, were you one of those cram school kids?”

His head turned and the cool breeze caught the edges of his black hair, curling it against his cheek, his stark profile contrasting the grey sky and dead leaves scattered on worn asphalt, wearing a black bomber jacket with white dragons on it, dark grey sweatshirt under, black slacks, and monochrome sneakers.

Yoongi gave you a look, raised eyebrow and pursed lips, wordlessly asking, are you serious?

“No, I was playing basketball and making music instead of doing homework.”

You hummed. “Can safely say your hobbies became more indicative of your future than mine. All of my arcade tricks of jiggling the controls have not become applicable skills for adulthood.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked, almost innocently.

Almost.

You narrowed your eyes at him and the employee called your name, letting you know your deep-fried swirly potato-on-a-stick was ready.

His long hair was getting all over his face.

“Why didn’t you wear a beanie?”

Yoongi shrugged.

“You like when my hair gets messy.”

You dragged his hair over his face and sank your fingers into it, thrusting your hips up and tipping your head back, shocking pleasure rippling through your tense muscles, succumbing to the intoxicating high, breathing out, hot exhale and smoldering lust.

Yoongi clenched the right side of his jaw and stared down at you, the tendons on his neck standing out.

He was trying to resist it.

Your tongue slowly traced your open lips, ending with a smirk.

His torso shivered against your thighs, pushing his hips forward, deeper, wet and tight and pulsing, all around, suffocating salient sensation that drove him insane, or at least he looked the part, harder, his hair cascading down over his eyes and his cheeks, open mouth, heavy pants, following the rhythm of your body, the muscles of his shoulders trembling, closer, finding his dark eyes in the shadows of those strands, daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

You felt him.

The high so high, the air so electric, and you didn’t look away, lifting your hips to meet his in a loud smack, clenching around his twitching cock, the ecstasy of orgasm prickling all over your nerves, his name and your name mixing in husky whispers, breathless from the intensity.

Yoongi pushed back his hair, exhaling hard.

His forehead leaned against yours.

“Hah… You have a surprising amount of power in that sexy body of yours…”

“No, you.”

He laughed gruffly at your quick response, tickling your chin with his breath.

“I’m tired,” you declared.

He was so close that you could count his eyelashes.

“Then stay here.”

You stared into his eyes.

You never stayed before. Eventually, when there was no more to do, you went home. The same apartment. The same furnishings. The same routine that was becoming so mundane, so brainless, so pointless, because what was the point of experiencing life’s small comforts on your own when next time, next time, you could…

You didn’t say anything.

You bent your arm and reached over to above your shoulder, finding his hand and wrapping your fingers around it.

It was so simple.

“Don’t regret it,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

He raised an eyebrow. You felt it more than saw it.

“I thought it was obvious?”

“We should… at least say it once.”

It would be said more than once. Many times.

The first time was just the one to start off forever. You didn’t wait for him.

“I love you.”

Yoongi lifted his head so you could see him say it. He didn’t hesitate.

“I love you. I mean it.”

Red lips.

Red dress.

Dark red, high collar, billowy long sleeves, backless. The fabric clung to your hips, accompanying high side slit to expose a flash of leg. Hair swept to the side with long dangling earrings, red gems in a teardrop shape.

Silver ring of a skull surrounded by a snake on your left middle finger.

Min Yoongi rested his arm around your waist, his hand loosely on your hip.

Dark red shirt with a notched collar, black slacks, and his keys with the white tag keyring jangling on his belt loop. He carried his blazer over his shoulder, somewhat surprised that it was warm in the venue, but that was probably due to the number of people crowded in there, everyone busy congratulating the newlyweds.

You saw Kim Taehyung.

In a dark teal three-piece suit, standing next to his girlfriend wearing a forest green dress that suited her long hair and elegant figure. He spotted you and your eyes connected.

He almost looked away.

You smiled and nodded.

Taehyung paused, and then he smiled back.

“You want to say hi?”

“No.”

“Hm, I was looking forward to you telling him how much better I am at fucking.”

You almost snorted.

“I can’t say something like that at a wedding, Yoongi.”

“You can. I believe in you know the exact Korean words to express your satisfaction.”

You didn’t even bother giving him the side-eye this time.

“You’re cruel.”

“We all are, sometimes.”

“I’m about to be cruel to you in this dress.”

“Oh, good. I was beginning to lose hope.”

You smirked, turning your head, and Yoongi smirked back, open-mouthed and playful, yours, and you had wondered, how would I know, but you just knew, and how you knew was over time, over touches, over conversation, over moments that you thought meant nothing but, actually, they were all scenes of a movie that only you and Min Yoongi could make.

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