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smallestapplin · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I would like to ask you, since you are open to writing Animated, can you write a headcanon on the three personalities of Blitzwing regarding their expressions of affection? (And the spicy one! I'm starving for too little content on him…) I'd be happy to consider it if you feel up to it!

You didn’t specify human or cybertronian reader, but since I loved animated so much I will write both. Also I’m sorry if it’s bad, I’m finishing this half asleep but so excited to finally write more for tfa.💞

Minors do not interact! Adults only please.

- Blitzwing is surprisingly sweet with his courted, though his base persoanlity is a bit cold, he will often greet you with a pet name as if it was your actual name, and kiss the back of your hand/servo. Though he doesn’t express it more than that, he will often show his affection and care more through actions, like handing you a meal while you’re working, or leaving it on your desk to surprise you with it.

- He is protective over you, likes having you within sight of his optics or within grabbing range just in case any autobot tries to launch a surprise attack.

- note : if you are human he will always carry you around on his shoulder.

- When the switch is flipped inside him and he’s enraged, his angrier personality has more cuteness aggression, he loves you so much it’s maddening, he wants to squish your face, lightly shake you for daring to capture his spark how dare you to this to him! Making him soft, he loves you so so much don’t you try to wiggle out of his love.

- THE most protective of the three, he has to be constantly touching you needing to feel you beneath his servos, to the point where it doesn’t matter if your human or cybertronian he will just pick you up and carry you around. Often holds you when you’re talking to others and sulks, cause how dare someone else take up his beloved’s time when it should be spent with him!

- note : the only bot he doesn’t take you away from is Megatron, but you can see him sulking and shaking with rage just behind the decepticon leader.

- His chaotic personality is where the fun happens, at least in your eyes/optics. He likes making you laugh, likes hearing your snort or full on clinging to something to stand up laugh. But he’s also the most affectionate, always smothering you in kisses, picking you up to spin you around and gush about his love for you. He is the one who is running, skip in his step towards you after missions and battles.

- if Cybertronian, he will run towards you and jump, fully wanting you to catch him so he can kiss you sensless.

- Blitzwing in general is observant especially towards you, noting your habites, routines, items you seem to favor, so don’t be surprised when the news says there’s been a robbery at the blanket factory and he’s showing him with arms full cause you mentioned one time two months ago wanting to make a nest like berth.

- Also calls you conjunx whether you all are or not, because he fully intends to have the ceremony once they win the war, so expect to hear ‘that’s my Conjunx’ in so many different tones. From his colder personality saying it so casually “Oh, yes, my Conjunx, they are busy at the moment.”

To hearing him nearly yelling at Lugnut “That’s MY Conjunx, you oaf!”

And last to hear a crazed giggling and him to say in a dreamy tone “That’s my Conjunx! Aren’t they so cool?”

- Very rarely is Blitzwing is seen without you, unless it’s a battle or a mission he will almost always be found near or on you. His work gets done, and he does as he’s told, why shouldn’t he be allowed to spoil himself with his beloved’s presence? If you’re in a room, Blitzwing is not far away.

NSFW : GN!Cybertronian reader

- Tempurature play is unintentional when interfacing with Blitzwing, his servos are colder than most, it always makes you shake or cry out when he finally touches your spike or valve. While he doesn’t mean to, he can’t say he’s not fond of the reactions you give him. He is very thorough, wanting you to be perfectly prepared for him and take his spike with ease.

- His sounds are soft, he’s not very loud but you will hear his groans, mewls, and occasional whimper or gasp. You will overload at least twice before having you take his spike. His thrusts are always slow but hard, being sure to roll his hips to grind against your node with every thrust. He likes to enjoy his time with you, wanting to savor all of it, the feeling of you clenching around him, your servo dragging down his sensitive back, to hear how you beg for more and mutter your love for him.

- You will overload a few more times before he does, he might even fill you up twice if you ask sweetly enough. But afterwards he will kiss you slow and sweet, asking if you’re okay while he gets up to clean you up.

- You best prepare your valve for when he’s angry, though you can’t help but enjoy it. He manhandles you into hat positions he wants, his spike so deep inside you. His thrusts are fast and punch the ex-vents out of you. He’s warmer this time around, it heats up your body but yout heavy helm can barely think, you’ve overloaded so many times, cried for him to slow down cried for more, you can’t even tell what you’re begging for anymore as he rearranges your wires.

- Blitzwing is louder this time, chattier even, more into degradation to get his anger out on your valve, and if you aren’t overloading fast enough for his liking his servo will wrap around your spike, making you fuck his fist until he has you overloading. You are going to be drooling and crying by the time he finally loses his steam, and absolutely fragged stupid. After care depends on if you’re still concious or not. Your legs cannot be felt, you have lost the ability to walk, and honestly he might still keep his spike in your valve to keep you plugged, and to stay close to you.

- Will 100% fall asleep with you warming his spike and burying his face into your neck, and will be pissed if anyone disturbs you two.

- His chaotic personality is a wild card, sometimes he wants to frag you, sometimes he wants you to frag him, other times he wants to ride you and fuck himself dumb on your spike, you can never guess with him. Claws at you, covers your frame in so many bite marks and denting yout metal, he needs the galaxy to know you’re his.

- Cannot stop talking to save his spark, constantly speaking with a spike-drunk smile he babbles “yes yes more! Just like thaaat!! So good- frag me more, overload in me. Haha, sooo good…” he’s a drooling mess, hips unable to stop and valve clenching around your spike, desperately trying to milk you of all your transfluid.

- Sometimes you’ll pass out and walk up to Blitzwing still fucking himself on your spike, other times he’s keeping your spike warm and kisses your chassis and face plate with a goofy grin, talking about “oh my sweet Conjunx, you are truly wonderful! Holder of my spark, we should again and again!”

- Even interfacing he simply must loudly proclaim his love and affection for you, even if your spike is so deep inside him and you’re gripping his wings to fuck him harder.

GN!Human reader : warning overstim, belly bulge, and biolights shine through skin briefly mention.

- though much doesn’t change from the headcanons above, what does change is how powerful his thrusts are, he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when he’s enraged he’s still holding back a lot because your soft squishy human body wouldn’t be able to handle it. However it does come with the added benefit of seeing your stomach bulge, his biolights faintly shining through your skin making him go feral far faster.

- Your hole sucking him in, trying to keep him from pulling back out but he just can’t stop his rutting hips. Blitzwing is more prone to overstimulating himself with a human partner, mostly on accident as he grows addicted to the feeling, the sounds you make and the taste of your juices on his glossa.

- Your poor body will be littered with bruises from his hold, and your ass too just from how hard he was smacking his hips against your ass.

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#valveplug #mdni blog #mdni #transformers smut #tfa blitzwing #tfa Blitzwing x reader #tfa Blitzwing x reader smut #transformers x reader smut #transformers x reader #transformers Blitzwing x reader

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jophiel-extras · 1 year ago

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summary :: hot and bothered wandering thanks to AM

warning :: nsfw, aphrodisiac use, flirting asf, fem reader, reader and Ellen got it on

note :: hello AM lovers 👋 reqs open

Mental and physical torture didn’t compare to the special kind of abuse AM had been putting you through for the past week.

He hadn’t cut up your feet and made you walk for miles, nor had he starved you with mirages of glorious food. No, not you. His favourite.

AM had kept a special genre of torture just for you.

He’d silently offered you a bar of chocolate. The first piece of food you'd seen in months. You should've know that it would come at a price, however you'd never been starved for so long and you never could've expected the chocolate had been drizzled with synthetic aphrodisiacs.

For days you had needed and ached.

Even more, AM had separate you from the rest. If only Ellen was with you, she’d help. Or Ted, Gorrister. Fuck, you’d even settle for Benny.

You’d kept up a limping pace, attempting to walk off your unbelievable horniness, but the exercise hardly took your mind away from the throbbing of your core. You were hot, sweaty and flustered. Filled with unsightly thoughts and feelings. No amount of walking (or running) had done away with your incredible lust.

You stumbled to a stop and began slipping your hand south. You just needed a release, one. You puffed, hand turning into a fist before it reached the line of underwear. No, AM would not be getting his sick show from you.

And as though he'd lingered in your mind, AM's booming voice carved through the barren landscape.

"Oh, don't let me stop you. Continue, please." He'd learned to imitate a gentleman awfully well. As much as you hated the need that choked your core you couldn't help but buckle at the knees from his rough voice. "If only I had a body, I'd help you out." Sickeningly sweet.

"If you had a body, I'd destroy it." A frustrated whisper, but AM heard it all the same.

"Is that a threat or a promise, baby?" Smooth, low and close to your left ear.

You slapped your hand over your mouth and continued to walk despite how much you wanted to bend over and take whatever AM wanted to give you. You had your dignity, you'd keep it until you'd walked for an entire year if you had to.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. All I wanted was for you to have a little pleasure." You couldn't even feel sick by his words, you were unbelievably drowned by desire. You felt like an animal in heat.

It had been far too long since you'd had any release. Ellen was the last person you'd been to bed with, but neither of you had truely finished. Neither of you could.

You hadn't felt half as horny as you did now. Utterly dripping.

AM hummed and the vibration seeped into the ground you stood on. If there was a God other than AM, you wished he would end your suffering.

"Come on, I promise I won't tell the others. I'll even consider letting you gorge in a feats of your favourite foods." His voice loomed close and quiet until it was like his very being was behind you. "Touch yourself."

his words held such command you didn't know if your hand that begun sliding into your underwear was done out of your own will or AM's. You didn't much care. To hell with dignity. You'd drown yourself in embarrassment after this was all over with.

You'd curled up once again, in shame and discomfort. AM had won, simply. As he did time and time again. At least this time, you were able to get a release from his torture. One that the two of you enjoyed.

#am x reader ihnmaims #ihnmaims x reader #ihnmaims #I have no mouth and I must scream #allied mastercomputer #harlan ellison #great soft jelly thing #am x reader

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hoseoksluna · 6 months ago

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THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him.

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead.

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without.

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company?

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny.

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents.

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down.

Somehow, the act made it hotter.

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty.

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you.

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.”

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill.

This is thrilling.

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it.

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center.

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order.

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you.

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however.

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.”

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain.

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is.

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it.

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this.

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about.

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat.

That touch-starved you are.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.”

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on.

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about?

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle.

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords.

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through.

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it.

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.”

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of.

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is.

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.”

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole.

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts.

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it.

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too.

This is the closest you’ll ever get.

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly.

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him.

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged.

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered.

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup.

And you shall.

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.”

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree.

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely.

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours.

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand.

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time.

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience.

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts.

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts.

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling.

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation.

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is.

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change.

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless.

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them.

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.

“Like what?”

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe.

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings.

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life.

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.”

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you.

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth.

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature.

And literature is your life. It’s all you know.

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you.

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.”

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel.

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation.

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter.

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?”

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction.

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering.

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand… his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone.

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away.

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you.

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress.

And you don’t lock the door.

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Titus [Space Emperor Yan] and former Assassin Cat-Hybrid Darling. (Just a blurbo for now but I love these two now so I'd love to come back to this)

When the pair met, Darling thought Titus was no different from the rest of their targets. A self proclaimed god untouchable by those below him. Little did they know that their employers were basically setting them up on a suicide mention as the tyrant is a damn near immortal deity. As they perch atop his bed - knife planted in his chest, Darling counts their cards as a large hand locks around their wrist; pulling the blade out as one night remove a splinter. There was nowhere for them to run. The element of surprise had been swept from under their feet. They struggle and claw at the man, but there is no give to his iron grasp. As their brain draws to any conclusion a trapped animal may have, the knife in their hands is tossed across the room before they can take the final plunge.

The Emperor should have his little intruder punished. Waking a kind from his beauty rest is a serious offense. A crime in which the accused receives no trial and punished to the highest degree. Their eyelids removed so they never experience another second of slumber before their execution. There is also the more "amusing" route of electrocution or burning everytime they attempt to shut their eyes. Darling surely would have been subjected to this fate if they weren't so... So...

Precious~

Did this adorable little feline really think they could kill a god so easily? They insult him, but fortunately for them, they're cute enough for him to let it slide. The poor thing could use a bath though... And those scars.... When was the last time they had a proper meal? Oh, and those rags!

Titus scoops up the feisty kitty and thrusts them into the hands of his guards while he sorts through his closet for something to throw on until he can get them measured. Darling attempts to flee any chance they are alone, but with Titus promising to have the heads of everyone in the palace if they escaped - they never got far. Once they had some food in them and fully realized Titus wasn't bluffing when he called his home their new place of resident - Darling came up with a plan to lure Titus into false security and learn his witness to take him down when he least expected it. The only flaw in their plan was they underestimate their own commitment to the role as day by day their acceptance of the tyrant's obsession became less of an act.

They no longer had to work for their meals. Everything they could ever deserve was thrust placed right in their hands if they snuggled up to their new master or swished their tail just right in Union with those big adorable eyes. Their word stood above all in his counsel. They were waited on hand and foot by everyone under Titus' rulevIt was paradise. Their former comrades and the person they once were would be disgusted by what they've become, but if the former ever came to drag them back to their old ways they were swiftly cut down without so much as a passing glance from the royal that once stood beside them.

Titus is ever so glad he managed to bag that angry stray and turn them into the sweetest lil dear anyone has ever seen. He nearly loses his composure everytime he catches them lazying around in his robes - cloth barely clinging to their smaller figure. He knows they only do it to make sure he never says no to him, but there's hardly anything he would deny them beside their freedom. Whatever their heart longs for is a small prize to pay for their company. The Emperor is absolutely whipped for his little bedmate and would do anything to keep them collared at his side.

Assassin: You used to be something.... You could have lived a life similar to this without sacrificing your freedom if you had just taken his head. You are but a shell of the person I once knew. I despise you.

Cat Hybrid Reader: Hm... What you say might be true, but there's still something this life grants me that makes it all worth it

[Reader tears their shirt and knees on the floor closer to the cell as they shout]

Cat Hybrid Reader: Titus! Help!

Titus, storming down the dungeon stairwell: Oh, my precious angel. [Picks up Reader and checks them over for injuries] Don't worry, my love. I will have these awful, awful person executed at once. I'll have a necklace made from their ashes, but for now - will a massage and treats make do for leaving you all alone?

Cat Hybrid Reader, wiping fake tears from their eyes: yes....

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #male yandere #Titus my oc #tw yandere #yandere alien #yandere exophilia

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trevorsgodmother · 5 months ago

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𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 (C.S 🌪)- Pt 1/2

"I broke you just to own you..."

Warnings: SMUTTTT, swearing, unprotected sex, mentions of drinking and alcohol, Rough dom!Chris, Sub virgin!reader, degrading, edging, fingering, pet names... 👀 POV: First person(reader) Summary: Years of waiting later, and Chris finally gets his hands on you after an infamous Tara Yummy party...

I've been friends with the triplets since around middle school. We all eventually became influencers, racking up millions of followers and subs in a few years. I'd always sworn to never catch feelings for any of them, but I broke my own promise for Chris...

We're all currently sitting in their living room, chattering about random stuff while drinking cans of soda. It's hot outside, and my outfit is definitely not classified as 'modest', but I couldn't care less. Especially because it meant that Chris kept stealing glances my way. He's been protective of me since we became close friends, and at first I thought it was just him being a gentlemen. But my delusional mind has started seeing it in a more-than-friends way.

Just as Nick is about to go on a rant about who knows what (probably McFlurries not being mixed), my phone pings with a text notification. Chris looks up at me questioningly, and I check who it's from. Tara 💅❤️💋: 'Heyyy bbg, i'm having my 24th party next week. Ur obvi coming, and invite the triplets too!!'

I smile, and reply with a 'Yes ma'am', then look up. "Guys, Tara invited us to her birthday next week. Y'all coming?" Nick immediately looks excited, stopping his rambling for a moment. "Girl yesss. Matt, you have to come just this one time. Pleeasseee" While Nick tries to convince a reluctant Matt, I turn to Chris. "You?" "Of course, her parties are quite...interesting" He chuckles, and I grin, knowing that by the end of the night i'm usually blackout drunk with Chris not far behind. We're party animals, and it got annoying for Matt since he had to drive us home while we acted like monkeys almost every time. "It's a Tara Yummy party, what do you expect?" I shrug. Nick whips around to face me, his eyes glowing. "What are you wearing this time?" He asks, anticipating my answer. It's well known within the influencer community that Tara's 'inner circle' consists of her, me and our other friends Paige and Rowana (these are random names btw). Us four are tight-knit, and are infamously known to wear the skimpiest things at every party we host.

This time would not be an exception (hoes rise up fr). I pretend to think for a second. "I'm gunna go sooo much worse this time." Nick grins, and Chris leans forward, smirking and interested. The latter speaks up. "Worse than last time? That'll be hard to beat." "I know. I'll have to look everywhere to find something." I dramatically sigh.

Matt and Nick let out laughs and Chris raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure you'll find something... good" He murmurs, not tearing his eyes off me. I clear my throat. "I hope so. A week can go by pretty quickly." My eyes flicker to his for a second, but I quickly look away. Chris doesn't look away though, and his piercing gaze makes my heart flutter and palms sweaty. Get it together Y/N! The dude's just looking at you! But he notices how red my cheeks are, and grins. He definitely knows.

Nick, as oblivious to the tension as Matt is, nods. "A week is pretty short, but I bet you can find something quickly." The conversation diverts to gossip from Tara's last party, and I jokingly ask. "I wonder how many people will hook up this time." Nick nods. "It's going to be a warzone. Dude are gunna be fighting over you and the other girls. It'll be a madhouse." Matt laughs, and I raise a finger. "I'm proud to say i've never hooked up at a Tara party. Or any party." Nick rolls his eyes. "Oh yea, you're waiting for the perfect man." Chris perks up at this, impressed and slightly pleased that I've never had sex before. He knows it isn't his place to manifest or be wishful over his best friend, but it gave him a slight sense of hope that he could be the one to claim me.

TIMESKIP TO THE PARTY: Tara had rented a penthouse for the party. The place was packed with influencers, our friends, and other random people who'd gotten an invite shared to them. Her 'close circle', which is us, walk out onto the stage. Tara, Paige, Rowana and I wave at everyone. My silver heels clack against the stage, matching my silver jewellery. Everyone there is entranced by the sight of us, and are either checking us out or envious. I don't notice, but Chris' gaze had darkened seeing me, like something was awakening in him. Tara raises a shot of Vodka. She thanks everyone who came, complimented their outfits and ended her speech by downing the shot and yelling. "TIME TO GET FUCKING DRUNKKK!"

Everyone yells in unison, excited to get absolutely smashed. The bar quickly fills up, plenty of under 21's (us included heehee) getting alcoholic drinks. Music begins to blare from the large surround speakers, and the lights dim, being replaced by colourful party lights swiveling around the room instead. I see the triplets coming over, already with glasses of amber liquid in their hands, though less in Matt's than the other two. Chris' eyes were on me specifically, licking his dry lips as he casts his gaze over my body. "You look..." He lets his sentence trail off, the words stuck at the back of his throat. I flush a little, thankfully hidden by the darkness of the room. "Thanks. You guys look amazing too." Nick grins and slings an arm around me, and Matt nods appreciatively. "Everyone's looking sharp tonight." Nick and I agree with Matt. But Chris is still staring at me, with a look that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than hunger and want.

A/N: Pt 2 will be the smut, and will be out soon. As always, please give feedback and don't steal.🙏😔. LOVE YOU ALL <3 Taglist: @hearts4werka Dividers by @issysh3ll and @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

☞ Masterlist

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #chris x y/n #chris x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #rop'sblog #rop'sfics

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bratzkoo · 19 days ago

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WGM episode 9 | dk

episode 9: the farewell trip

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 4.3k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. final episode tomorrow! yey.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows , @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

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[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 8, focusing on their amusement park adventures, Seokmin winning the stuffed dog, and their intimate moment on the Ferris wheel]

Narrator: "As their We Got Married journey nears its conclusion, our couple embarks on a special two-day farewell trip to reflect on their time together!"

---

The drive to the coastal town was quiet, the silence filled with thoughts Seokmin couldn't bring himself to voice. The PD had informed them last week that Episodes 9 and 10 would be the finale of their "We Got Married" journey—Episode 9 featuring a farewell trip, followed by Episode 10's closing ceremony back in Seoul.

Two more episodes. Two more filming days. And then... what?

The question had been haunting Seokmin ever since the amusement park date, where he'd finally admitted to himself what he'd been trying to deny for weeks: his feelings for Y/N had long since crossed the line from professional to personal. The realization should have been liberating, but instead, it felt like a ticking clock had been placed beside him, counting down the moments until their manufactured relationship reached its scripted conclusion.

"You're being very philosophical over there," Y/N observed from the seat beside him, breaking his reverie. They were in the backseat of a production van, cameras mounted discreetly to capture their journey. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

"Just enjoying the scenery," Seokmin lied, gesturing vaguely at the passing coastline.

Y/N gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him but chose not to push. Instead, she shifted slightly closer, their shoulders almost touching. "It's beautiful here. I've never been to this part of the coast before."

"Me neither," Seokmin replied, grateful for the easy conversation topic. "The members and I usually go to Jeju when we have time off."

"All twelve of you? That sounds chaotic."

"Controlled chaos is our specialty," Seokmin confirmed with a smile. "Though 'controlled' might be generous. It's mostly just Seungcheol and Joshua trying to prevent the rest of us from accidentally setting things on fire or adopting stray animals."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his heart rate even after all this time. "I'd pay good money to see that."

"Maybe someday you will," Seokmin said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. The implication that she would still be in his life after the show ended hung awkwardly between them.

Before either could address it, the PD called from the front seat. "We're almost there! Get ready for your first look at the villa."

The production van rounded a curve, revealing a stunning beachfront property nestled against a backdrop of pine trees and ocean. The villa was modern but warm, with large windows overlooking the water and a spacious deck that wrapped around the building.

"Wow," Y/N breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. "That's... not what I was expecting."

"Too nice for a couple about to get fake-divorced?" Seokmin joked, though the words stung as he said them.

"Maybe they're trying to remind us what we'll be missing," Y/N replied with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

The van pulled up to the entrance, where the rest of the production crew was already setting up equipment. The PD handed them each an envelope as they exited the vehicle.

"Your mission for this trip," the PD explained, "is to reflect on your journey together. These envelopes contain specific activities for you to complete during your two days here. They're designed to help you process your experience and prepare for your final episode."

Farewell activities. Seokmin's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. It was all so... final.

They entered the villa together, cameras tracking their reactions as they explored the space. The interior was as impressive as the exterior—open and airy, with comfortable furnishings and tasteful decor. A large living room with a fireplace opened onto the deck, while a modern kitchen and dining area occupied one wing. Down a hallway, they found two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom.

"Two bedrooms?" Y/N questioned quietly, raising an eyebrow at Seokmin.

"Apparently even fake marriages have boundaries," Seokmin replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the odd disappointment he felt. Not that he had expected to share a room with Y/N—they never had during previous episodes—but something about the separate spaces underscored the artifice of their relationship in a way that felt particularly pointed.

Once they had settled in, the PD gathered them in the living room for further instructions.

"Today, you'll complete the first activity from your envelopes," he explained. "The crew will follow at a distance to capture footage, but we want this to feel natural and reflective. Tomorrow morning, you'll do the second activity, followed by a farewell dinner in the evening. Then we'll return to Seoul for your final episode."

Everything so carefully planned, even their goodbyes. Seokmin nodded, trying to maintain a professional expression despite the heaviness in his chest.

When the PD left them to prepare, Y/N opened her envelope, reading the card inside. "My first activity is a sunset beach walk where we write messages in the sand about what we've learned from each other." She looked up at Seokmin. "What's yours?"

Seokmin opened his envelope. "A boat ride to the nearby cove. It says we should use the time on the water to discuss how the show has changed us." He glanced at Y/N. "Looks like they've scheduled your activity for this evening and mine for tomorrow morning."

"Very poetic," Y/N observed. "Sunset reflections and sunrise revelations."

"The PD does have a flair for the dramatic," Seokmin agreed. "Almost like they're producing a television show or something."

Y/N laughed, some of the tension dissipating. "What should we do until sunset? We have a few hours."

Seokmin glanced out at the clear blue sky and the inviting beach below their deck. "Want to explore? The cameras can follow, but we don't have to be 'on' yet."

"I'd like that," Y/N agreed, already heading toward her room. "Let me change into something more beach-appropriate."

While Y/N changed, Seokmin stepped out onto the deck, taking a deep breath of salt-tinged air. The setting was undeniably romantic—the perfect backdrop for declarations of love or tearful goodbyes. He wondered if that was deliberate, if the producers were hoping for some dramatic revelation during their final episodes together.

What would happen if he actually told Y/N how he felt? The thought sent a jolt of panic through him. Would she laugh it off as method acting? Would she gently explain that she saw him only as a colleague, a friend at most? Or was there a chance, however small, that she might feel something too?

The sliding door opened behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Y/N stepped out onto the deck in a simple sundress, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking so naturally beautiful that it made his chest ache.

"Ready to be terrible tourists?" she asked with a smile.

"Born ready," Seokmin replied, pushing his complicated feelings aside for the moment. "I excel at looking confused in new places."

They spent the next few hours exploring the small coastal town, cameras following at a discreet distance. They browsed local shops, sampled street food, and wandered along the harbor, falling into the easy companionship that had developed between them over the past eight episodes.

In a small art gallery, Y/N lingered in front of a painting of the ocean at sunset, the colors vibrant and alive against the canvas.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "Reminds me of the view from our villa."

"You should get it," Seokmin suggested. "A souvenir of our trip."

Y/N glanced at him, something unreadable in her expression. "Maybe I will."

While she arranged the purchase with the gallery owner, Seokmin found himself drawn to a different painting—a simple depiction of two people walking along a beach, their figures small against the vastness of the sea and sky. There was something achingly poignant about it, a sense of both connection and impermanence that resonated with his current emotional state.

Without overthinking it, he purchased the painting, arranging to have it delivered to his dorm in Seoul after the trip.

When they reunited outside the gallery, each carrying a wrapped package, they exchanged knowing smiles but didn't comment on their purchases. Some things, it seemed, they were keeping private, even from each other.

As the afternoon waned, they made their way back to the villa to prepare for the sunset beach walk. The production crew was already positioning cameras along the shoreline, creating the illusion of privacy while ensuring every moment would be captured.

"Ready for some deep reflection?" Y/N asked as they removed their shoes at the edge of the sand.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Seokmin replied, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach. "Though I should warn you, my handwriting in sand leaves much to be desired."

"I'll try not to judge," Y/N promised with a smile.

They began walking along the water's edge, the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. The ocean lapped gently at their feet, the rhythmic sound of waves creating a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"So," Y/N began after they'd walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, "what have you learned from me? That's the mission, right?"

Seokmin considered the question seriously. "I've learned a lot, actually. More than I expected to."

"Like what?"

"Like how to navigate disagreements without either avoiding conflict entirely or turning it into a bigger issue than it needs to be," Seokmin said, thinking back to their decoration argument. "You taught me that it's okay to have different opinions, and that compromise doesn't mean someone has to lose."

Y/N looked surprised and touched by his answer. "That's... really thoughtful."

"I have my moments," Seokmin replied with a self-deprecating smile. "What about you? What have you learned from me?"

Y/N was quiet for a moment, watching the waves wash over their footprints. "I've learned about authenticity," she said finally. "You're so genuinely yourself in every situation, even when it would be easier to put on a persona or hide behind professionalism. It's made me braver about showing my real self too."

The sincerity in her voice made Seokmin's heart tighten. "Even when my real self is screaming like a pterodactyl on roller coasters?"

"Especially then," Y/N laughed. "The willingness to be embarrassed or vulnerable and just own it—that's rare, especially in our industry."

They continued walking, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted memories and more profound reflections. When they reached a secluded stretch of beach, Y/N stopped, gesturing to the damp sand before them.

"I think this is where we're supposed to write our messages," she said, glancing at the camera crew positioned discreetly on a dune behind them.

Seokmin nodded, kneeling down to write in the sand with his finger. After a moment's thought, he carefully traced the words: "Thank you for making pretend feel real."

Y/N read it silently, her expression softening. She knelt beside him and wrote her own message: "Some shows end, but some feelings remain."

Seokmin stared at her words, heart pounding. Was she implying what he thought? Or was he reading too much into a vague statement that would sound good on television?

Before he could analyze it further, a larger wave rushed up the beach, washing away both their messages and leaving only smooth sand behind.

"Well, that's symbolic," Y/N said with a small laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Impermanence at its finest," Seokmin agreed, trying to ignore the uncomfortable parallel to their relationship. Here today, gone tomorrow, leaving no trace behind.

They stood watching the ocean for a moment longer, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Finally, Y/N turned to him with a smile that seemed slightly forced.

"We should head back," she said. "It's getting dark."

"Right," Seokmin agreed, falling into step beside her as they retraced their path along the shore.

The walk back was quieter, both lost in their own thoughts. As the villa came into view, illuminated against the deepening twilight, Y/N surprised Seokmin by reaching out and taking his hand.

"For the cameras," she said softly, though none were currently visible.

"Right," Seokmin replied, entwining his fingers with hers and trying not to read too much into the gesture. "For the cameras."

---

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair, served on the villa's deck under the stars. The production team had arranged for a local chef to prepare a seafood feast, which they ate at a candlelit table with the sound of waves as their backdrop.

"This is nice," Y/N commented, gesturing around them. "They're really going all out for our farewell."

"Making sure we end on a high note," Seokmin agreed. "Though I'm slightly terrified about what they might have planned for the final episode."

"Probably something overly dramatic," Y/N suggested. "Maybe confetti cannons while we return our rings."

"Or doves released as we sign fake divorce papers."

"Perhaps a montage of our 'journey' set to emotional music."

They laughed, but there was an edge to it, a shared acknowledgment of the reality waiting for them after this bubble of pretend domesticity popped.

As they finished dinner, the PD approached their table. "Great work today, both of you. The beach footage looks beautiful. We'll start tomorrow with the boat ride at 9 AM, so make sure you're ready."

After the crew had cleared away the dinner dishes and retreated to their separate accommodations down the beach, Seokmin and Y/N found themselves alone on the deck. The night was clear, stars scattered like diamonds across the velvet sky, the sound of waves creating a peaceful backdrop to their conversation.

"Want to build a fire?" Seokmin suggested, gesturing to the fire pit nestled in the corner of the deck. "It's getting a bit chilly."

"Sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

They worked together to arrange wood and kindling, Seokmin eventually producing a small flame that grew into a cheerful fire. They settled into the comfortable chairs surrounding the pit, the flickering light casting warm shadows across their faces.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/N said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Anything," Seokmin replied, perhaps too honestly.

"What will you remember most about this whole experience? When it's all over and you're back to your normal life."

The question caught Seokmin off guard with its directness. He considered it carefully, aware that his answer might reveal more than he intended.

"Honestly? The in-between moments," he said finally. "Not the big, produced segments or the challenges, but the small interactions that weren't necessarily for the cameras. Like our text conversations about DK Junior, or that coffee we had after the second episode, or even just now, building this fire together."

Y/N smiled, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. "I think those are my favorite memories too. The real stuff around the edges of the show."

"What about you?" Seokmin asked. "What will you remember most?"

Y/N was quiet for a moment, gazing into the flames. "The wedding, I think," she said softly. "When you sang instead of reading your vows. That was... unexpected. Special."

Seokmin felt his ears warming, and it wasn't from the fire. "Pure panic response," he tried to joke. "My brain short-circuited and fell back on the one thing I know I can do well."

"Well, it worked," Y/N replied, her voice gentle. "It felt genuine in a way that written vows might not have."

There was that word again—genuine. Real. Authentic. The thread that kept weaving through their conversations, the implicit acknowledgment that something true had developed within their manufactured relationship.

"Y/N," Seokmin began, his heart pounding, "I've been thinking—"

"Don't," she interrupted softly, her eyes still on the fire. "Not yet. Let's just... enjoy this moment. We can talk tomorrow, after your boat activity."

Seokmin nodded, recognizing both the gentle rejection and the promise in her words. Not yet. Which implied a later, a future conversation about whatever was happening between them.

They sat in companionable silence after that, watching the fire slowly burn down to embers. When it was time to retire for the night, they stood at the doorway to their separate bedrooms, an awkward moment of uncertainty hanging between them.

"Goodnight, Seokmin," Y/N said finally, her voice soft in the darkened hallway.

"Goodnight," he replied, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, to prolong the moment. "See you in the morning."

As he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of waves through his open window, Seokmin found himself mentally rehearsing what he might say to Y/N during tomorrow's boat ride. How did one confess developing real feelings during a fake relationship without sounding completely ridiculous?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, illuminating the darkness with its soft glow.

Y/N: Still awake?

Seokmin smiled, typing back immediately.

Seokmin: Apparently. You too?

Y/N: Can't sleep. Too many thoughts.

Seokmin: Want to share any of them?

There was a long pause before her response came through.

Y/N: I'm going to miss this.

Three simple words that conveyed so much. Seokmin stared at them, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

Seokmin: Me too. More than I expected to.

Y/N: What happens when the cameras stop rolling for good?

The question he'd been avoiding, laid bare between them.

Seokmin: What do you want to happen?

Another long pause.

Y/N: I don't know. But I don't want it to just end.

Seokmin took a deep breath, fingers hovering over the screen as he considered his response.

Seokmin: It doesn't have to.

Y/N: Doesn't it? We live in different worlds, Seokmin. After next week, you go back to SEVENTEEN and I go back to my next project, and this becomes a line on both our resumes.

The pragmatism in her message stung, even though he knew she was right. Their lives were complicated, their careers demanding. Whatever had developed between them would face significant challenges in the real world.

Seokmin: Unless we don't let it.

Y/N: Let's talk tomorrow. For real, not for the cameras. After the boat ride.

Seokmin: Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.

Y/N: Goodnight, Seokmin. Sweet dreams.

He set his phone aside, both more anxious and more hopeful than he'd been before their exchange. Tomorrow, they would talk—really talk, without cameras or scripts or careful evasions. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

---

Morning arrived with a sudden change in weather. What had been a clear, starry night had transformed into a gray, drizzly day, the ocean churning with white-capped waves beneath a stormy sky.

"We might need to modify today's plans," the PD announced at breakfast, looking concerned as he checked the weather radar on his phone. "The boat captain says it's safe to go out, but it's going to be choppy. Are you both okay with that?"

Seokmin looked at Y/N, remembering her fear of heights. "Would rough waters be a problem for you?"

"I'm not seasick easily, if that's what you're asking," Y/N replied with a small smile. "I think I can handle it if you can."

"I've survived Hoshi's dance practices," Seokmin said seriously. "A little rough water is nothing."

With the decision made, they prepared for the boat ride, donning raincoats provided by the production team and making their way down to the small harbor where a modest fishing boat awaited them. The captain, a weathered man with kind eyes, greeted them warmly.

"Should be fine," he assured them, eyeing the clouds. "Just a bit of rain, nothing serious. We'll stay close to shore and be back in an hour or so."

The camera crew boarded with them, positioning equipment under waterproof covers. As promised in the activity card, they would maintain a respectful distance during the ride, allowing Seokmin and Y/N space for their conversation while still capturing footage.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, Seokmin and Y/N stood at the railing, watching the shore recede. The rain was light but persistent, creating a misty veil over the landscape.

"Dramatic weather for dramatic conversations," Y/N observed, pulling her hood tighter around her face. "Very on-brand for our finale."

"The PD probably arranged it specially," Seokmin agreed, earning a laugh from Y/N.

They fell silent as the boat navigated around the coastline, the engine's hum and the splash of waves against the hull creating a soundtrack to their journey. When they reached a sheltered cove, the captain reduced speed, allowing the boat to drift gently in the protected waters.

"So," Y/N said after a moment, "we're supposed to discuss how the show has changed us."

"Right," Seokmin nodded, gathering his courage. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"I'll start," Y/N offered, turning to face him more fully. "The honest truth is that this experience has changed me more than I expected it to. I went into it thinking it would be good exposure, a fun project that might expand my audience. I didn't expect..."

She paused, seeming to search for the right words.

"Didn't expect what?" Seokmin prompted gently.

"I didn't expect to connect with you so much," Y/N admitted, her eyes meeting his with an honesty that took his breath away. "I didn't expect to find myself looking forward to filming days, or texting you at midnight just to share something silly, or thinking about our conversations when I should be focusing on other things."

Seokmin's heart hammered in his chest. "I know exactly what you mean."

"The show was supposed to be pretend," Y/N continued, her voice soft but steady. "But somewhere along the way, parts of it started feeling very real to me."

"Which parts?" Seokmin asked, needing to hear her say it explicitly.

Y/N's smile was small but genuine. "The way I feel when I'm with you. That's real. Has been for a while now."

The admission hung between them, as significant as the rain falling around their sheltered spot on the boat. Seokmin felt like he might float away with the lightness suddenly filling his chest.

"Me too," he said simply. "I've been trying to keep reminding myself it's just for the show, but... it hasn't felt that way for a long time."

Y/N reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. "So what do we do about it?"

"I don't know," Seokmin admitted honestly. "Our lives are complicated. Our schedules are insane. The media attention would be... intense."

"All true," Y/N agreed. "But I'd regret it if we didn't at least try to figure it out."

"Me too," Seokmin said, squeezing her hand. "Maybe we could start slow? Real dates without cameras. See where it goes."

Y/N smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'd like that."

Before Seokmin could respond, the skies opened up, the light drizzle transforming into a sudden downpour. They both let out surprised laughs as the rain soaked them despite their raincoats.

"We should go below deck!" Seokmin shouted over the sound of rain pounding against the boat.

"In a minute!" Y/N called back, her face tilted up to the sky, eyes closed as the rain washed over her. "This feels symbolic somehow!"

Seokmin laughed, watching her with a surge of affection so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. She was beautiful like this—unguarded, joyful, embracing the moment with the same authenticity he'd come to adore about her.

Without overthinking it, he stepped closer, his hands finding her waist. Y/N's eyes opened, meeting his with a question in them.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, barely audible over the rain.

In answer, Y/N rose on her tiptoes, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that was sweet and tentative at first, then deeper as Seokmin pulled her closer. The rain continued to fall around them, but neither noticed or cared.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Y/N was smiling. "For the record," she said, "that was definitely not for the cameras."

"Noted," Seokmin replied, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. "Though I'm pretty sure they got it anyway."

They glanced toward the camera crew, who were indeed filming from their sheltered position, the PD giving them a thumbs up that was equal parts professional approval and personal congratulations.

"Well," Y/N laughed, "at least Episode 9 will have a dramatic climax."

"The viewers will be thrilled," Seokmin agreed, still holding her close. "But I'm more interested in what happens off-camera from here on out."

"Me too," Y/N said softly, her eyes meeting his with a promise that had nothing to do with television and everything to do with the real connection they'd found within their manufactured marriage.

As the boat turned back toward the harbor, rain still falling around them, Seokmin couldn't help but think about the message Y/N had written in the sand the night before, now washed away by the tide but etched permanently in his memory:

Some shows end, but some feelings remain.

And in that moment, soaked to the skin but warmer than he'd ever felt, Seokmin knew with absolute certainty that whatever had started between them during these past nine episodes was only the beginning of their story—the real story, no cameras required.

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fanfictiongirlie · 2 months ago

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Twilight: The Human and the Wolf Chapter Sixteen

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x OC (First person, no use of Y/N)

Description: Bella Swan's twin moved to Forks with her sister. Whilst Bella falls for a vampire, her twin falls for a wolf. The story runs parallel to Bella's story in Twilight. But following her twin and her life with the wolves.

Warnings: Nothing

Chapter Sixteen - I Wanna See Wolf Paul

When I woke up, the sun was shining through the window of Emily and Sam's spare room, I blinked softly, though the sun was out it was still cold, I shivered slightly and nuzzled closer to Paul, his warm body making sure I didn't feel an ounce of cold. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight that streamed through the window. I sighed happily, he was so breathtakingly beautiful, it made my insides feeling a little fuzzy knowing it was me and him forever now. A small pang of guilt washed over me, thinking about Bella. I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix her, make her forget about the Cullens altogether.

"Good morning, sweetheart" Paul mumbles, his voice deep and hoarse as he speaks, his morning voice might have been one of my favourite things in the entire world. It was deep, sexy and oh, could probably make me do anything for him. Forget my morals and listen to his words forever.

"Morning" I mumble, I take a deep breath feeling very warm, wolves were weird, I wasn't sure how turning into a wolf meant you were always incredibly hot to the touch. It was a weird, strange world we lived in.

"Can I ask you something??" I ask, the thought of wolves on my mind now, I hadn't seen him as a wolf since that day on the beach. He raised an eyebrow slightly as I spoke, obviously not expecting a question so soon after waking up.

"Yeah, of course. You can ask me anything" He mumbles with a lazy smile. I had wanted to forget about the question and move forward to press my lips against his, my eyes trailed down to his lips, they were so soft and pink, and fit perfectly against mine. "Sweetheart..?" I look back up, my eyes meeting his as I blush, having been caught staring.

"Can we go into the woods today? And maybe you could phase... I wanna see wolf Paul properly" I say confidently. Paul's expression softened at my request, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Of course we can, sweetheart. I'd love to phase for you in the woods. I thought you'd never ask."

I grin excitedly, today was going to be awesome. Hopefully he didn't eat me, well, I'm sure that wouldn't happen, just my mind being overly active. We stayed in the bed, cuddling for a little longer, until his nostrils flared at the smell of food being cooked downstairs. I giggle softly as he very quickly rushes out of bed, almost forgetting to dress, good thing I reminded him.

The smell of breakfast wafts through the house, Paul had beaten me downstairs by a few minutes as I needed to get dressed. When I do finally get downstairs I find Emily, Sam, Jared and Paul all sitting around the large kitchen table. I say my good mornings and take my usual seat by Paul, the sun was shining through the open double doors, the fresh wood air mixed with the scent of breakfast and it had me smiling, this was my place, my happy place.

"Looks like Paul had a good birthday last night." Jared said, a knowing grin on his lips. I rolled my eyes playfully, and groaned softly as I saw Paul smile proudly, his chest puffing out slightly.

"Damn right I did!" He grins, I give his arm a prod. "Shut up" I say, my face flushing red. I quickly ate my breakfast and stood, grabbing Paul's hand, pulling him with me, he was already on his third plate of food, and his mouth was still full, but I was so ready to see his wolf form. He chuckled, a muffled noise as he followed me from the house.

As we walked through the woods, his hand was tightly in mind, his senses already on high-alert, the woods were quiet and fresh, the morning animals scurried through the trees, and leaves rustled through the breeze. Once we were deep enough into the thick of trees he stopped, with two hands on my shoulders he moved me and sit on a log, we were in a small clearing now, the trees made a circle of sorts around the grassed area.

"Ready?" He asks, a small grin on his lips. I nodded, my eyes not leaving his as I look up at him. Paul steps away from me, a few feet into the clearing, he starts pulling his clothes off, a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine as I watched him. Once he was naked he threw his clothes to me and I gathered them into my arms, holding them close, smiling as his scent flowed into my nose, I took in a deep breath and smiled as the relaxed feeling that washed over me.

"Ready, sweetheart?" He asked, I giggled softly as he stood naked in front of me. I nodded once more, my knees bounced up and down as I felt even more excited. Paul nods, giving me one last intense look before his body started shaking, his body shuddered and contorted, and moments later a huge wolf stood in front of me. His fur looked so soft, I wanted to touch it. I slowly stood up and walked to him, reaching my hand out, his eyes were the same, soft and loving as the looked to me. I shivered slightly and moved further, moving my fingers into the space between his ears.

My fingers disappeared into the dark silver fur, I giggled softly. "You're beautiful Paulie" I whisper. He leans into my touch, a low, contented sound like a growl rumbling in his throat. I move slightly and press my forehead against his snout, I move my hands under his chin, stroking him with my nails as his fur tickles my nose. Paul's tail started to wag slowly as you kept petting him, a deep, low rumble coming from his chest.

"I love you" I whisper. We stood there for a while, my face resting on his, breathing together, listening to the world go on round us, the birds chirped and the wind made small noises as it soared through the branches. As Paul changed back into his human form, he stood there for a moment, completely naked, and looked at me. A lazy, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes were filled with something between smugness and affection.

"I loved it, you're so pretty as a wolf" I say, I reach for his clothes and pass them over.

"You think I'm pretty in my wolf form, huh? Even if I'm a big, furry beast" He asks, smirking as he takes a step closer to me. I take a step back, giggling softly. "Put your clothes on!" I squeal. He chuckles and steps closer.

"Why? Too distracted by my naked body?" He asks, a cocky grin on his lips.

"Paul, put your clothes on you dork" I say, he lets out a mock-sigh, stepping away from him. "Alright, alright, I'm putting my clothes on" He starts putting his clothes on, and I do feel a little sad, he was so pretty naked, damn wolf genes didn't do that, he was perfect beforehand. I stare at him some more, particularly enjoying how the sun hits his eyes, making them sparkle as he grins down at me.

"We have the whole day, what shall we do?" I ask.

"Well, sweetheart, we can do whatever you want. We could stay here, go to mine, hang out at the beach" He suggests as he walks to me, he wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tight to him. My mind flickers back to Bella momentarily, but I shook the thought, I'd see her tonight...

"Let's go to yours, I haven't seen your mother in a few days, I miss her" I say cheerfully, Paul's mum was maybe the nicest woman in La Push, and secretly I think she liked me more than Paul.

"Yeah, sweetheart, we can go to my place, let's go" He takes my hand in his, his grip tight on my hand as he begins leading me out of the woods.

Taglist:

@jaybbygrl, @strayteez3staner, @8crazy-freak8, @idontliketoread2137, @bonni-98

#fluff #twilight imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine

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cobaltperun · 1 year ago

Text

Genius (9) - Haven't Had Enough

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word count: 3.1k

-Testing, testing, I'm just suggesting, you and I might just be the best thing-

The sound of some bird pecking at the tree near her window made Cairo groan as she turned in her bed and covered her head with the pillow. She thought she’d be used to different sounds wild animals made near her house, but no, she still occasionally woke up. Once upon a time she thought it had something to do with the fact that she lived alone, so sudden noises woke her up due to survival instinct or something. It was still annoying,

Well, she probably wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again, so she pushed the pillow off her head and turned to lie on her back. She blinked and glanced to the side, to an empty side of the bed. She was yet to figure out if you were a morning person or not, but you definitely handled mornings better than she did, and though she was still sleepy, she smiled rolling over to your side of the bed and just took a deep breath. The two of you gave up your weekend getaway, but yesterday was still wonderful, and Cairo loved having you around. She grabbed her phone and quickly typed: ‘I’m awake, come and read?’ she sent to you, not yet ready to leave the comfort of her bed.

What she didn’t expect was for you to come in, acoustic guitar in hand. “Can I?” you asked, lifting the guitar up a bit as Cairo sat up, curious.

“Sure,” she told you, smiling a bit.

You sat at the foot of the bed, facing her with the guitar on your lap and though you were using a different guitar she recognized the melody of the song you played on your first date. Could she call it a date? Hanging out? The first time you were all alone in years and catching up.

She still didn’t know what the song was, even though she pestered you about it yesterday as well. You just smiled and refused to tell her.

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing,” you actually began singing and her eyes widened, she didn’t realize you could sing. You kept singing the song she has never heard before, though it did sound vaguely familiar. “I could stay lost in this moment forever, where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure,” you looked at her so softly she nearly got up and kissed you right then and there.

She didn’t want to interrupt the song though.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, 'cause I'd miss you, baby, and I don't wanna miss a thing,” she saw it in your eyes, the song was meant for her that day as much as it was meant for her right now and she just wished she realized it back then. “'Cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you, baby, and I don't wanna miss a thing,”

You kept singing and the words, the emotion you were putting into the song, the way you were looking at her, like she was the only one for you. Cairo tossed the blanket aside and crawled over to you, not interrupting you, just caressing your cheek slowly, hoping you could see just how much she loved you in her eyes.

“I don't wanna miss one smile, I don't wanna miss one kiss, well, I just wanna be with you, right here with you, just like this,” you leaned to the side, kissing her open palm. “I just wanna hold you close, I feel your heart so close to mine, and just stay here in this moment, for all the rest of time,” you weren’t done, but she just had to kiss you.

Her lips met yours and she heard you putting the guitar next to you before she felt your hands on her sides, pulling her closer. She sat on your lap, her kiss deep, desperate, filled with longing for you once more despite kissing you just last night and she felt a shiver run down her spine as your thumb brushed against her cheek.

“Not a bad way to wake up?” you teased her lightly, still holding her close.

“The perfect way to wake up,” she sighed, kissing you once more.

~X~

You never thought anyone could have this kind of an effect on you, that anyone could make you this reliant on their presence in your life. Yet, here you were, parking your motorcycle in front of Cairo’s house first thing in the morning. You managed to somehow spend the last night apart, and you woke up to your phone ringing as if the world was ending.

Not that you minded, Cairo being possessive was probably something you should have expected. You took your helmet off and entered the house. “Cairo! I’m here!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, because damn this place was huge.

“Upstairs!” she yelled back, causing you to make your way to her room. You knocked, because why not and you could swear you heard her rolling her eyes.

“Come in,” she sounded amused as you opened the doors and stepped inside her room. “Hey,” she was still in her pajamas as she closed the distance between you and gave you a quick, soft kiss, the pure contrast with the hungry kiss from last night when you were leaving.

“Hi,” you smiled, still not used to being like this with her.

“Should I wear a skirt or shorts?” she whispered as her fingers crawled up from your waist to the back of your head. There it was, Cairo’s insatiability, her need to be loved, desired, yearned for.

“Tempting, but option C, jeans, tracksuit pants, whatever, you’re not getting on my motorcycle unless you’re dressed properly,” you pulled her closer to you as she jokingly pouted and then leaned her head on your shoulder.

“So cruel to your girlfriend,” she sighed, lamenting and cursing your cruelty toward her wardrobe.

“Mhm, so very cruel,” you agreed, pulling away from her and heading outside.

“How about you stay and watch me change?” Cairo called out.

“Tempting,” you laughed. “Did you eat anything?” you asked, already at the doors.

Cairo shook her head. “No, I dozed off after I called you,” she said with a hint of embarrassment in her voice, and that explained why she still wasn’t ready.

“I’ll go make you something,” you promised, and that was perhaps the best decision, as her stomach complained at that exact moment.

Cairo blushed and went to the bathroom while your laughter resounded through the house.

~X~

The two of you, and Winnie, came to the class, a few minutes earlier than necessary, but still later than Cairo and Winnie usually arrived. And it showed, as the damn man waiting in the classroom looked like he was abandoned until he saw Cairo walking in hand in hand with you. You noticed his back straightening when he saw your and Cairo’s hands still interlocked.

“Hello!” Winnie greeted him enthusiastically and dropped her things on her table.

“Good morning,” Cairo greeted him, though not as enthusiastically as Winnie and you just sort of nodded in his direction until Cairo nudged you with her elbow.

“Morning,” you grumbled, for you were whipped.

“Good morning,” he replied, his eyes still on Cairo’s hand.

“Oh, lovebirds got together, I think their hands might be stuck together,” Winnie laughed when she noticed Miller’s reaction. “They only share your class, so you’ll have to forgive them.”

“Right, of course, it’s not a problem,” it definitely was a problem, you could see it in his eyes, and you thought back to him being at Cairo’s place, at his reaction to you coming, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.

And you weren’t sure how you managed not to wrap your hand around Cairo’s waist and glare until the message not to try anything with her got across.

You still smiled when Cairo leaned in closer and got on her toes to kiss your cheek before you sat down at the table.

~X~

It’s intoxicating.

The sensations, the sounds, the smell, the taste, the view.

She was told to write what she knows, and now she knew all of those. The touch of your hand on her skin, the feel of your jacket, or your shirt underneath her palms. The sound of your voice, or the music you played for her. The smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, of you, and the view, you in her room, playing a guitar as she wrote, that smile, that damn smile, innocent or not, that damn, intoxicating smile.

So, she wrote what she knew, inspired, consumed by passion and the need to write. Devoured by her thoughts replaying everything that happened. She tried to make it innocent, to replicate Henry Miller’s style without being explicit, yet in the end she couldn’t restrain the passion, she just, reigned it in, depicting the passion, but not the intimate act itself.

“Y/N,” she called out to you, momentarily stopping the sweet melody you were playing for her. “Could you read this?” she offered you her laptop as you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, of course,” you were more than willing to read, you were just used to Cairo reading to you. Nonetheless, you sat down next to her and scrolled to the top of the essay, and she just watched you.

She watched the admiration in your eyes, the ease with which the words flowed into you from the page, and she knew she did a great job, just from that alone. She watched as you realized who the characters were, and she knew the exact moment you realized it. You read about the letter, and your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you didn’t stop reading, not even to look at her to check if you were correct in your assumption.

Cairo took notice of every small reaction you had, the way your fists and jaw clenched, your eyes narrowing in anger, and she knew which part caused those feelings as well. She watched you struggle to swallow as your free hand grasped the sheets of the bed the two of you were sitting on, you reached that part. “Damn,” you hissed, breathing in sharply and just for a moment you glanced at her, at the mischievous, yet proud grin on her face.

“Keep going, my madness,” she whispered, tilting your head to the side so you would keep reading. And then she just lied down, still watching your expression as you returned your attention to her essay. When you were done you set the laptop aside and sighed.

“Did you feel like this? Before I came on Friday?” you asked her and she adored you, out of all the parts, you chose to ask about that first.

“Mr. Murphy looked at Alice, loomed over her, making her feel as if she lost all control over the situation. It wasn’t meant for him, but he couldn’t know that, and Alice knew how alluring she looked, and she saw in his eyes the temptation he was about to give into. She dreaded it, now knowing she should have stopped his touches, innocent, supportive at the first glance, but she didn’t,” she recited, repeating the words she wrote in her essay and watching you as your face twisted into the image of fury, the anger directed at Miller threatening to consume you. And Cairo wondered if she should have read it to you. You memorized it now, entirely and without a single mistake, knowing exactly what she felt in the brief moments before you arrived, while she was all alone with Miller.

“I should have punched him,” you moved as if you were about to get up, to either pace the room, or go straight to Miller’s house and attack him. Or anything between those two options, and Cairo wanted none of that.

“Y/N,” she grabbed your hand and pulled you back, and though you didn’t immediately, or entirely comply with her demands, she still managed to pull you on top of her. “Focus on the good things. You came when I needed you,” she assured you, her forehead pressed against your own, your weight on top of her felt comforting, it felt close, it felt right.

“This is your assignment?” you asked, the anger in your voice fading as her hands roamed your back, and Cairo just nodded. “He won’t like this, Cairo,” you told her. “And it’s got nothing to do with how well you write, because you write amazingly well, it’s the implications.”

It wasn’t like she didn’t recognize that potential issue, but this was everything she promised to write. Written in the style of Henry Miller, unapologetic, something that would no doubt be censored, controversial, he agreed to it, knowing exactly what kind of writing Cairo was going to emulate. He knew, and he allowed it.

And if she, merely eighteen, just barely an adult, understood that she sent him signals she shouldn’t have, then he, old enough to be her father, should have understood the implications of her chosen writer.

~X~

The email she got the night she sent the essay caused her heart to skip a beat. It was short, simple, ‘meet me tomorrow after classes’ and she glanced at you, sleeping peacefully next to her. She wondered if she should tell you, if she should bring you along. That would mean waiting for her, since you finished earlier than her and tomorrow was Friday, so she really didn’t want to make you spend more time at school than you needed to. So, she stayed silent, hiding her anxiety at the brevity of the mail and what it could mean.

She was barely able to fall asleep, and only did so after you, while still asleep, moved to hold her closer. It wasn’t until she was fully wrapped up in your warmth that her own heart calmed down and she could fall asleep.

Tomorrow morning, she woke up the moment you moved away from her, before you even had the chance to get up. “Y/N,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Hey, sorry I woke you up,” you whispered apologetically, but she just grabbed your waist and pulled you back until she could tuck her head underneath your chin. “Cairo? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” she lied, not yet ready to be without your warmth.

“It’ll be fine, it was just a dream,” you whispered, your fingers soothingly running through her hair.

She nodded, though she couldn’t shake off the bad feeling.

When she finished her final class and was about to head to Miller’s classroom, she was a nervous, anxious wreck even though both you and Winnie tried to get her to relax and calm down. She didn’t tell either of you what was going on, she just made-up different excuses she knew neither of you were buying.

She packed her things, made sure everything was there and got up from her seat. She nodded goodbye to the teacher and went outside, last, with no one waiting for her. And then she saw you and Winnie standing there.

“What are you-“ she just stood there, shocked.

“I figured it out,” you sighed, pushing away from the wall and taking her hand while Winnie went to her other side and put her arm around Cairo’s shoulder.

“Mr. Miller didn’t like your essay?” Winnie guessed.

“I don’t know. He asked me to meet him after classes today,” Cairo finally told you and Winnie, and despite the dread she felt, she felt calmed now that she no longer had to hide it.

“We’re going with you,” you left no room for argument.

“What the biker girl said, I’m sure it’ll be fine, but we’ll be there for you,” Winnie agreed.

And Cairo, she felt better. “Just stay in the hall,” just the fact that she had you and Winnie in the hall would be more than enough, and while you sighed, not liking that she would be alone in the classroom, you reluctantly agreed.

The doors of Miller’s classroom felt daunting, it felt like going into the lair of a wounded beast, and she wasn’t sure if she could do it if she didn’t know she wasn’t alone here. She knocked and came in, her eyes meeting his own, filled with fury.

“You asked me to come and see you,” she said as she closed the doors behind her.

“I did,” she watched as his jaw clenched and he tossed the papers, she guessed her essay to her desk, only for them to slide off to the floor. “What were you thinking?”

She crouched down to pick the essay up and when she looked up, he was already standing and was closing the distance between them until all that stood between them was the table and two chairs.

“I did your assignment, in the style of Henry Miller, as you agreed,” she didn’t allow her voice to show any signs of her feelings, she forced herself to sound confident, to defiantly look him in the eyes.

“You weren’t meant to write porn. Alice felt her innocence being stripped away from her by her lover, as aroused as she was, she felt no pain, only the deep desire and need radiating from both of them as she was taken, her body adjusting to the sensations of being full,” he repeated a section of her writing.

“I think it’s rather tame compared to Miller,” she defended her writing. “It’s erotic, pornography would have been much more explicit,” she said.

“Enough!” he slammed his palm on the table, and she flinched at the resounding force of the impact. “Not only is the writing inappropriate, you depicted me as a predator, as if I was about to fuck you whether you agreed to it or not!” he yelled. “And don’t even try to pretend it isn’t me, you and L/N, you wrote everything that happened, you-“

The doors slammed open, and Cairo turned around as you came in, quickly followed by Winnie.

“And you brought them here,” Miller turned away, shaking his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he then turned around, pointed his finger at Cairo and with fury in his eyes said the words that made her feel nauseous. “I won’t even let you rewrite it, I’m failing you.”

A/N: Thoughts?

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy @lifeforsimp13

@puta1 @minnyyminny

#cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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manchesternh · 3 months ago

Text

Mosaic Art Collective is a name I'd heard before I stumbled upon a call for the "Illusions" show, a show focused on blacklight-sensitive and psychedelic art which opened February 8th 2025 in the Hanover Street artspace. I've never been to one of their events but Mosaic shares the space with "See Saw Gallery," a spot where I participated in a group show last year, so I knew what to expect when stepping off the elevator. Still, my expectations were exceeded. Shows I've seen so far in Manchester haven't reached, in my opinion, the potential we hold for an active and imaginative art scene--usually the works featured are small, grouped together without much apparent concern for their interplay, and made of materials available to middle schoolers. As grateful as I am for shows that allow for that kind of work, my hopes were that "Illusions" would exceed those limits, that something would take my breath away. Overall I was not disappointed.

Coming down the hall and stepping into the dark, blue-violet rectangular rooms, you might get caught on the first few pieces in the entryway. These are geometric, sometimes abstract, and have low blacklight reactivity, though they are visible enough. Though I am drawn to abstract work, I am a postmodernist at heart, which is why I found "What if I Made a Self Portrait in Minecraft?" very funny. It is a piece that demonstrates the sort of rote mechanical grind of pixel art, painting squares, and playing Minecraft, all at once, and a portrait to boot. Is this how we chose to see ourselves? In our component colors, our most simplified pieces?

What draws the eye, after one crosses through the hall, is Marisa Egerstrom's "Flores: interstellar mycellium." This is a (roughly) six foot tall sculpture of a sort of luminescent alien flower. The petals are tessellated glass, giving them a sort of scaly look. The stem and stamen house a series of light-up bulbs which slowly blink at different rates, some changing color. It's the kind of piece I would absolutely put in my house, a collaboration of beauty and danger and whimsy which demands that we ask: what if a house plant was going clubbing?

At this point I must admit that my usual method of noting the names and titles of artworks--that is, taking a photo with my phone--was ineffective due to the lighting state of the space. I didn't notice until afterward. This is unfortunate, because I can't name the artist of the piece which is still bouncing hardest around my mind--a sort of stop sign with a styrofoam emerging from it. The face is split in two, with a duct tape mouth and a pensive expression. It makes me think of a person in two minds, and also someone being silenced. I suspect the zine hanging on the wall to the right of the piece explains it a little more, but I was too shy to pull a little paper booklet off the wall and examine it--and the light wasn't ideal for it. Still, I found myself in the position that the best art puts me in, where I am contemplating a message and meaning rather than simply admiring imagery.

Another piece that invites deeper introspection is "Mabel," a statue of a horse painted with checkered print. It's larger than a cat and surrounded by framed 4x6 photos of itself, and various other figures, in different settings, expressing the tendency of Mabel to travel. The statue marks the room's left far corner, and begins a segment of the room dedicated mostly to images of animals and creatures. For instance, "Don't Separate The Party or We're Getting the Band Back Together" is a tiny little pen drawing of creatures--an alien, a deer, a cat, and a skull--in the woods. Their eyes all luminance with a dab of neon paint, a striking effect. The frame is wood, echoing the forest setting of the image. I was impressed with the consideration given to presentation and the vaguely referential title--is this an adventuring party, like in a game? Am I an enemy combatant, to be on the receiving end of such a stare?

Amidst the creatures and woodland artifacts is a stand out piece, Marcia Wood Mertinooke's "Dream of Creme," a temptation for fans of miniatures that depicts the Cremeland drive in signage. Neon thread is used to create the neon sign effect, and it absolutely glows in the blacklight as intended. This might be an opportune time to mention that some pieces, like this one, really utilized the lighting well, while others failed to employ it or were failed by it. Fluorescent paintings or yarn pieces glowed impressively, but other works sunk into the shadows or paled in natural light from the window. I don't think this was a failure on the gallery's part as it's a small space and only so much direct black light can go around. One effect, however, was that I overlooked a few pieces until I set my phone camera on them, and then they came alive on the bright screen where before they'd been unimpressive.

Lofi music is playing at just the right volume in the space on the night of the opening. There's a crowd a half hour after doors, at least twenty people clustering around the small room or in the smaller adjacent nooks. It's a nice turnout but doesn't impede the art-gawking, unless you're impatient or can't follow the flow of traffic. Additionally I didn't feel overwhelmed by the number of works or their density. There was enough there to keep my interest and make it feel worth coming out but not too much.

Mosaic is in their third year of doing shows on Hanover street, according to Liz, the curator of "Illusions." Their next big show is centered on the concept of motion and kinetics. Illusions is on display until February 26th at 66 Hanover #201, Manchester NH, during calling hours.

Edit: a reader helpfully attributed the "stop sign" piece to Brenda Noiseux. See replies to this post for their contact information.

#art #artists on tumblr #news #review #new hampshire

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partycatty · 1 year ago

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giggling at this idea i just thought of but would u consider... hear me out... mk1 johnny finding out that reader has a body pillow of him? like those anime ones but bcs he's a celebrity, someone made one of him too 💀 & reader secretly bought it and tried to hide it/deny it but johnny sees all fr fr

i wrote this and then it got DELETED i almost cried

johnny cage > superfan

johnny never visited your place, but now he sees why.

notes: the way i used to unironically have a bodypillow of a character i'd rather die than admit... this hits so close to home

[ masterlist ]

you and johnny were an unlikely pair in the grand scheme of things. you were a toned down worker in your own field while his face was plastered on every billboard, magazine, and teenage girl's home screens. at the end of the day, though, you were both humans in love and that's all that genuinely mattered.

johnny's arm that was slung around you as you two cuddled on his couch shakes you back to reality.

"you know what's funny?" he suddenly brings up, closing the tiktoks you were watching together. "we always come to my place. never yours. i've only ever seen the inside when i pick you up."

there wasn't a hint of annoyance or accusatory language in his voice; he was curious. as he typically is.

"i don't know," you shrug nonchalantly, hoping to get the topic over with. "your place is nicer." this was entirely true. despite downsizing after his divorce and other events he has yet to disclose to you, he still had a truly nice home. it radiated the energy of a celebrity without needing the size, but was just homey enough for you to spend your nights there when you felt like it.

"so?" his eyebrow quirks up.

"so, it's better to hang out here. my apartment isn't all that exciting, not a lot of room to do much."

"but it's the person that excites me," he replies quickly, kissing your forehead. "plus, all we usually do is sit on my couch here. what's the difference of doing it there?"

as your mouth opens and closes to try and dismiss the subject, johnny turns to face you completely with a beaming grin.

"can i come over tomorrow?" he asks, like it's your first date with him. his eyes are bright, like a kid asking for permission from his mother. you couldn't even bring yourself to look him in the eyes as you swallow hard. there wasn't necessarily a true reason to not have him over, but preparing for his arrival would take a considerable amount of effort to... redecorate. finally, you nod with a sheepish smile, and johnny plants a slap-like kiss to your lips as a thank you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the following morning, you were throwing your piles and piles of collectibles into boxes and shoving them into your closet. the replica of his brass knuckles or figurines of ninja mime had to go before he arrived. johnny couldn't know that on top of being his girlfriend, you were a fan. and not just any fan, a superfan. every piece of evidence had to be thrown into a corner lest you face his endless prodding and teasing. besides, even if he was a celebrity, he probably didn't expect his partner to have such belongings. it felt... wrong. but even still, you couldn't help but support him in his works!

a knock at the door makes you visibly jump as you're kicking the last of the merch under your couch. wiping your hands, you race to the front door and take a deep breath, making sure you plugged in your wall scents and lit your candles. you swing it open and johnny peeks his head in, glancing around with his typical grin. he puts his sunglasses atop his head to adjust to the indoor lighting, a curious glint in his eye.

"i don't know what you were talking about," johnny finally says, hands on his hips. "it's nice here. quaint."

"i think that's just calling me poor politely," you reply as you fight a smirk. johnny tenses up, already apologetic before you reach up to kiss his check. "i'm teasing, dear. now what?"

"a movie?"

"not one of yours."

"we didn't even finish citizen cage last time!"

you roll your eyes at his puppy-like stare. you immediately cave in with a huff. as his own version of a thank you, johnny swoops over and picks you up, sure to support your ass more than your thighs as they wrap around his waist. he shoots you a devious grin, as if to say "i can't help it!"

you're playfully tossed onto the couch, and you have just enough time to chuck a throw pillow in his direction as he heads toward your bedroom.

"i'm stealing your comforter," he announces. "since i don't see a regular blanket around here." you gulp, remembering your johnny cage themed throw blanket that once laid on that very couch. thankfully, it's buried under your other laundry.

"not everyone has blankets for every occasion!" you shout back, settling into your new spot and allocating space for his large body. that is, until you hear eruptive laughter come from your room. of course it was johnny, but the laugh was so hysterical, so out of character, you partially wondered if he had gotten possessed. "babe?" as you're about to rise from your spot, johnny responds in an unusually high pitched voice, strained from the cackling.

"why do you have this?!" his grin is audible, dripping from his upward inflection. your stomach drops, but you try to play dumb in case it's not what you expect.

"have what?" your voice is low, unwilling to give anything away. your question is answered when johnny emerges from the hallway, holding up your dakimakura with one hand, slung around its painted shoulder.

your face heats up in record time. it's a drawing - a realistic one - of johnny, laying down. the other side features the same, except blushing and only in boxers. you must have forgot to fully hide it, and left it on your bed like a fool. and what a fool you were for thinking a simple blanket would conceal it. times like these you wish you could afford a throw blanket to bury yourself in it and hope he'd go away.

"if you wanted me in your bed, you could've just asked," he giggles to himself, admiring the possession. "hey, at least they got my features right."

"please put that away before i die of embarrassment," you quietly beg, voice muffled by your head in your hands.

"really though, doll," johnny's smile doesn't disappear, just lessens. "why, of all things, do you own a bodypillow of me?"

"it was limited edition," you mutter. "the artist put it on sale."

"limited edition? you're a collector?"

shit. you sold yourself.

"maybe."

"collector of what?"

"...paraphernalia."

"i could deduce that. i won't judge you, honey." he kneels down to meet your level, putting his hands on your knees as he sets the pillow down beside you.

"i, uh... i collect things. related to you." johnny's face freezes, lip twitching in amusement as you continue to defend yourself. "i'm not weird about it, though."

"except for the pillow."

"50% went to charity!"

"touché. don't worry about it, sugar," johnny kisses your forehead. "there are worse things to collect. if anything, you're pretty lucky to have a famous boyfriend. lots of stuff to collect. you want one of my shirts? i'll sign it for you—"

"enough, enough," you giggle, swatting your hands at nothing. "this is already mortifying for me. you should see the rest—" you stop in your tracks, smile dropping in an instant.

"there's more?" as he asks, you two stare at each other in disbelief. and before you could react, he darts off to your bedroom, pushing himself off of the wall as he nearly runs into it. you shout-laugh as you follow after him.

"JOHNNY!" as you turn the corner to stand in your bedroom doorway, johnny charges at you and slings you over his shoulder. all you can do is half-resist his grip as he swings your closet door open. your legs kick against his body, and you're slapping his back. "DON'T LOOK!!"

"i can't not look!" he protests, patting your ass playfully. his hand falls to his hip as he inspects your crammed closet just as his grin widens once more. "is that a life-size ninja mime cutout?"

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #marley writes ☆

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gaylordscooter · 9 days ago

Text

[A pile of carefully torn-out pages sit stacked neatly inside a drawer]

entry number 1

I've lost everything. my brother, my friends, my house, my universe. all of it is just gone now

to top things off, the last thing i was doing was running away from temmie. i thought they were my friend, but after they got the six human souls somehow, they went on a rampage and started killing the remaining monsters left and right.

the only reason i escaped was because this otherworldly being dragged me through a body of water and brought me somewhere else.

this being's name is ink, they're a skeleton like me—they even look like me.

It was explained to me that my universe shattered from "too many plot holes" and i didn't know what that meant! what do you mean my world has too many "plot holes" it's not like it's a STORY.

WELL APPARENTLY IT IS A STORY. AND I DONT LIKE THINKING ABOUT THAT FOR TOO LONG.

So anyway, alternate realities are in fact real and there's a whole multiverse. Cool. Awesome. I just want to go home and for everything to go back to normal

But apparently my universe is completely gone, it doesn't exist i'm the only thing that remains from it. while there are some universes that have parallel realities mine was the only one if it's kind.

COOL. AWESOME. I'M BEING NORMAL ABOUT THIS.

IM THE ONLY THING THAT REMAINS OF MY UNIVERSE. MY UNIVERSE DOESNT EVEN EXIST ANYMORE. WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO. WHAT DO I EVEN DO? THIS "INK" PERSON IS WEIRD

When I was freaking out about my universe being GONE, he gave me this notebook and pencil to "calm down"

HOW IS THIS SUPPOSED TO CALM ME DOWN?! NOW I'M VENTING TO A NOTEBOOK WHILE HE STANDS THERE WATCHING ME FURIOUSLY WRITE!

entry number 2

It's been a day since my world was destroyed, I already miss my home. I've been missing my friends and brother.

At least Ink let me stick around. I've been staying at his place along with someone else named Dream, but I have yet to meet him since he's never here. It's comfy here, at least. I even have my own room (which looks suspiciously close to my old room actually. i think ink did that on purpose, maybe to cheer me up? i don't understand him).

Right now's around the time I'd study with Undyne, actually...well. at least i don't have to worry about getting into the royal science division.

Papyrus isn't around to read this. I feel bad that I've never told him this, but

I never really wanted to join the Royal Science Division. Even though I acted like it was my dream, it wasn't. I wanted to learn more about space.

but of course that's not possible when you live in the underground. (i guess that's not really a problem anymore? this doesn't make me happy)

and we've always been low on funds. the pay for it was too good to pass up. I've stolen so much just to keep us afloat. I was good at hiding that, though.

Too good. Maybe I should've told Papyrus once he was old enough. He never knew why I was kicked out...

How would I even tell him? There's so much I haven't, because I don't know how to word it.

"By the way, brother! Mom and dad didn't exactly like me 'trying to be someone who i'm not' and disowned me like i disowned my name! That's why we grew up in a scrapyard."

[there are various scribbles and dots here]

"You didn't have to follow me, y'know. you could've lived with them instead of stubbornly staying by my side it would've been easier"

no i wouldve missed him. even if it's selfish i'm glad he tagged along. he was always there for me

i wish i could say the same. I SHOULD be able to say the same but i CANT what poor excuse of a brother am i?

maybe. no. they'll never be right.

entry number 3

I met Dream for the first time. He's really. unique. I know he's dressed like someone straight out of an anime but I didn't expect him to ACT like someone straight out of an anime!

The way he talks, the way he moves. There's something uncanny about it, honestly. He also looks on the brightside like that's the only direction he can look. When he heard my universe was destroyed? Told me at least he's glad it's led to me meeting him and Ink??

Like No Offense To You Two But I Don't Think Losing My Entire Universe Was Worth Meeting You Two.

That's not to say I'm not glad to meet them! I am glad! Just not at the expense of my home and everyone I love!

wait when have i ever watched anime? where did i even learn what that means? it was one of my friends—or acquaintances that introduced me to it, surely. Why can't I remember?

I need to ask Ink something, maybe. hopefully he'll know.

entry number 4

so a consequence of my world shattering is that it's really easy to forget about it. because it doesn't exist.

after ink told me that, i can hardly remember anything about it.

it's like there's a big gap in my memory and all i remember is that i'm forgetting something.

like my scarf. i know there's a sentimental reason i wear it. there was something about it. something about the material it's made out of i think?

Entry number five

i had a brother his name is papyrus

his name is papyrus. he's my younger brother

don't forget him. don't mistake him for the other papyruses in the multiverse.

he woreWhat did he wear? what was he Like? oh my god what was he like

papyrus. don't forget him. he isn't like the other papyruses in the multiverse don't use them as a point of reference don't let them replace whatever memories you have left of him.

"he isn't like the other papyrus's" HOW CAN I KNOW THAT FOR SURE? I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT HE WAS LIKE

entry number 6

The more I learn about the multiverse the more my memories of my universe are skewed. Also I learned (or, heh, remembered) I have memory issues in general on Top of the whole "universe not existing means it's hard to remember" thing.

So that's great

I was being a bit of a downer because of the revelation and Ink caught on so he asked me what was up. I decided to tell him, even though I thought he wouldn't really get it since he doesn't seem to be bothered by anything ever.

Oh man was I wrong. He completely understands

He also has memory issues. He told me he was soulless—which wow, I'm surprised he felt comfortable telling me—which really messes with your capacity for remembering things.

Even though he uses paint as a substitute for a soul, it doesn't fix his memory issues. So instead he writes stuff down on his scarf. He suggested I should do something similar, write down important things.

He told me that even if I can't necessarily hold information in my head for a long time, if I can hold it in my head long enough to write it down, that's enough.

It was reassuring.

entry number 7

Dear Papyrus,

I've seen a lot of different places in the past few days, places I wouldn't ever imagine seeing. Some of them are pretty, some of them are a mess. It's a bit hard to wrap my head around it, how small we are in comparison.

I already thought space was big, learning there were multiple universes made me feel even smaller. But even so, out of everything I've seen. I have yet to find a world like ours.

But if the universe is infinite, the amount of multiverses should be too, right? Another version of our universe, one that hasn't disappeared, has to be somewhere.

I'll look for it.

I'll find it.

I don't want to pretend to be talking to you through letters. I want to see you again. There's so much I have to tell you.

All the lies I've told you. I thought I was protecting you. I was really just saving myself the trouble of explaining everything.

i miss you, bro. i'm sorry i'm the one that made it and not you

entry number 8

i lived in a house with papyrus in snowland sity. i remember it was spelled like that specifically for the sake of alliteration, even though it'd still count as alliteration if it was spelled properly anyway.

i was an intern for the royal science division, papyrus was too but he wasn't all that serious about it. i was friends with the head of it, undyne.

she was real big into gundam anime and tried making those mechs a reality. i helped her with that so i have some experience in robotics and mechanical engineering.

she was able to build at least one functional robot, their name was blookbot. they were the underground's biggest music artist. i was a pretty big fan of their music

i went to college and got a degree in psychology. i was supposed to go to medical school, but, i either failed my classes or didn't make it in i think. or maybe i couldn't afford it.

there were a few humans that lived underground, under queen toriel's care. she had a polices about not killing humans which some monsters didn't agree with, including her own (now ex) husband who thought she was prioritizing humans above her own people. technically she was prioritizing humans, in a way, since we kinda need their souls to break the barrier—but hey all those humans fell down as kids im not gonna blame her for deciding against killing. and those humans specifically weren't to blame for us being trapped underground, it was unfair to fault them for it.

there was a group of monsters that did take action against these policies. the rebels, they called themselves. it was a straightforward name. they managed to kill some of the humans that's fallen down, specifically the ones that decided to leave the safety of queen toriel in favor of finding a way out.

while the amount of monsters that were apart of the rebels was pretty low, there's always been a threat of a civil war over the queen's policies. the main thing preventing it was that everyone was very much aware that a civil war could spell the end of monsterkind. so the monsters that disagreed with her policies kinda just, went deeper into the underground and were left to their own devices.

temmie was my friend. i thought. they were...a peculiar being. not quite human or monster, they were a sentient plush toy. they were very vocal about thinking queen toriel was dumb for not just killing every human that fell underground and that if she did, we'd have enough souls to break the barrier by now. but to my knowledge the rebels only have two souls in their possession and there's five that live with queen toriel. we'd be missing one

hah! i remembered all that! fuck you, multiverse!

hopefully this information is accurate. god

entry number 9

MY NAME IS NOT BLUE. ITS SANS HOW THE HELL DID I FORGET THAT???

Ever since my universe was destroyed Ink's been calling me "blue" like that's been my name my whole life and i ended up forgetting that it's NOT!

GASLIGHTING! ME!

Only reason i remembered was because someone called me sans while we went out to a different universe to eat.OH YEAH SPEAKING OF THIS UNIVERSE

It's SIMILAR to mine, not quite the same but it feels much more familiar than the other ones have so far

they're called "Underswap" universes, because some people "swap" roles and personalities with someone else.

Ink calls my universe "Botchedswap". not that flattering of a name but i suppose it makes sense now that ive seen underswap

so like. is my universe just a "botched" version of that universe?? or variant, that's what ink calls them

variants are universes that derive similar traits to the "main" universe they're based off of. so like, botchedswap is an underswap variant since it's based on it. BUT WHO IS BASING IT ON UNDERSWAP? WHAT EXACTLY DOES THAT MEAN? IS SOMEONE WRITING THIS? IT'S A STORY. THATS WHAT INK TOLD ME

i haven't really thought about how this is all a story after ink told me. i've kinda been avoiding it. it's like my mind automatically yanking my hand away from the stove, it's hard to think about it

i guess im sorta not supposed to know about that?? i mean. this is like some horrors beyond my comprehension probably. definitely, what the fuck do i mean probably?

so if this IS a story. i'm a character in it then? I'm probably a background character aren't i? i probably hardly even show up. who's the main character? would it be ink? oh then i probably wouldn't be a background character at that point.

That's so weeeird. If i was a main character that'd mean a lot of people saw my every move! Horrible! Or i guess not, why should i care what the hypothetical audience thinks about me?

Geez, there is an audience, isn't there? Unless this story's private or something.

I'm writing something down right now and im in a story. That's pretty weird. What if I wrote a story then? That's a story in a story, would that make that story more fictional than me?

wow im a fictional character.

The dread's not really hitting. Is that because i'm unable to or because i actually don't care that much? Is the writer of the story controlling my every move. What does this say about my capacity for free will. What does this say about everyone who isn't "on-screen"?

WELL. GOING OFF THE IDEA THAT I AM NOT A MAIN CHARACTER. THAT MEANS IM NOT BEING WRITTEN ABOUT THEN. WHICH MEANS THE WORLD DOES CONTINUE ON EVEN WHEN THEY AREN'T IN THE STORY.

OK MAYBE THE DREAD IS HITTING. IS THE AUDIENCE LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW? CUT THAT OUT!

WOWZERS, I AM A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. ok what do i do with this information. this is weird. im not supposed to know this right? well, ink told me so i guess it's allowed???

quick write something to show i have free will. uhhh what was that saying. from uhhh that one human. rene descartes?? is that how you spell his name. there's an accent on there somewhere

cogito, ergo sum

yeaaahhh yeah. i leaned that phrase from my philosophy class. i dont fucking remember what that means, go me

entry number 10

Wowzers, it's been a second since i opened this thing up! Welp, I'm in a much better spot now. Kinda embarrassing reading back on these entries now.

These are pretty personal too. I don't really wanna continue writing entries like this, I was never big on diaries cus I hate reading back on them.

So I ripped these pages out! I can't just waste the rest of this journal, the paper's pretty good quality. plus it's a gift from ink technically

But I can't just toss these pages out so I'm putting them in my bedside drawer. I'll probably forget I did that so this is sorta like a time capsule, I suppose.

So if i have rediscovered these pages, Hi! Hello! Future, hopefully-even-more-well-adjusted-me! Probably shouldn't destroy these pages because they have important memories written down in them! Push past the cringe of seeing me in agony! Or rewrite some of the key stuff, i dunno.

If you are not Blue, Sans-from-Botchedswap The Skeleton,

FUCK OFFF!!!! BARK BARK BARK BARK!! STOP READING THISSSS IT'S EMBARRASSING COME OOON. or hi ink, i told you NOT TO SNOOP IN MY ROOM!!!

On the off-chance you are not from my plane of existence, uhhh I guess i can't stop you? And i guess i shouldn't care since i won't see your reaction nor can you tell anyone about this so. whatever. go at it, voyeur.

not the right word to use sorry. yeah no. wrong word. not what it means.

See this is why it sucks knowing there's an audience what if i say weird shit!?!? Ughhhh. probably shouldn't care about it, but alas, my feeble soul, i am sensitive that even the possibility of the hypothetical audience thinking im weird hurts me so

#blue's (totally not diary) log

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jymwahuwu · 2 years ago

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♡. You can ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable! (Fem! Reader)

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I'm thinking about Yan! JingYuan x Magical girl! Reader lately...

You and JingYuan are friends, And he's the only person who knows your true identity as a magical girl! You often come to him because JingYuan often gives you your favorite food as a token of his gratitude for helping maintain the security of Xianzhou.

But all that changed when he confessed his love to you :( A magical girl cannot date

Even though he was really hurt, he still loves you and still showering you gifts :(

One day, he gave you a glass of hot tea, After you drink it, your eyes become heavy and... You passed out. That night, you wake up and find yourself tied up shibari style, And in front of you is JingYuan...

"Are you awake? You're in...ah I'd better not tell ^^, Anyway, I plan to keep you here"

So yeah then he fucked you ^_^ You couldn't do anything because your magic wand was in his hand, and...he was bigger and stronger than you

"ah, even without magic wand you're just an ordinary girl, but that's okay...you're still adorable ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა"

Then...You know the magical girl's magic wand, right? Yes...he also...put that into you for anal stimulation ^^

IM SORRY IF ITS WEIRDDDDDD

love your writings btw, mwwwah♡♡

thank you so much! mwah ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡

CW: yandere, non-con, sleeping pills, kidnapping, magical girl! reader, anal stimulation

Magical girls…and anal stimulation…I laughed. This is interesting😹okay, this may happen in a modern AU, or who knows, there are so many civilizations in the universe, and there are magical girls on your planet🤷‍♀️This is normal.

It's really sweet to be friends with Jing Yuan. Maybe when you were discovered by Jing Yuan, you asked him to keep this secret, and then you started a friendship. He treats you like one of those standard male protagonists of shojo manga - romantic, considerate, and sweet. You don’t need to wear a mask in front of him because Jing Yuan already knows your secret!! Your second identity!!

But the confession stopped that. You found candles arranged in the shape of hearts and a cake, and your heart sank. Jing Yuan confessed to you, but magical girls cannot fall in love! Jing Yuan obviously did not expect to be rejected. He looked at you like a big cat soaked in rain, and after a few minutes he forced a smile. It's okay. At least share this cake together? He still gives you gifts like a considerate friend >_<

Jing Yuan has already started planning. He put the medicine in your tea, knowing you would drink it. At the last second before falling asleep, you caught a glimpse of the general's smile. And shibari style😹😼He won’t necessarily tie you up. Maybe Jing Yuan can add an electronic collar to you with a tracking function. But if you are tied up, the general will slowly do it himself. Put the rope around your chest and private parts, protrude your body part, and rub his cock between your legs. No penetration, just friction. Still need to wait for you to get up and have sex and make out for the first time because the general is really romantic at heart u_u (💀✋💔)

It's shocking to wake up and find yourself tied up, right? And Jing Yuan told you to stay with him!? Jing Yuan really likes you wearing the soft fluffy uniform skirt and high stockings, and your hairstyle, but it doesn't matter if you don't have it, you are still cute. He gave you a long kiss, stirring your wetness with his tongue, and lifted up your skirt and panties. You acted like you were inexperienced - not used to being kissed, you were sobbing in panic, and he noticed it all. His cock twitched in his crotch. Pull one of your legs up to expose your folds and clitoris. The round and thick tip was soaked with some of your transparent liquid before it was thrust into the tight and unskilled inner wall. Your moans are cute, like kitten meows.

Jing Yuan thought of those magical girl animations and wanted to know if you had a way to repel him now - did you use friendship, love and memories to repel the enemy before? He was teasing this in his heart, but did not say it out loud.

And before you wake up, Jing Yuan searches your clothes for any magical girl objects. If there were those shiny and gorgeous music boxes or mirrors, and ordered the assistant to lock them in the deepest part of the interstellar bank's vault. The security system and escorts there are the best. And your magic wand, Jing Yuan once considered breaking this, but thought of a better use ^_^

After filling you up, Jing Yuan took out your magic wand, and your tired eyes suddenly lit up - as long as you retrieve the magic wand, you have the ability to escape from here! However, his thumb on your butt circle, caress, massage, apply lubricant, and insert some with his fingertips. With tears in your eyes, you didn't dare think about that possibility, you could only ask. "Jing Yuan…what are you going to do…" The magic wand has gradually penetrated and stretched your ass, inserting into it. The magic even trembles unconsciously, stimulating your senses. He muttered in your ear to stop thinking about being a dumb magical girl.

Just like this, lose all your purity and ability to resist him <3

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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atamascolily · 7 months ago

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Walpurgis no Kaiten SIDE:HOMURA trailer reactions

I admit, when this was first announced, I didn't think it was going to be a big deal. I was expecting something similar to the Wnk 1.1 trailer, which had an extra scene tacked on but what otherwise identical to the original release. I was not expecting an entirely remixed version combining both of the previous trailers + new footage, with a lot to unpack!

Because of the way SHAFT creates the films, backgrounds are done separately from character animation and then combined. Still, there's something very eerie about seeing these otherwise familiar shots devoid of people,not to mention the symbolism of the empty thrones combined with the shot of Devil Homura being cast down.

Once again, I repeat my assertion that in spite of their obvious differences, these two spaces are two versions of the same thing--"reality" and "illusion" (inasmuch as those terms apply anymore in this space.)

The shot of the spinning fans and stained glass are from the same location as the staircase tower where the headband!Homura is falling. Also, if you look closely, you'll note a familiar figure in the crossed shadows at the center of the screen, partially hidden behind the fan. Kyubey spotted, this is not a drill.

(How does this space work? I have no idea, but I'd bet money that it rotates so that the orientation is constantly changing, because "spinning in circles" is such a big theme, both visually and metaphorically.)

Nagisa has died and gone to heaven (literally on both counts) and is now consuming a parafait as big as her head. She's never going back, lol.

There is a teddy bear in a cage visible in the background along with a monogrammed "R". Granted, witches are supposed to use runes, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't remind me of Roberta the Birdcage Witch, who appears briefly in episode 10 of the original series. (It contains human legs and not a teddy bear, though.) Considering that Charlotte's birthday candles appear behind Mami in a different shot, it sure seems like witches and attributes of their labyrinth may be openly manifesting in Mitakihara as reality breaks down.

Oh, and speaking of hands, you can see the mark on Nagisa's nail in this shot, so she's definitely still a magical girl.

The bears also appears as winged cherubs in the carousel scene a few moments later. The heralds of the Last Judgement sounding the trumpets? A symbol of childhood innocence? Another spinning thing that goes around and around? Being taken for a ride? All of the above?

Once again, Nagisa and her double are juxtaposed here as mirror images and reflections of each other, and they're enjoying themselves immensely.

This scene of an unknown hand reaching out to caress a comatose Homura's face and examine her teeth like a horse is disturbing and rightly so. I've seen a lot of people saying that this is the same hand that stabs the salamander, and I agree--this is our primary antagonist, whoever she is (pity her nails aren't visible, as that would give the game away).

[As an aside: what is this unknown person wearing, because it sure isn't a Mitakihara school uniform.]

This is the same Homura that is visible through the mirror--their eyes and headbands are the same. I knew something was off about this when I saw it in the original trailer, and now I have proof. Ditto for my assertion that this movie is going to involve constructs and artificial persons--that may be Homura, but right now it's an empty shell with no personality. The real question is why construct it in the first place?

Also, I might be reading too much into this, but I think it's unwise to assume that the hand that is holding the mirror belongs to the Homura reflected within it. I think this is the unknown person (let's be real, probably also the antagonist Homura) giving instructions to her minion/doll/construct/Homunculus. For evidence, I just have a gut feeling that this movie is going to do screwy things with selfhood and mirrors and reflections, and also the background in the mirror appears to be more like the background in the face-caressing shot than it does the background of the sky in the shot itself. We'll find out when the movie comes out what's actually going on there.

Examining the teeth is a Nutcracker reference, but it sure doesn't make this scene any less disturbing.

What happens next is not shown, but given the general theme of "people falling backwards", I expect that this Homura construct will do the same thing. Where else is there for her to go?

The background light in this scene makes me wonder if it takes place at the same time (or at least the same time of day) as Devil Homura falling. And now we get to see the aftermath!

This is the stunned face of someone who fucked around and is just now finding out. Note the crossed shadows over her face (same as with Kyubey above) and how one eye is cover/one wing is still intact--more "half" imagery.

(But who threw her down? Who threw her down?? Did she fall on her own or was she pushed??)

However, you can't keep Homura down for long, and she immediately counterattacks, summoning her salamander (who is now swole as hell) for a power-up. This is the money shot of the trailer and for good reason--it's visceral and compelling. Magical girls are powered by their emotions and here Homura takes the manifestation of all her feelings straight into her heart; it doesn't get any more symbolic than this.

In addition to being straight out of The Adolescence of Utena, what's most striking to me about this scene is how the world is literally dissolving into blood. We saw the same thing in Rebellion when Homulilly manifested, so whatever happens next will likely parallel that scene in some fashion or another.

Also, yes her wings are partially white now. No, I don't know what that means. I don't know what any of the feathers means, exactly.

The giant salamander concerns me: what the hell has it been eating to get so big? Considering that Homulilly's nature is self-sufficiency, i.e. she draws strength from her own suffering, this does not bode well for Homura at all....

Last but not least, we have Madoka surrounded by some kind of "spirits" representing anonymous, faceless young women in virginal white gowns a la Princess Serenity from Sailor Moon. Combined with the cathedral aesthetic, my guess is that these represent the Eternal Feminine within the Law of Cycles and/or Madoka herself, which she is oblivious to. There are 15 of them, as 14-15 continues to be a significant number in this franchise for reasons I still don't fully understand.

There isn't an official translation that I know of, but piecing together the trailer voice-over with what's come before and what people are saying with my rudimentary Japanese, I think it goes like this:

Watashi wa kibou no tomo ni - "I will go with hope" in Madoka's own voice, from original trailer

Zankoku no made ni yasashii kagayaki, - "A cruelly gentle glow", new dialogue, spoken with multiple voices.

kibou wa anata to tomoni - "Hope will go with you" in Madoka's own voice, also from original trailer

watakushi no inori no kigen - "the origin of my prayer", new dialogue, multiple voices, using the formal feminine pronoun watakushi, which no one in the cast has historically used for themselves. Hence why I think these voices are part of the Law of Cycles/the Eternal Feminine - it would make sense for them to use this pronoun!

anata to kanaeta kiseki wa kitto watashitachi o michibiite kureru.-"The miracle I made with you will surely guide us" in Madoka's own voice, also from original trailer.

sono yasashi-sa de anata o kizutsukete shimau - "I will hurt you with my kindness", Homura, new dialogue.

(EDIT: Official English version is up, and I was wrong about the last line, it's "With that kindness, you yourself will be hurt". They also translate the second line as "A radiance so kind, that it is even cruel", which ties back into the imagery for the Law of Cycles and also Homura's remark in the original anime about kindness leading to greater cruelties.)

Also, while I haven't tried this myself, I've seen several fans report that if you play the scene backwards, you get Homura saying "shiawase no tame ni" (for happiness) as she transforms, so it looks like we did get some backmasking, just as I'd hoped, and I'm so delighted to have called that one.

#puella magi madoka magica #walpurgis no kaiten #pmmm analysis

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