#mustard color walls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

Text

To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising star! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

“Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rollo Flamme #twst imagines #Fellow Honest #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #Gidel #Gidell #something no one asked for #Ferro Honest #imagine this #Gino #Ernesto Foulworth

172 notes · View notes

buttercream-princess · 1 year

Text

Modern Will Turner fluffy & spicy head canon x blackfem! Reader

Warnings: Light smut, pregnancy kink, swearing, fluff, edging, mentions of your family members, tattoo's, spanking

(Not edited or proof-read)

Note: I write most of my characters in modern settings, so this won’t be any different. I may write about him in POTC in the future but that’s something I need to chop up. Also first time writing a headcannon, this was fun making, I'm looking forward to doing some more for Will/Legolas/Orlando.

— Will is very attentive and never misses a single thing. Anything you have interest in, he’ll use his own bare hands to recreate it for you. You like candles? Here’s 1kg worth of candles in all your favorite scents. You like plushies and stuffed animals? Build a bear has nothing on Will’s craftsmanship, he made a lifesize teddy for you to cuddle when he’s not around. He’ll even order parts for his creations from overseas, no matter the price tag, to give you the perfect gift.

—- Adding onto how crafty he is, you never have to worry about breaking anything because Will is always happy to fix it for you and he always does so, effortlessly. He’s tactile and amazing with his hands.

—- He knocked down a wall in his house between his office and guest bedroom, renovated the room, painted the walls your favorite colors and furnished it with all your favourite things including a wall hung TV, neon lights, a pink desktop and plants. Just so you can have your own space when you’re at his house. He wants you to feel like his home is yours too.

—- He loves going to IKEA with you, it’s like a playground for him to find things to build for you and your room. When you get Hotdogs in the food court with him later and get mustard on your face, he’ll grab you by the chin and lick the sauce off. Anytime you get food on your face, he does this. Why wipe it off when he can just clean it off you?

—- Will’s intelligence is unlike anyone you’ve met before, but when he’s not using his head, he’s a bit of a himbo, giving off strong Kenergy. He might know how to solve enigmatic riddles quickly and build houses from scratch but he’s clueless when it comes to most general things. He’ll always regard you as the smarter one in the relationship. In his mind you’re everything and he’s just Will. He adores you that much.

—- He has a tattoo of your name and a blue butterfly next to it on his hip bone. This man is whipped. Gone and lost in your love. He’s considering getting your initials tattooed behind his ear.

—- Will’s independent by nature but gosh, he is one needy motherfucker, but in the most adorable way. He’s coming with you to run errands to the beauty store, late night Target trips or waiting in the corner of the salon while you get your nails done. And he’s always paying, he never lets your credit card touch the reader.

—- Will can listen to you talk for hours about your life and yourself. He finds everything about you whimsical, enchanting and seductive. Even if you’re babbling about delusions and made up scenarios, he’ll react with big emotions like it’s happening right in the moment just because he loves you that much.

—- Will collects records that you love listening to. He says, “The record is always better than streaming it.”

—- Will use to only listen to symphonies and classical music before you came into his life. Now, he listens to everything you listen to. He’s fallen in love with Neo-soul and R&B and refuses to listen to anything else.

—- His favorite song is “Stay Ready (What A Life) by Jhene Aiko and forever dedicates that tune to you. Whenever the song plays, he always sings to you, “They say the truth ain't pretty. But comin’ out that pretty mouth the truth is fitting. Cuz you ain't never talkin loud and you know plenty. Yea you know what I'm talkin bout, cuz you just get me, Yea you so pretty”, And he means every word of it. That song was written just for you, he believes.

—- Even though you and Will are just dating and don’t have kids, he always refers to you as “His wife” or “Mother of my children”

—- Will’s favorite part of being intimate with you is undressing you. There’s something about seeing you come undone only and all for him, that makes him want to be closer to you, underneath your skin even.

—- Will love’s quickies and to give you a quick orgasm in the middle of the day. But there’s nothing he loves more than giving you a sensual, candle lit, slow jam’s experience. After a long day at work, expect Will to be ready for you with a bottle of aromatherapy bottle oil, ready to iron out all your tight muscles and kinks. And of course, this massage always leads to him giving you and internal rub down too.

—- Will edges you any chance he gets. Sometimes you just wanna snatch your vibrator off him and hit him with it because he won’t let you cum. But he always lets you finally get off if you ask him kindly. He likes manner’s in the bedroom.

—- He has a pregnancy kink. He always moans about putting a baby in you while having sex. So you can imagine he always wants to do it raw. He always begs for you to wrap your legs and arms around him while he cums.

— He gives you warnings in the bedroom if you’re rushing the pleasure too quickly. Will believes pleasure should be savored and reveled in. Greedily chasing your release and out of warnings? That’s a hard pop to your behind, leaving your cheeks red and sore. But he quickly runs his hand over your skin, soothing you. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. See what happens when you don’t listen? Hmmm?” he murmurs in your ear before sliding two fingers back in you.

—- Only with you, Will reveals how intimidating he is in the bedroom. But in front of others, he’s the most kind respectful gentleman anyone has ever met. All your friends and everyone in your family loves him. He quickly picks up on social dynamics and easily blends himself into the environment as if he was always a part of it. You can find Will at family barbecues, bonding with your uncles over different cuts of meat and taking over the grill, which your father never allows but Will’s charmingly convincing.

—- Will always plays house and dress up with your younger family members. He takes it seriously too. You best believe he’s rocking a blue lid and red lippie with confidence after playing makeovers.

—- Will comes with you to all your social events, he just loves being around you and hyping you up in all settings. You can find him at clubs, bars and music festivals, right behind you, jamming out and spreading the good vibes. He’s even buying you and your girls rounds of bottomless cocktails at brunch.

—- Will’s a fencing prodigy, of course. He also practices MMA. His strength, determination and will is unmatched. You love sitting in the audience of his matches when he’s given trophies, standing the breathless, T-shirtless and sweaty, dressed in his little fitted shorts showing all his business, knowing that’s all yours.

—- After matches in the ring or on the mats, Will just wants to cozy himself up under your shirt, cuddling you and weakly lying against your skin.

#Will turner fanfiction #Will Turner headcannon #pirates of the carribean x reader #Pirates of the carribean fanfiction #orlando bloom fanfiction #will turner x reader #black reader fan fiction #black!reader #black reader smut #will turner smut #will turner fluff #orlando bloom smut #orlando bloom fluff #black female writer

427 notes · View notes

whxtedreams · 3 months

Text

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: The weight of the new world is heavy on everyones shoulders. Maybe a card game will help?

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Mentions of loss, mentions of readers mom, mentions of sarah, reader has short hair, depression (myles), everyone just dealing with shit, joel trying to explain to reader that her dad is just a lil sad.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

The horizon is bathed in a soft, hazy red glow, casting a warm hue across the landscape. Down below in the valley, a thick, dense fog weaves its way amid the mountains, slowly creeping up the sides like wisps of cotton. Scattered across the valley floor are various transmission towers, their metal skeletons once humming with activity. Now, nature begins its slow takeover as they lay dormant on the forgotten grounds, vines twisting up the towers and trees gradually swallowing them into their embrace.

The sun makes its slow descent behind the towering mountains, its last rays casting long shadows over the valley below. The moon takes its rightful place high up in the heavens, overseeing the narrow hiking trails snaking through the terrain. You sit at the edge of the rocky cliff, your legs tucked up against your chest as you take in the breathtaking view. Your thoughts drift back to the previous day, remembering how you had explored the valley. You had braved the climb up a fallen transmission tower to cross rapid waters, much to your father's worry.

Your eyes follow as Joel and Tommy appear in your line of vision at the bottom of the steep trail, their rifles held at the ready. They had ventured out around noon, armed with the intentions of hunting, and their efforts are now evident as they make their way up the trail, the weight of a freshly hunted deer in their grasp.

Your face lights up at the sight of the brothers, and you quickly rise to your feet, a grin spread wide across your face. You break into a jog, making your way back to the historic pub where your small group has sought shelter for the night.

You emerge from the tree line and navigate your way through the parking lot, skirting around dilapidated cars and piles of rusted scrap. In the distance, the pub comes into view, standing majestically tall as the last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over its brick exterior. The building takes on a castle-like quality, silhouetted against the orange and red hues.

You struggle against the considerable weight of the oversized front door, your feet shifting slightly on the ground as you summon all your strength to push it open. Muscles straining, you slowly creak the door open, the heavy wood groaning with resistance.

Footsteps echo loudly on the tiled floors as you race through the old building. As you reach the top of the stairs that would have been used by guests during the pub’s prime, you come to a halt in front of one of the rooms your father has started to set up camp in.

He stands with his back towards you, his gaze fixed out the window. Candles on the bedside tables cast a flickering, buttery light onto the mustard-colored walls, the wax of the candles starting to drip down the candlesticks. The rooms are basic but cozy, equipped with the bare minimum - a double bed, a chair, and a floor lamp along with the bedside tables.

You approach him silently and stop next to him, curious to see whatever it is that he's observing so intently. However, upon peering out the window, all you see is the peaceful sight of birds flying to their nests in the trees as the day comes to an end. You glance up at your father, taking in his expressionless face as his gaze remains fixed on the outdoor view.

You observe him closely, noticing the way his eyes glisten and his jaw clenches, a familiar expression that mirrors your own when your emotions begin to overflow. Concern tugs at your heartstrings as you speak softly, the question falling from your lips, "Why are you sad?"

He jolts slightly as he looks down at you, having been lost in thought before your sudden presence pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glances back out the window as the light from Joel and Tommy's torches become visible. His gaze becomes distant as he speaks. "Your mom and I used to visit a lot of places just like this one," he says softly. "She was quite the history buff." He pauses, his words tinged with a hint of nostalgia, before he walks away from the window towards the door.

Your dad's casual comment about your mother catches your attention, and your eyes widen with keen interest. It is rare for him to bring her up in conversation, usually brushing off any mention of her name. So the fact that he's mentioned her unprompted piques your curiosity - and you are determined to grasp onto any details he shares.

You turn away from the window, a question about your mother on the tip of your tongue. But before you can voice it, your father has already made his way halfway down the stairs, leaving you alone in the room.

By the time you reach the downstairs area, Tommy is already hauling the slain deer into the small kitchen behind the bar. Joel, meanwhile, drops his bag onto the counter top with a thud and proceeds to start unloading its contents. He carefully places the assortment of items they'd managed to scavenge on top of the bar.

You clamber onto the stool next to your father as his conversation with Joel ends with hushed voices as your eyes scan the items spread out on the counter. A few sealed packages of food and some basic necessities cover the surface. You cast a quick glance at the finds, trying to hide your disappointment. You understand that survival means only grabbing what's necessary and nothing more, but you can't help but feel just a bit let down.

Your dad's fingers close around a packet of cigarettes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "I can't believe you actually found some," he mutters, extracting one from the pack. He rises from the stool and announces, "I'll be outside." Without further words, he turns and begins to make his way out of the room.

You pivot on your stool, intending to follow your father, but Joel gently suggests it might be best to give your dad some time alone right now.

You reluctantly turn away from your dad's departing figure and return your attention to Joel. With a heavy sigh, you rest your arms on the bar.

Joel pats at his coat pockets, a frown of concentration etched on his face. He rummages through them, eventually pulling out a small yellow and white striped cloth from his back pocket. With an enigmatic smile, he stretches his arm across the bar and hands it to you. You take the item, your fingers curling around the fabric as you regard it with cautious intrigue.

You unfurl the fabric and examine it quizzically, your curiosity piqued. Expecting to find something concealed within, you're momentarily surprised to find it's just cloth. "What's this?" you ask.

A soft chuckle escapes from Joel as he shakes his head, moving to stand beside you. Taking the cloth from your hands, he begins folding it with practiced ease. "It's a bandanna," he clarifies, positioning himself behind you. He then places the cloth on your forehead, skillfully tying the ends beneath your short ponytail.

"Keeps the hair out of your face." His touch is gentle as he removes the hair tie from your hair, allowing the short strands to fall loosely around your neck. Joel moves to stand beside you, and you notice the subtle rise of a soft smile at the corner of his mouth as he carefully adjusts the fabric, ensuring it's secure.

You shake your head to test it out and smile as the hair stays out of your eyes.

Tommy reappears in the room, holding two half-full bottles of alcohol in his hands, his face lit up with an excited grin. "Looks like we're eating and drinking well tonight," he declares with a booming chuckle. He sets the bottles down on the opposite side of the bar and proceeds to scour the cabinets for unbroken glasses.

With a glass in hand, Tommy turns and starts pouring alcohol for both himself and Joel. He pushes the glass across the counter towards Joel and takes a long sip of his own drink. Then, he glances your way, nodding approvingly. "Yellow suits you," he praises, his words accompanied by a small smile.

You murmur a quick thanks in response as Joel and Tommy start discussing their plans for the freshly caught deer. Their conversation fills the background as you fiddle with the ends of the bandanna.

You peer over your shoulder towards the parking lot through the large window. The world outside is steeped in almost complete darkness, the stars above offering minimal light. Your father is seated on the husk of a car, a small lantern by his side and a lit cigarette between his lips, casting a flickering glow against the side of his face that you can see.

Joel's hand gently rests on your shoulder. His gaze meets yours, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he murmurs, a playful tone in his voice. "Why don't we play a game of cards while Tommy cooks us dinner? Let me beat you again."

A disapproving frown creeps onto your face, and you let out an exaggerated huff before jumping off the stool. "You only win because you cheat," you retort, moving towards a table by the fireplace with a pout.

Joel responds with a scoff, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes his seat at the table, retrieving the deck of cards and diligently shuffling them in his hands. "Is that so?" he retorts, his tone both challenging and playful.

You can't help but gloat as you take the cards he's dealt. "Tommy told me so," you declare as you begin organizing the cards in your hand, the hint of a smirk on your face.

Joel responds with a resigned sigh, his focus on sorting out his own cards. "Just because he says somethin’, doesn't mean you gotta believe him, sweetheart," he warns, his tone a mix of gentle teasing and mild irritation. He shakes his head slightly, seemingly displeased with the cards he's been dealt.

You can't help but chuckle as you place down a card on the table. "He told me you would say that," you repeat, your smile widening as you revel in the thought of having anticipated his response.

Despite your smug attitude, Joel remains unfazed. He exhales a deep sigh and places his card on top of yours, matching your play.

Joel ends up winning four times in a row.

Your dad remains mostly withdrawn over the following week, his expression distant and detached. Both Tommy and Joel seem to intervene whenever you attempt to engage in conversation with him, subtly redirecting your attention elsewhere.

You've seen your dad behave this way before, but never for this extended period of time. Day after day, you wake up, silently hoping that it will be the day that he snaps out of it and returns to his usual self — just like he has in the past.

And yet, he doesn’t.

On the sixth day while you sit by the river, lost in your thoughts as you watch the soothing flow of the water, you turn to Joel. "Have I done something to upset my dad?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the concern palpable in your words.

Joel's expression softens as he hears your question. He immediately pulls you into his side, pulling you closer to him. "Of course not, princess," he replies gently, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and tenderness.

After a moment's pause, Joel continues, his tone soft and understanding. "He's just a little sad, that's all," he explains, his gaze fixed on the flowing water before you.

You scowl slightly at Joel's explanation, genuinely confused. "Sad?" you repeat, your voice tinged with confusion. "Why would he be sad?" The situation doesn't make sense to you, and you look up at Joel, seeking clarification.

Joel lets out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours. He tugs gently at the bandanna tied around your forehead, his touch gentle and tender. "He just misses your mom," he explains, his voice tinged with melancholy. "He misses how things used to be, how the world used to be."

You murmur a soft "Oh" in response, leaning into Joel's side as your gaze drifts to Tommy, who is washing his hair on the other side of the river with your dad. The silence that follows is filled with your unspoken questions and thoughts, hanging heavy in the air.

You turn your gaze back to Joel, a slight frown of confusion creasing your forehead. "Why is he missing her now?" you ask. "She died when I was born."

Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly contemplating how to explain it to you. "Sometimes," he begins slowly, "there are things that happen that remind us of something we've lost. It brings back memories."

You fall silent, mulling over his words as you begin to comprehend what Joel is trying to say. It's then that you recall your own fears and how the sight of fire still makes you think of losing Joel. The memory of being caught in the fire still haunts your dreams even years later.

You realize that your dad, like you, must also suffer from the same pain. The memory of losing someone you love can be triggered by the smallest things and bring forth powerful emotions, even years afterward.

“What reminds you of Sarah?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

There's a sudden tightness in Joel's grip on your arm, and you can feel the shuddering exhale of his breath. The mention of Sarah's name brings a flash of pain to his face, as memories of his lost daughter flood his mind. For a brief moment, his grief is palpable.

He's silent, his gaze transfixed on the river, his knuckles turning white as his grip on you involuntarily tightens. After a few moments, he finally speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

"Everything.”

Click here for Chapter 11

Notes

this is kind of a intermission, just a filler tbh. not extreamly happy about this chapter but i wanted to write them travelling before they reach somewhere suitable to stay.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp , @kitdjarin1 , @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @justanotherteen12@lils-1979 @elisha-chloe

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tommy miller

40 notes · View notes

andieperrie18 · 6 months

Text

happiness in exile

series: that vacation you're looking for

pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

warnings: None

a/n: I'm just gonna write... thats all

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

Stockholm wasn't the first place that would pop into Chris's head when looking for an ex-government agent who recently quit due to personal reasons, one that he was very well aware of. He would have assumed that Y/n would rather be out somewhere in a rural area, in a cottage and a garden. Rehabilitating her heart and mind from the stressful job of fighting off bioweapons all while dealing with her breaking her engagement with Leon. As much as the male wanted to leave the woman alone, she was the only one capable of attaining information on his current target right now.

"Claire, are you sure you're giving me the correct address?"

Chris stared back and forth between the piece of paper in his hand and the residence before him, or a bakery instead. The walls are colored a dirty mustard yellow with a wide window with various pastries and a singular door beside it. Above it was an intricate sign, 'Gütiokipänjä Bakery' it read.

"Yes, it's a bakery and if you're standing in front of one, then you've found it," she replied through the other line. The buff male stared at the establishment. There was a pathway beside the bakery that led to a yard. He dared not to enter the said establishment but did take a look through the glass window display.

No Y/n, just a female cashier with a rather unusually large red bow holding her hair in a neat ponytail, she was taking a few customers' orders and a baker with rather red hair and big round glasses putting freshly baked pastries through designated baskets and racks on display. Having had enough of just eye scavenging for the woman he walked towards the door. The male slowly treads to the bakery's door to inquire until he is called.

"Chris?" he spun to see who called him, it was a woman. It took him two squints to finally acknowledge who it was.

"Y/n," she just smiled radiantly at him.

-----------------------++------------------------

Chris was jealous, well a tad bit envious. Envious of Y/n current state in comparison to his. Despite wearing a typical tourist outfit to blend in the crowd, his tired frown had forever etched itself on his face through years of trying to fight against monsters and people who created them for their benefits that had cost him countless lives of his men and women.

And then there's Y/n, who has been a close acquaintance of his after working together in various missions where the BSAA and the US Government needed to work together. And like him, this battle had taken its toll on her too, that was before she left for a rather long vacation.

He wasn't clueless of the sudden end of her and Leon's relationship, aware of the unusual relationship the male has with a female mercenary.

"Soo… its been a while,"

Y/n took her seat across from him at a small dinner table in a relatively spacious room he didn't know the bakery had, it was an apartment space connected to the bakery. It was a bit dim but the slightly large window and the fresh morning sun lit her room without effort.

"It has. I guess you're doing quite well," he replied as he took a small sip of the hot beverage in front of him.

Y/n exhaled as she rested back against the chair a soft smile grew on her lips, and he stared. The usual bags under her eyes were gone, her skin no longer sickly pale, a bit more meaty frame through her simple button-down dress, and her hair is neatly kept and put together, showing her rather radiant features.

“So… You bake?” he asked, as he smiled at how bright she looked.

Y/n chatted to him a bit more about small and simple things. Like how she learned to bake and so, sometimes pulling his sister's name through the conversation. A carefree conversation, devoid of any kind of topics involving zombies and terrorism. Rather refreshing in Chris's ears, whatever Y/n placed in his coffee to have him get laid back at that moment was working. The fresh sea breeze of the Swedish country sweetly crawled over his nape that left him to surrender his back fully on the sturdy wooden chair, the sent of the freshly baked pastries entering through the window. He could've swore that he might have dozed off for a few minutes and Y/n knows it.

"What brings you here anyway?"

Chris heaved a breath as the question he was waiting for came, his lips shut close as he leaned forward, as his usual military demeanor returned.

"We need your help," he muttered with a little struggle, his gaze meeting hers, waiting for her expression to contort.

"We're looking for a weapon dealer who's currently involved with another virus. We don't know its effect, but we think it's related to bioweapons too," he trailed, torn by the slow fading of her warm expression. It was as if he was pulling her back to the reality of where her real occupation lies.

"I'm sorry if I had to barge in through your vacation like this, and I know this isn't a typical one, a lot of things happened to you and I would leave you alone if I could but, I really need your help,"

Chris wasn't necessarily begging, and Y/n wasn't exactly a simple government agent. She was on the job two years before Leon was recruited. And she has a higher status than her ex-fiance, even now. That's why she was able to basically blackmail the higher-ups to give her a break. She's one of the best.

Y/n leaned back and crossed her arms, lips puckered to the left with squinting eyes. Chris felt blue, he didn't really want to force her back to duty but considering her resignation from DSO, he would be lying if it didn't cross his mind to recruit her. Surprisingly, his sister invited Y/n as field advisor for Terrasave a few months ago. So there goes his recruitment.

"I know it's sudd-" he starts, "When do you leave?" she pops on.

Taken aback by her quick reply but he never got to answer back as she left the chair and went to a closet beside her bed. She pulled out a duffel bag and placed it on the bed.

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

there'll be happiness after you

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy vendetta #that vacation youre looking for #chris redfield #claire redfield #folklore and evermore inspired #ghibli movie inspired #kiki's delivery service

71 notes · View notes

linguisticdiscovery · 1 year

Text

Ways English borrowed words from Latin

Latin has been influencing English since before English existed!

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of ways that English got vocabulary from Latin:

early Latin influence on the Germanic tribes: The Germanic tribes borrowed words from the Romans while still in continental Europe, before coming to England.

camp, wall, pit, street, mile, cheap, mint, wine, cheese, pillow, cup, linen, line, pepper, butter, onion, chalk, copper, dragon, peacock, pipe, bishop

Roman occupation of England: The Celts borrowed words from the Romans when the Romans invaded England, and the Anglo-Saxons later borrowed those Latin words from the Celts.

port, tower, -chester / -caster / -cester (place name suffix), mount

Christianization of the Anglo-Saxons: Roman missionaries to England converted the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and brought Latin with them.

altar, angel, anthem, candle, disciple, litany, martyr, mass, noon, nun, offer, organ, palm, relic, rule, shrine, temple, tunic, cap, sock, purple, chest, mat, sack, school, master, fever, circle, talent

Norman Conquest: The Norman French invaded England in 1066 under William the Conqueror, making Norman French the language of the state. Many words were borrowed from French, which had evolved out of Latin.

noble, servant, messenger, feast, story, government, state, empire, royal, authority, tyrant, court, council, parliament, assembly, record, tax, subject, public, liberty, office, warden, peer, sir, madam, mistress, slave, religion, confession, prayer, lesson, novice, creator, saint, miracle, faith, temptation, charity, pity, obedience, justice, equity, judgment, plea, bill, panel, evidence, proof, sentence, award, fine, prison, punishment, plead, blame, arrest, judge, banish, property, arson, heir, defense, army, navy, peace, enemy, battle, combat, banner, havoc, fashion, robe, button, boots, luxury, blue, brown, jewel, crystal, taste, toast, cream, sugar, salad, lettuce, herb, mustard, cinnamon, nutmeg, roast, boil, stew, fry, curtain, couch, screen, lamp, blanket, dance, music, labor, fool, sculpture, beauty, color, image, tone, poet, romance, title, story, pen, chapter, medicine, pain, stomach, plague, poison

The Renaissance: The intense focus on writings from classical antiquity during the Renaissance led to the borrowing of numerous words directly from Latin.

atmosphere, disability, halo, agile, appropriate, expensive, external, habitual, impersonal, adapt, alienate, benefit, consolidate, disregard, erupt, exist, extinguish, harass, meditate

The Scientific Revolution: The need for new technical and scientific terms led to many neoclassical compounds formed from Classical Greek and Latin elements, or new uses of Latin prefixes.

automobile, transcontinental, transformer, prehistoric, preview, prequel, subtitle, deflate, component, data, experiment, formula, nucleus, ratio, structure

Not to mention most borrowings from other Romance languages, such as Spanish or Italian, which also evolved from Latin.

Further Reading: A history of the English language (Baugh & Cable)

#Latin #etymology #linguistics #language #history #borrowing #lingblr #langblr

156 notes · View notes

indigos-stardust · 3 months

Text

four swords doodles I've accumulated (28 drawings of varying sillyness)

feel free to ask me for context lol (tw last image has blood but not well drawn lol)

red and blue^

detective red^

shhhhh he's in disguise...

hes very good at being in disguise

i love green^

like I really love green

i try so hard to not be biased to drawing vio when he has such fun shapes

red, vio, green

expectations vs reality

boy band group but they're all depressed

green loves Hatsune Miku propoganda

red eating dandelions

sigh vio he lost the bet so now he has to be cute "oh you're a great actor vio!!!" "I'm literally aro ace"

blue is so attractive, everyone ^^

red on a hotdog cuz he's my lil ketchup n mustard <3 <3 <3

blue doesn't like winter

uh ohhhh

ig shadow just really likes depressed people (its ok guys he's just cooking them in evil magic he's not gonna eat them, probably-) reds in the cupcake, green is in the bottle, and vio is just being his cute depressed self in shadow's pocket

when you manage to steal the groups depressed emotional support twink

one day hell be chubby, but for now he's just.... :) having some character development >:) he's not ready for healing lol

meep

im sorry for this one actually, but the PARA S I TEE

COLOR??? MOTION BLURR???? GREEN BEING STUPID??? more likely than u think I love green just being stupid as hell

blue spray hosed him in the yard and put him with the laundry afterwards^

vio tapping the glass, trying to study the fourth wall

owh no!! he fwozen <:(

whoopsie daisy

#four swords #fs #vio link #red link #green link #shadow link #blue link #doodles #my art #four swords art #four swords manga #lol enjoy ig #me desperately trying to fill up the fs tag with my kitty bitty executive function

40 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 11 months

Text

Thanks to Ingek73 for sending a bunch of castles for sale. I was particularly fascinated by this mustard-colored house, which was the summer home for the families of the Earls of Kellie and is A-listed as an historic building in Scotland. Located in Pittenweem, Fife, it was built in 1590, and has it's own turret. 4fls., 5bds, offers over £645,000 / $796K accepted and it does need some updating.

Seriously, for under $1M, it's like a small castle. Look at this sitting rooms paneled walls. It's a little dusty, and the floors need some refurbishing.

I don't know if any of the furnishings convey, but look at how bright it is, it's not a dreary old castle by any means.

The original foyer is preserved. I would feel like royalty entering this residence.

This has to be one of the first-ever spiral staircases. Only the wood steps must've been added later. I love this.

The cabinetry is a little too modern, but it has an Aga stove, in blue (love the colors they come in) and the flooring matches.

The kitchen is definitely spacious. I wish that you could paint the cabinets and change out the hardware, but you can't do that with these- they're laminate and have built-in handles.

Hello, lover. This model costs over $32K.

It looks like they may have stripped the carpeting off the floors. This is a nice big dining room with a fireplace and built-in shelving. I can't get over how much light this home gets.

Very nice. This room can be a library or an art studio. That looks like a built-in display case in the middle.

Closeup of one of the beautiful fireplaces. I would like to darken the wood a bit, and take out the orange tinge, but that would cost a fortune.

I would say that this is a bedroom. Everything looks freshly painted white, so it's a blank slate. Nice built-in cabinet along the wall.

Nice bedroom, it has a nook.

Cute little room for a study or home office.

This bath needs some attention.

A bedroom in the process of being packed up.

Ooh, I see a potential craft space in here.

Love the red sink in this nice big powder room.

Here's a cool room. The colors of royalty.

The rooms on this floor are a bit small, but cozy.

Someone really liked red baths. The plumbing fixtures look pretty new, though.

What an interesting room. Look at the beams and the old stove in the fireplace.

The courtyard and gardens have become overgrown and need some cutting back, but they will be beautiful.

There are sea views from the upper floors. A private road provides access to off-street parking, also.

The home is located in the renowned East Neuk arts festival village, and for chocolate lovers, the town has its own chocolate factory.

#mini castle scotland #earl's summer residence for sale scotland #historic homes scotland #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #submissions

147 notes · View notes

teaboot · 1 year

Note

Can I say that I for one completely understand why you love the colour yellow. It has been one of my favourites since I can remember. I wear it rarely (I tend to go for more neutral colours normally, but I do have one or two yellow things - I also like mustard yellow because it's still warm but a bit more autumnal), but I like having it around, it makes me happy, like the first proper warm, sunny day of spring comes and everything is suddenly more colourful and gets you to walk with a bit of a lighter step.

It reminds me of lemons and sand and flowers and bees and sunshine and my grandma's custard that she made me when I was little. It's nice. It's vibrant and just a happy little colour, so I was very surprised to see how many are surprised you like the colour. It's a lovely colour. I frankly get more surprised when people like concrete gray.

I love every color so much!!! I used to hate certain colors because I didn't think they could be pretty but the more I roll them around in my head the nicer they are. "Barf green" is so nice as a powdery soft lime. "Butter yellow" is so nice in wildflowers and nursery walls and cake. Yellow used to piss me off cause it was loud and sharp and hurt my eyes but now that I've accepted it it's so warm and soft and nice

156 notes · View notes

pearbunny · 11 months

Text

the bucket list ✘ [nine]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: 6k

chapter content: m/c and jisung are both in their own anxious thoughts, alcohol consumption, self-doubt, self-sabotaging, mentions of self-worth, explicit smut: oral (f receiving), clit play, breast play, praise kink, pet names (baby, good girl), unprotected sex (don't be dumb; be responsible), cream pie? screen shots: one.

author’s note: I'm honestly a little shy about this one, but also really happy because I feel like i pushed myself as a lil itty bitty author with it. Also, I decided to add the playlist I've made for this fic. It's all over the place; sorry lol. Last warning for minors or those uncomfortable, this chapter does contain smut.

The smell of coffee and books intermingle in the air while a soft jazz song plays over the shop’s speakers. When you asked Jisung if he wanted to do anything while in Busan this morning, he said he wanted to check this place out. It was a very Instagrammable spot, a coffee shop meet bookstore meet vinyl record store. Rows on rows of bookshelves were stocked with numerous books ranging from children’s learning books to historical memoirs. The shelves against the wall were mostly for display purposes, books arranged by the color of their covers versus their title, author, even genre.

Jisung is near the back, checking out the collection of vinyl records they have in store. He has a couple tucked under his arm that he brings over to the record player. He places the over ear headphones on and lets the music fill his ears as he closes his eyes and his fingers drum over the tops of stacked records.

You, however, are seated in a plush mustard yellow velvet sofa, giving the illusion of being deep into a book. You aren’t, though, and instead are lost in your own thoughts, eyes glazed over staring blankly at the opened page. As you replay the previous day’s events in your head, your knee subconsciously begins to bounce under the book you’re supposedly reading.

Why didn’t you kiss him?

The question has been on your mind ever since you got off the Ferris Wheel.

Despite your best efforts to act like everything was okay, Jisung could tell immediately that you felt anxious about something. He would try to make light hearted jokes, make goofy faces at you when you didn’t realize you were straight up staring at him, anything to get you out of your own mind.

Maybe it was just the way Jisung naturally was with people. Maybe he had just been so attuned to you and your moods and thoughts that he could just tell when something was off about you. Maybe you were being obvious.

Sometimes, when you were spacing off, you’d come back to Jisung looking at you with eyes wide with curiosity and concern. You’d feel a lingering touch on you when Jisung would guide you through small crowds. You’d feel him holding your hand for just a couple seconds longer than necessary whenever you reached out for him.

Even now, Jisung’s eyes would find their way back to you in that corner just to make sure you were still there. He takes the headphones off and places his collected records down by the player. He walks over to you and crouches down to sit on the back of his heels, grabbing your attention when he closes the book in your lap. “Come with me.”

You give him the most genuine smile you could muster, one that was toothless and didn’t reach your eyes, and toss the book aside to take his hands as he leads you back to the room with all the vinyl records. There’s a large wooden stand up tic-tac-toe structure in the middle of the room right under the skylight.

“You go first.” Jisung crouches down low to be closer to the wooden board game.

“Okay,” You grab one of the ‘X’ blocks and place it right in the middle of the three by three grid.

Jisung places his own wooden ‘O’ blocks in the bottom left corner. “That wasn’t hard, was it?”

You cock a quizzical brow at him, “What wasn’t hard?” You place your next piece right above your original piece, intending to win by placing your next piece on the bottom row, middle column.

“Making the first move,” He chuckles and eyes you for a moment before placing his piece top left. Jisung knows that your next piece will win the game.

You roll your eyes at his joke, scoffing playfully. You look at the board again, noticing that if you didn’t place your next piece between the O’s he placed on the first column, he would get a match. You completely forget your original plan and place your piece to block his match.

Jisung’s eyes widen at your move. He knows how competitive you are, so he figures you must be really worked up to mess that one up.

“Oh no, fuck!” You realize your mistake almost immediately. You bend down at the knees, feet flat on the ground as you tug on your hair, “I totally missed my chance to win!”

Jisung places a hand flat on your back, rubbing a soothing circle in a clockwise motion, “Hey, it’s okay. The game’s not over yet.”

You sigh heavily and watch him as he places his next wooden piece in the bottom row, center column next to his own piece and underneath your two x’s to block that match. If you hadn’t been so busy worrying about playing defensively, you would have been able to win.

Jisung has set you up again, but he can tell as your eyes scan the last column of the board that has all spaces free, he can tell you’re overthinking it.

Your overthinking leads you to your demise, but also Jisung’s when you choose to block again instead of win, placing your X on the bottom right.

Jisung places his piece defensively this time, choosing to tie instead of letting you win. “Stalemate.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders. He stands back up and holds his hand out to you.

You look up at him with eyes wide, almost pleading. “Again? Rematch?” You grab his hand as an aid up on your feet when he flashes you a lopsided smile.

Back in your hotel room, Jisung is sitting in front of the wall of windows, examining the new vinyl records he bought at the store while you sit on the table, looking at the backs of books you picked up, too. One self help book and another romance fiction book about a girl, a boy, and a satellite. These would be good reads on the plane ride back home.

You place them into your backpack and notice your old leather bound notebook. You take it out and open it to the page of The Bucket List. It had been a couple of days since you last looked at it. You grabbed a pen and crossed out ‘Send a Message in a Bottle,’ and ‘Ride a Ferris Wheel’. You look over the list and its items, wondering what else you’d be able to cross out.

You figured that this journal was forgotten by your mom, seeing that there were items on the list you knew for certain she had done. You knew for a fact your mom had ridden a Ferris Wheel, the most recent one you were able to cross out. You rode a small ferris wheel at one of those traveling fairs when you were younger with both your parents. ‘Go to a Drive-in Movie Theatre’ is also on the list, but you remember when your mom took both you and Robin out to the Drive-In when her favorite film was showing for its anniversary; stating that your dad was probably tired of watching it over and over again with her.

There were a couple of items that made you wonder how old your mom was when she made the list. Things like, ‘Sneak into a museum after hours’ and ‘Go Skinny Dipping’ make you think that your mother was maybe a teenager? Early 20s? You smile to yourself, recalling that your mother was always just a young free spirit.

“Jisung?” You call over to him.

He looks up from the third and final vinyl record he bought, turning his head to face you, “Hmm?”

You lean forward in your seat towards him, bringing your face nearly eye level with his. “Let’s do something on the list tonight.”

Jisung nods and places his new purchases on the table you were sitting at. “Well, of course. That’s what we’re here for, right?” He smiles and takes your notebook into his lap. “What were you thinking?”

“Maybe we could take a cooking class? I saw an advertisement for a couple's cooking classes on the way back from Lotte World.”

“Or,” Jisung brings the book up to his face, covering everything from his nose bridge down. He raises a brow at you, eyes peering over the pages, “We could Go Skinny Dipping.”

You and Jisung had found your way to the beach after eating and drinking at a local wing and beer eatery off the beach. The alcoholic buzz in your system is enough to feel like you’re floating. When you walk, your steps veer a little closer to him, when he says something mildly funny, you’d laugh a little louder than normal and playfully swat at his arm.

Jisung takes your tote bag from your arm and takes the blanket, spreading it out on the sand. You both take your shoes off, and stuff your socks in them to feel the soft and fine sand under your feet while you sit on the blanket. He slips his hoodie off of himself and holds it out for you to put it on, which you do, hugging the soft fabric close to you.

It’s pretty dark out, most of the light coming from the street and the restaurants and shops. You;re a little bit away from all of that as well as the crowded part of the beach. There weren't a lot of people around at all, just the cars passing by on the main road behind you.

You take a deep breath in and inhale the saltiness of the ocean breeze as you try to calm the fast thumping of your heart. It had taken you a lot of self-convincing to go along with the whole skinny dipping idea.

On one hand, you like Jisung.

You’ve kind of felt yourself gravitating towards him more so than in just a friendly manner. Just this afternoon when you picked up the blanket Jisung always kept in his car to bring to the beach, you checked your reflection in the mirror. You wore something very casual, a white loose button up, a black tank top and some loose linen tan trousers. Your hair was half up-half down, makeup minimal given the circumstances. Just a little bit of blush and gloss. All of this was because you admitted to yourself that you had feelings for a stranger you met on the street on your first day in Korea.

When you applied your blush, picked out your outfit, even when you combed your hair, you wondered, “Will Jisung think I’m trying too hard?”

Skinny Dipping would be a step forward in whatever was transpiring between you two. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

On the other hand, you like Jisung.

It’s been years since your last relationship, years since your last anything. You’ve mainly been focused on getting up, going to work, eating, and showering for the better part of those last couple of years. You’ve made up countless excuses of why you couldn’t go out with Robin and the rest of your friends, whether that be to the bar or just on a small shopping day.

You just started getting your bearings straight on your life again and while you’ve definitely had fun the past week, catching feelings for a man on a whole different continent was not something you could have ever anticipated.

And that’s what’s holding you back. There’s a part of you that wants to protect yourself from everything that’s yet to come, but the other part tells you that you didn’t come to Korea just to play it safe.

Jisung has his feet in the sand, both legs bent at the knee in front of him, back curved slightly with his forearms resting on his knees. He observes you for a moment as you stare off into the dark ocean, lost in thought for however many times you’ve done so today; he’s not sure, he’s lost count.

As much as an overthinker you are, Jisung is just as much, but more-so on how other people perceive him. He hides it well behind a small ego well suited for a flirtatious bartender, but its only because of his people-pleasing tendencies. He feels confident when people seem to like him. It’s not him seeking attention – or maybe it is–, it’s him and his fear of letting people down.

Right now, he’s afraid he’s let you down.

He’s replaying everything he’s said and done in his head since you approached him on the street with a bouquet of sunflowers. Maybe he was coming off too strong, maybe you didn’t like him as much as he thought you did. He thinks, maybe that one night was just a fluke, in which if that were the case – Damn.

He fucked up.

But you were still here with him… You slowly stand up beside him, taking a few steps towards the ocean. You stretch your arms above your head, trying to shake off all the thoughts that have been running rampant in your mind. The cold breeze is enough to sober you up.

‘Go Skinny Dipping’, he repeats your words, the bucket list item, in his mind. He’s learned how daring yet indecisive you can be during the past week. He knows that sometimes, you need a little push.

Behind you, Jisung stands up, keeping his distance from you for now. He grabs the back of his shirt from over his shoulders and tugs the fabric over his head. He lets it fall onto the blanket, soundlessly. It’s not until you hear him unbuckling his belt do you get a hint of what he’s up to.

“Wh-what are you–”

“You can look, I don’t mind.” Jisung says it with a smirk on his lips. He knows you won’t.

He’s right, by the way, your head is firmly stuck staring at the ocean. Were you curious? Yes. Of course, but you couldn’t move.

Behind you, Jisung drops his pants and boxer briefs. He rubs his hands together, cold, but also mentally hyping himself up for the waters he was about to plunge himself into. “Gaja!” He runs past you, your eyes widening, and into the ocean. He lets out a low deep wail, goosebumps quickly forming on his skin.

Jisung submerges himself completely in the water, hands forming into fists. When he comes up, he turns towards you and flips his head back so his sopping wet hair stays out of his face. His hand runs over his face, wiping the salt water from his eyes. “Y/N! Come on in!”

Your face reddens watching him. The way the water was sliding down his body in the dark light causes you to subconsciously lick your lips. You cup your hand by your mouth, calling out to him. “How’s the water?”

Jisung brings his feet up off the sandy bottom, treading water while his arms stroke backwards. “Amazing! Not cold at all.” His voice carries over to you, loud, through chattering teeth.

You laugh and go back to the blanket in the sand. You slip Jisung’s zip up hoodie off of your shoulders, then turn back towards him. “Close your eyes Jisung!”

“They’re closed!”

You unbutton your oversized white dress shirt and let it fall on top of the hoodie. You look towards Jisung to see both his eyes open and shift your weight onto your right hip, sighing loudly and dramatically, your shoulders motioning up and down. “Han Jisung, turn around!”

He laughs from his chest and turns his body towards the horizon. “Yes ma’am.”

You eye his form for a moment longer than necessary, just to make sure he wasn’t going to turn around. You cross your arms over your torso and peel your black tank top over your head. You pull at the drawstring of your linen pants and let it fall to the ground. You step out of them and nudge it over to the rest of your clothes with your foot.

You rub at your arms, crossed over your torso, feeling the chill of the night breeze on your skin. You squeeze your arms firmly while you take a deep breath in. As you exhale, you calm your nerves and reach behind you to unclasp your bra and shrug it onto the ground. One arm quickly goes across your breasts and your free hand hooks a finger into the waistband of your underwear, bringing it under your hips and over your thighs to let it drop onto the blanket.

You slowly walk over to the shoreline, the water touching the tips of your toes. You shriek at the cold temperature and Jisung almost turns back in response. Instead, he calls out to you. “Are you okay?”

“You lied, the water is freezing.” As he laughs, you take a couple steps into the water and your teeth begin to chatter. “I’m coming over, don’t turn around!” Steadily, you walk deeper into the ocean until the water comes to mid-chest and you’re behind Jisung.

Your eyes fall on the tattoo on his back. It’s the first time you’re seeing it in its entirety. You’ve seen the top of it peeking over the back collar of his shirt, but other than that, you didn’t really know what it looked like. He spoke about it once when you were getting your own tattoo back on your second day in Korea. An abstract line.

Jisung’s back tenses as your fingers ghost over the design. You start at the middle of his shoulders and run your fingers down, his back straightening with the action. It’s not all solid black, if anything it looks like a trail of smoke, so there were grays in certain areas too. It curved in arbitrary angles and random angles, it made it look very organic and surely one of a kind.

“A friend told me once to keep going,” Jisung’s voice is deep and soft. It takes you by surprise and you retract your hand as if you were burned by it.

“To.. keep going?” You repeat after him, confused.

Jisung nods and hangs his head down low. He brings his hands out in front of him to restlessly play with the water. “To persevere.”

You nod once, though he can’t see you, and bring back your hand to the tattoo.

“He always told me that the path may not be straight, but it will lead you to the destination as long as you’re determined.” Jisung smiles solemnly and when you place your palm fully against his back reassuringly, he relaxes into your touch.

“Don’t look yet, please.” This is probably the fourth time you’ve said that, but you’re nervous regardless of the fact that he has seen every inch of you already. This was different though, you felt emotionally vulnerable, which in turn made you feel physically vulnerable, too. You reach for his hand and he gladly laces your fingers together. He rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand in the water as you stand next to him.

Your lips press together, trying to focus on your breathing to lower your heart rate. You swear you could hear it in your chest. You take a peek through the corner of your eyes to see if he was looking. Thankfully, he wasn’t. You swallow the lump in your throat. “The moon looks beautiful from here.”

Jisung snickers and you’re quick to nudge his arm with your shoulder. “You’re so cheesy.” When he doesn’t stop, you roll your eyes and elbow him again. “Okay, go ahead. Say it.”

“Not more beautiful than you,” He chuckles immediately and even though you knew the exact words that would come from his mouth and the exact way he ended up delivering the line, you blush all the way to the tips of your ears and down your neck.

“You must get so many tips bartending, you’re too smooth with it.” You scoff.

Jisung shrugs and frees his hand from yours, only to wrap his arm around you and bring you close. “I mean it.”

You chew on your bottom lip, the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults again. This is exactly what you were afraid of.

You stare off into the horizon, where the sky meets the sea and let your mind start to race at all of the reasons why your stomach shouldn’t be doing flips, why your heart shouldn’t be skipping in beats, why you shouldn’t feel giddy whenever Han Jisung looks right into your eyes; into your soul.

Through your silence, Jisung senses your anxiety. He looks down at you from the corner of his eyes, still respecting the fact that you didn’t want him looking at you. When you don’t even notice him blatantly staring, he gets worried.

Screw this, he thinks to himself and he steps in front of you, blocking your sight of the horizon. You look down at yourself and he quickly takes your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to look at him. “What is going on in that head of yours, Y/N?”

“You can’t do that.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Do what?”

“Do this whole thing, Jisung!” You shut your eyes tightly, both your hands grasping at his arm. You mean to push him away from you, but you can’t, you don’t want to, not really. “We can’t do this!”

Jisung shakes his head in disbelief. This whole time he’s let you set the pace. He’s let you make your own decisions, to leave it up to you to decide what you two were, but if he didn’t say what he wanted to now, he’d regret it. “But why? Why can’t we?!” His voice is a little more stern. He wants answers, he wants definitive answers.

“Jisung, this isn’t real.”

You weren’t making any sense to him. “What do you mean this isn’t real?.” He drops his hand from your chin to reach for your hand. He places his hand firmly on his chest. “I’m here and so are you, “ At this, he tightens his hold over your hand. “We’re both standing here, and maybe I’ve gotten everything wrong,” His brows are knit together further than before, hoping he could convey the emotions he had been feeling. “But for me, it’s real, Y/N.”

Your eyes shut and you fight the tears. You’re not sure if you’re crying because you’re happy that your feelings are reciprocated or if they’re from feeling so frustrated that Jisung just doesn’t understand why you two shouldn’t be having these feelings.

“What don’t you get?!” You raise your voice just slightly. You want to run, you want to hide, both of which are easier than what you’re doing, confronting your feelings head on.

Jisung sighs in frustration. He brings both of his hands to cup your face gently. He cranes his neck downward, placing his forehead against yours. “I don’t get why you can’t look at me. I don’t get why you’re dancing around the obvious attraction. I don’t get why –”

You jerk your head away, a bold action, and the words that come out of your mouth sting even yourself. “Jisung, you don’t want me. I’m fucked up.” Here the tears fall freely. You’re self sabotaging, you know it, but you have to try and push him away. He has to know. “I’m broken,” Your voice lowers and it’s a struggle for Jisung to hear you over the waves crashing around you both. “I’m not something you can fix.”

Jisung just scoffs at your feeble attempt to dissuade him. “You think I’m not broken?”

You stay quiet. It wasn’t fair of you to assume he didn't have his own problems and struggles.

Jisung strokes your hair, pushing a stray lock behind your ear. You lean into his touch, turning your head back towards him. He was so gentle to you, always so patient. It made all this so hard. "I’m not trying to fix you, Y/N. I’m not asking you to be perfect or even okay everyday. I’m just asking you to give us a shot. Why can’t we just try?”

You abruptly open your eyes. You scowl at him with a tear stained, but your hands over his are gentle. Your face and your words mean to push him away, but everything else in your being wants to pull him in. “Because – Because in one week, I will be back home, Jisung.”

Jisung closes his lids half way and he stares at your lips. “So why…” His voice trails off and he places his lips on your cheek bone. “Are we,” Another kiss on your cheek. “Wasting,” A kiss at the corner of your lips. “Our time?”

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes. You’re still glaring, but he searches for any single sign that you wanted this too.

The sign you give him is more than just a look.

You close your eyes and plant the tips of your toes in the sand as you lean up to cover your lips with his. Your hands travel upwards from his chest to snake around his neck, pulling him closer.

You want him. You need him.

You were so stupid for trying to deny this.

Jisung’s left hand leaves your face to steady you, sliding down your frame onto your hip. He brings you closer, sharing that need and want you feel. His nails dig into your hip as you pull him closer. He pulls his lips away from yours, peppering your jawline with kisses.

Neither you nor Jisung know how you got back into your hotel room. It was a blur. You ran and grabbed your clothes and covered yourself with the blanket while Jisung hurriedly put on his pants and belt and his hoodie.

There wasn’t a moment you lost physical contact. At street corners, he held you against him. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall, you between his legs as he tenderly kissed and nipped at your lips.

“What happens when I go back home?” You whispered.

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.” He reassured you.

He has you pressed against your hotel room door, face buried in the crook of your neck when your hands roam his body to look for the key to the door.

“Key,” You manage out while he continues to suck at the tender area where your neck and shoulder meet. Jisung reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and hands his wallet to you.

You laugh at his inability to do it himself and take his wallet, finding the hotel room key. You turn around to slide the door key into the reader and Jisung once again holds you flush against him.

His arousal is extremely evident and you can’t open the door quicker.

Through the door, you toss your clothes aside and the blanket drops from your body. You work quickly to take Jisung’s hoodie back off before he crouches low to lift you easily by your thighs. Your lips latch hungrily onto his, battling for dominance within the kiss. Each suck, each bite, you return, even as your back hits the plush mattress.

Jisung litters your face with kisses, trailing down your neck and collarbone. His hand squeezes at your left breast as his mouth takes in your right before he leaves both to continue his kisses down your stomach. He places himself between your legs, kneeling on the floor. He tosses one leg of yours over his shoulder and kisses your wet pussy over your underwear.

You whimper in response and your hands automatically find his head. You want to keep him there until the knot in your abdomen comes undone. It’s like he knows what you’re thinking when he hooks your panties in one of his fingers and moves them to the side, flattening his tongue against your wet heat.

You let out a quivery exhale through your lips, tugging at Jisung’s damp hair.

Jisung closes his eyes and focuses his attention on your clit, sucking the hardened nub and pinning your hips down when you attempt to buck up at him. Your hold on his hair is so tight that when he momentarily takes himself off of you, his head tilts backwards. At that moment, he looks at your face and notices your tightly closed eyes.

Your eyes flutter open to see him staring at you. The blush on your face deepens the longer he’s hovering over you, just admiring your face and your reactions. Jisung climbs on top of you, placing a kiss on your forehead. That alone sends shivers down your spine.

There’s a moment between the two of you, no words spoken. Just a look exchanged that is worth more than words can express. You lean up and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses you back with just as much passion and when you pull away, you’re both breathless. HIs hand cradles your jaw and neck gently, thumb running across your swollen pink lips. On instinct, you bite your bottom lip and Jisung smiles in return.

He leans back on his knees on the bed, tugging your panties off in the process. Jisung steps off the bed, aiming to grab a condom, but you sit up and grab his wrist firmly, tugging him back towards you. You look up at him on your knees and slowly shake your head.

Jisung raises a brow, not quite fully understanding, but when your fingers glide over the buckle of his belt, undoing it followed by his zipper, he can’t help but to watch you through half lidded eyes.

His pants drop to the floor with the clang of his belt. You lay back down, head on the bed’s pillow. Jisung crawls after you like a moth attracted to a flame. Jisung dips his head down to place another kiss against your lips.

You reach a hand between your bodies and grasp at his hard length, catching Jisung by surprise. He inhales sharply through his nose, body tensing over you. You smile coyly and stroke him once, twice, and the way his face contorts: eyes shut tightly, brows knit together, his lips slightly parted; you understand just why Jisung likes to watch you.

You can feel him growing harder in your palm, vein throbbing against your thumb. He buries his head in your neck, his forearms on either side of you bearing most of his weight. “Fuck,” He chokes out, hot breath against your shoulder.

“Me?” You ask with a playful tone.

Jisung chuckles and pulls himself back up to take a look at you. “Please.”

You let go of his hard and swollen cock as he positions himself between your legs, thighs coated with your arousal. He runs the tip against your folds and you tremble with anticipation while he steels himself for what’s to come. He presses his hips forward, the head of his dick pushes past your folds and into the warmth of your pussy.

The feeling is so euphoric. You can feel him enter you, stretching you out with every inch he pushes deeper. His breath is shaky against your lips, his face right above yours as the both of you watch each other’s expressions of pure ecstasy.

“Fuck,” you hiss when he bottoms out.

Jisung reaches for your open palm by your head and you’re quick to interlock your fingers together. “Good girl,” He whispers. You squeeze his hand, signaling for him to move. He does, moving his hips back and forth slowly against you. Your eyes roll back, the feeling almost too much to handle. You can’t believe how good it feels. The pace he sets is steady, thrusts deep, your chest bouncing with the rhythm of his hips. “So good, so pretty,” He says between grunts.

He’s determined to hear you moan and you’re determined to keep quiet. He pulls his hips back and thrusts into you hard and deep. Deep enough that it causes your mouth to drop open. The next thrust makes you moan. Every thrust after that is backed with a sense of purpose: to make you moan over and over again.

Your breathing is erratic now, your chest heaving up and down visibly. You lock your ankles around Jisung’s waist, pulling him closer. You need him closer. He pulls out of you and tears prick at your eyes. “Ji, why?”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest.

You pout at him and you bet you look real pathetic, eyes watery from just the lack of him inside you, but Jisung doesn’t see that at all; you’re beautiful. He turns you on your side and positions himself behind you and slips back in. “Ooo,” You say through grit teeth, enjoying the new angle.

His arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you close to his body. The new position was intimate, especially with your back pressed against his chest, one of his hands tenderly at your neck. His hips snap into you over and over again and your mouth hangs open. Jisung takes the opportunity to place his two fingers into your mouth, just testing the waters there. Immediately, you close your lips and suck on his digits.

You’re not sure why – you were never this adventurous with your past partners –, but that specific action coupled with the new deeper angle made your walls squeeze around him. He takes his fingers out of your mouth with a pop, rocking into you faster.

“Jisung,” His name spills from your mouth and your head rolls back against him, grabbing onto his arm across your torso.

He knows you're close. He can tell.

Jisung unwraps an arm from around you and hoists your leg up high in the ditch of his elbow, spreading you open wider.

“Ji– Fuck. ” You curse, so close to unraveling.

“That’s my girl,” By this point, he’s picked up on how you subconsciously squeeze around him whenever he praises you, “Come with me, baby. Just a little more.”

You fight the urge to shut your eyes and he tugs at the back of your hair to angle your head towards him. You look behind you to him from the corner of your eyes. Jisung nods, his expression an exact mirror of your own.

Hair messy. Eyes glazed over in neediness and pleasure. Lips dry and swollen from kisses and open mouth panting.

The next words that come out of your mouth surprise Jisung, “Cum in me.”

“Are you sure?” “Ye–”

He pulls out almost all the way and thrusts – no, pounds into you. He does this over and over again until he’s close, you’re trying your best to hold out for him. With one final thrust, you see stars, body feeling like it's floating as he finishes inside of you, warm cum painting your walls.

Jisung stays sheathed inside of you while the room is filled with heavy panting, the both of you trying to catch your breath. Jisung places a tender kiss against your shoulder. You look back at him and offer him a sleepy smile. “Jisung, you can stop sleeping on the floor.”

He laughs behind you and pulls you close against him, draping his arms around your waist.

When you wake up, you find yourself covered in the white hotel sheets, the sun coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm against your skin. The heat rises to your face when you recall last night. A huge smile finds its way onto your lips even recalling the 'request' you asked of him. Good thing your best friend convinced you to go on the pill three years ago.

You look around, trying to find where Jisung went off to. It takes you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when you do, you find Jisung out on the balcony.

You reach for your phone on the floor and snap a picture, wanting to remember the man you met in Korea forever. Scrolling through the apps on your phone, you bite on your lower lip in hesitation but decide to post it anyway.

ending author’s notes: Here's that huge step I was talking about last ending a/n. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

taglist

@burningchaosdeer, @bat-shark-repellant , @jisunglyricist , @captivq , @lixiel0ver , @channieandhisgoonsquad , @dalamjisung , @laylasbunbunny , @beanebabyy , @leyknowsbin , @vixensss , @hyunfilms , @cutiespaghetti , @hanjisunginc , @kubuwu , @raehawthorne , @leeknowyah , @lifeissteph

could not be tagged

126 notes · View notes

zipper-ghost · 5 months

Text

Thank you for a 100 kudos! Here are a couple comments people have left on my fic so far. I love all the comments I get and read them over and over!

I'm still working on chapter 7 but here is a sneak peek! Spoilers for the fic upto chapter 6

8:45 pm, 19 September 51’, Echo Park Apartments, Kim Kitsuragi

Kim pulls up behind Harry’s apartment building.

“Hey, wake up detective,” Kim says as he reaches back and taps Harry’s knee.

Harry wakes up with a jolt and looks around in a panic. When he sees Kim and that he is in the kineema he calms down.

“I fell asleep.”

“Khm, as soon as you sat down and I started driving you were knocked out. You must have been exhausted.”

“Oh,” Harry looks out the window and realizes they’re outside his apartment his face falls. “I thought we were having dinner.”

Kim snaps his fingers for dramatic effect although the sound is muffled by his gloves. “I got it covered. I bought some sandwiches on the way. Besides, you’ll be more relaxed at home right?”

Harry’s lips tremble as he smiles. “Yeah, thanks, Kim.”

Harry yawns five times walking from the Coupris Kineema to the door of his apartment. Kim switches on the lights as Harry kicks off his green leather shoes. The apartment is the same at the last time he was here, chaotic, colorful, and warm. Every surface is covered in some kind of knickknack Harry’s picked up, half-read books or discarded clothing. It is the very essence of Harry du Bois from the yellow wallpaper to the mismatched chairs to the miscellaneous art on the walls.

Harry takes the dirty plates from the table and puts them in the already overflowing sink. Kim places the bag on the table and hands Harry a wrapped sandwich when he sits across him. The circular dining table is so small their knees touch beneath it.

“Arg,” Harry huffs when he unwraps the paper. “Why did you get so much lettuce and spinach on mine?”

“When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

“Probably the last time you made me,” Harry says.

“Exactly.”

Harry rolls his eyes and picks out the spinach before eating. Kim knows Harry likes ham and salami on soft sub rolls, he likes mustard, vinegar, and hot sauce. He knows Harry likes pickled onions but not olives, and avoids lettuce but would still eat it if Kim bought it for him even if he complains about it. A hundred Harry facts take up space in Kim’s mind. Ultimately useless but precious all the same.

Harry inhales half his sandwich, leaving a smattering of crumbs on his face. Unthinking, Kim leans forward and wipes away the stray breadcrumbs caught in Harry’s mustache. They both freeze when Kim notices what he is doing. Kim takes his hand back and silence fills the space between them.

He keeps his eyes down and takes a bite of his sandwich, his ears burn. What is he doing?

“Uh- this morning,” Harry begins leaning back in his chair, “before- you know everything happened. Vic and I went to Fire Pit and talked to the owner.”

Kim raised an eyebrow. “I thought the owner didn’t want to speak to the RCM.”

“He doesn't but we needed to know if the suspect had been seen at the club in the last few days. The apartment manager claims he hasn’t returned to his apartment but I don’t know if we can trust her. We needed to know if he is hiding, he might be suspecting we are after him since we’ve been asking around for him. Anyway- when we went to the club the owner recognised me from the night we went to the bar.”

“Did you meet him that night?”

“We kind of did. He was the bartender, the bald man who was wearing lipstick.”

“Ok,” Kim says. He didn’t remember what the bartender looked like. Harry’s memory was astounding. “So you told him we were there undercover?”

“No, I said it was a coincidence that we were there but I think he suspects it. We talked about the night the victim left with the suspect. He confirmed it was Maurice- the suspect. We pretty much already knew that but it was good to cross the t’s and dot the i’s. He confirmed the suspect went to the Fire Pit after the night we were there. I did not in fact scare him away.” Harry says sulkily. “But he hasn’t shown up in a few days. He might be in hiding, or he might just be going to other clubs.”

“Khm, did you ask about the drug dealing?” Kim asks around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

“Yeah but he didn’t say much. He claims he didn’t care to know so he didn’t. I don’t think we can get much more information out of him on that subject. Oh- but he said we could come back to the Fire Pit even if we are RCM officers.”

“We as in…”

“You and me,” Harry grins. “Next time we go I’m going to make you dance.”

“I’m not going to dance.” Kim says flatly although his heart flutters a bit when Harry says next time.

“Yes, you will. You seem to forget I got you to dance with me in the church.”

“That was different. It was only you, the speed freaks and Soona. I can't dance in a busy club in the middle of Jamrock where I work. It'll be utterly embarrassing.”

Harry leans in, a haunty glint in his eyes like he has caught Kim in a trap. “Does that mean it'll be ok if it's just us?”

Kim knits his brow. He wants to say no because Harry is planning something but Kim is also curious about where this is going. Harry gets up from the table and crosses the apartment in three large strides.

“What are you doing?” Kim asks. He turns to watch Harry but doesn't move to get up.

Harry simply hums by way of reply.

He takes a cassette tape from the stack next to his stereo, slips it into the player and presses play.

The upbeat rhythm of 30s disco music pours out of the speakers and fills the living room.

Harry makes a dramatic spin and winks at Kim. Kim shakes his head no. He shouldn't encourage Harry, he shouldn't smile.

“Yes, Kim.”

“I don't even know how to dance to disco.”

Harry saunters back to Kim, swaying to the music, fancy footsteps matching the beat.

“Of course you can! And I'm not accepting any excuses, we are alone and off duty.”

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #de #kimharry

33 notes · View notes

kekaki-cupcakes · 10 months

Note

Hello kekaki! Cloud you please write something for Jason with a stoic/shy body painter reader? I feel like he’d be a great model, cause he’s very patient and all. What do you think? No worries if u don’t feel like it, obvs!

I actually loved this idea and ended up putting heaps of headcanons and shit in it too because I love this kinda ask! [everyone usually just does simple stuff which is all g lol but this is so creative maybe its just cause im artsy haha] Anyway this is mixed in with an ask I got for a London Boy [Taylor Swift] type ask x Jason <3 <3 <3

There's still a trace of body paint--- Jason x Body paint artist!reader [London Boy-Taylor Swift]

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason tried not to laugh.

It was so hard though, because holy Hades the paintbrush was so cold and it was tickling his sides and he began chewing on his lip to stop himself from squirming away.

He sat as still as he could, which wasn’t hard, one thing Camp Jupiter got right was the whole soldier thing, and Jason could stand still for hours at a time without moving if he had to. And this way he was sitting on a cushioned stool watching your expression shift when you thought no one was watching you, or eating MnM’s, listening to whatever pop song came over the little radio by the open window.

The smell of strawberries wafted through with the warm summer air from the fields a few cabins over, and it made him hungry, but he wasn’t about to get up and ruin the carefully designed strokes all down his back and over his shoulders.

He didn’t even get to know what it was until the end, apparently, which was so mean of you, but then you’d stick your tongue out while you worked a little bit in concentration and he forgave you.

You looked up and made eye contact too quickly for Jason to play it off, and you took the tiny brush off his shoulder slowly, “what?”

“Nothing,” Jason said quickly, chewing the inside of his lip to stop his grin this time, and turned to the rest of the cabin. There was one set of bunks, but the rest of the beds were all retro hammocks hung between messy easels and tapestries and a few statues in progress.

There was a mini fridge with a salt lamp on top, and every windowsill had little trays of incense next to the mugs filled with paint brushes or lemonade. His view was skewed when you spun the stool around a little and took another brush from the table, this time with an inky dark blue.

Jason looked up at the roof to move his hair when the cold began to dot lightly where his neck met his shoulder. There was a big circle cut out of the white stone ceiling, replaced with glass that let the light in like a halo. It fit the whole scene though, you looked like an angel, even with the bit of melted MnM on your cheek.

“Hey,” he started, noticing the polaroid’s stuck to the wall around the mustard colored hammock belonging to you. “Can I ask..”

“Hm?” You asked, getting a sponge and dabbing at the scars shredding up the right of Jason’s lower back.

He wasn’t sure what your answer to the question would be, and if it was something bad, he didn’t want to make you upset, but he was curious. “How did you… how did you get here? When were you claimed?”

“Well, it wasn’t as dramatic as falling out of a burning chariot into the lake,” you muttered, wiping yellow paint from your hands onto your forehead without noticing. “My mum booked a flight to New York when I was ten, and then drove me to the borders of Camp.”

Jason looked down at his shoes, “your mortal mum?...She just left you?”

You shook your head quickly, “oh, no, it wasn’t like that. She told me I was a demigod when I was six. Didn’t want to keep secrets. Said she went out with a lady at Glastonbury that dropped me off a few months later with a bunch of flowers.”

“I lasted a lot longer than the flowers,” you chuckled quietly, “I knew I was coming here for ages, and I knew I was a son of Iris. We didn’t get a lot of monsters in England, I’ve been attacked more by going to Starbucks on the weekends here than living in Manchester for ten years.”

Jason didn’t like talking about his own mum, but the way you smiled talking about yours, he figured you didn’t mind. “Do you miss her?”

“A lot, but Iris messages aren’t exactly hard for me,” you said with a shrug, dipping the paintbrush into the little tub Jason was balancing on his thigh. “Besides, Iris pays for my mum to fly over every summer, cause she feels bad that she had a kid with someone so far away.”

“Really?”

You smiled again, and the little shiny crystals on your necklaces clicked against the beads, “she’s a pretty great mum, as far as godly parents go. She’s gonna pay for art school, as long as I show her everything I paint.”

Jason blinked. “Does that include me?”

“Surely you’ve met her, you’ve met all the gods, right?” You asked, eating an MnM and swishing the paintbrush around in a cup. Jason was pretty sure you’d just cleaned it with lemonade, but he didn’t say anything.

He blinked, watching the colorful stained glass of your earrings catch in the light, “Yeah, but that was before…”

Before he’d found you with Racheal using the blank stone wall of his cabin as a space for her next mural. He didn’t really care if Zeus got annoyed, because you had pink paint on your cheeks and you were using a pegasus called Clover to put all of the paint tubs on and Racheal was saying something stupid and you were laughing with your nose all crinkled up and if Zeus got annoyed by that, Jason would take the smiting himself.

Before he’d somehow ended up in the same activities together after he told Piper about you [who could convince Annabeth to do anything for her somehow, even without her mothers tongue].

Before he’d offered to sit still for hours at a time so that you could build a portfolio of paintings on his scarred skin. He’d had to ask instead of agree, because you weren’t exactly the outgoing type. Neither was Jason, so you could sit together for hours with only the sound of the tens of wind chimes outside the cabin and paint tubes being used to their last drop.

Before Jason found himself more invested in the process of the painting then the outcome.

He gulped, and mentally shook his head, “well, I hope the art school people don’t mind scars. You’d have to use someone else.”

“I don’t care if they do. I’d still paint you,” you said quietly, looking up from the dark blue sketchy strokes Jason could only just see without his glasses. Then you looked away, changing your paintbrush for the yellow one, “unless you didn’t want to.”

“I do.”

It was silent for a moment, and then you smiled, your lip piercing shining in the sun that streamed in, “okay.”

“I’m done,” you said a few minutes later, passing Jason the rest of the MnM’s once he could move without fear of ruining the paint. He watched as you pulled a mirror out from behind an easel depicting what looked like a robot bear with square teeth and red eyes.

Jason stared at the blues and golds with wide eyes. He didn’t want to blink, he didn’t want to not see it. He didn’t know how to put it into words. “...Wow.”

Wow didn’t seem like enough, but you grinned nonetheless with a shy shrug, “It’s a Van Gogh, well my version of it. Everyone likes Starry night, but I like Starry Night Over The Rhone a lot more, so…”

»»————-　★　————-««

“Is that her?”

You rolled your eyes at the question, the only one Jason had been able to ask the past ten minutes as you both sat at a park bench outside the movies, an old one near the markets that just played grainy reruns in its shabby chic theater. “If you ask one more-”

“No I think that’s Iris,” he whispered with wide eyes, “she’s staring at me.”

About to explain that the old lady with a basket of kittens and a black lace umbrella [it was sunny. She was probably a vampire] was not your mother, you turned to see the woman who was actually your mother, in her bell bottoms and matching top, hoop earrings made of tiny dreamcatchers casting colorful light everywhere.

You grabbed his wrist, and pulled him along into her cloud of floral perfume that hurt your nose when she brought you into a bearhug. “Hi mum.”

“Darling!” She shrieked, kissing your cheeks and holding your shoulders and she shook them violently, then snuck another hug while you were making sure your head was still attached to your shoulders, “oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“Missed you to mum,” you said, pulling away with a smile, and turned to Jason, who had the same expression big dogs get when they’re picked up. “Um, mum… this is Jason.”

“Yes, yes! I’ve heard all about you!”

“...He’s my boyfriend.”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #Jason grace #jasongrace #Jason Grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x male reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #fanfiction

55 notes · View notes