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linawritestwst · 2 years ago

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twst characters as things from my class gc!

UM. HELLO THERE. so, i wish i could say that YAY HIATUS IS OVER I'M BACK, but.. nope, it's not over yet. i think these first months of uni will be very busy for me and when i finally manage to get some free time, my energy levels are just too low for writing, haha.. so yeah, i'm not sure when i'll be able to go back to writing imagines.

but i didn't want this blog to be totally dead, so i decided to do this fun little thing! i saw a lot of people doing posts like this and my class gc is. well. a whole circus, so i thought i should try this too. idk if these are going to be "in character" but i hope they sound like something twst characters would actually say.

this is going to be mostly heartslabyul, because i feel like our class really has heartslabyul energy jnmfdkdldf.

riddle: *a voice message* "trey, tell them that if they don't come to this event, they WILL regret it and the headmaster will kick their asses. no, actually, i'd be okay with doing it myself. you can just send this message to them. i wish everyone a good day, a good life.. and i wish for those who won't come to at least have pretty tombstones when i'm done with them."

ace: oh well, looks like i'm gonna get my ass kicked.

cater: i'd rather get my ass kicked than go to that event and die of cringe.

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deuce: i'm sorry, i don't really get this, can someone send me their notes?

riddle: here *sends a pic of his notes*

ace: oh, of course you're the type to have ✨a e t h e t i c ✨ notes.

cater: you forgot the 's'

ace:

ace: oh, of course you're the type to have ✨a e s t h e t i c ✨ notes. (edited)

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(for context: one of my classmates mentioned that he's really into cooking and he's been trying to learn how to bake, but my prof said that there is no need for a man to learn how to bake unless he wants to impress a woman and even if he does it to impress her, she's gonna start using him, because now she knows he can bake. yes. he was very serious about it)

trey: the fun thing is that i'm actually bi and i already have a boyfriend, so hearing that i'm allowed to bake only to impress women is.. an interesting experience.

fem!yuu: i don't care that you already have a bf, i'm still gonna make you bake for me.

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cater: so i tried to take a pic of professor trein for fun, but i couldn't take a normal pic from this angle, so it looks like he's on top of the world and he's looking down on all of us

cater: this is so deep, i know

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(these are other messages after that one baking incident)

jamil: what's the deal with him saying that cooking for women is not masculine enough?

lilia: i got it, boys, we're only gonna cook for other men from now on

epel: the things that we have to do to keep our masculinity..

cater: marrying a man that you cooked for is the next step

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(again, for context: we have to make a short video introduction for all of us and we're planning to make it look like a tv show opening, but we don't know what song to use)

ace: seriously, y'all are acting like that one shrek scene

ace: idia goes "ANIME OP", cater goes "POPULAR SONG", idia is still sending anime ops and cater is still suggesting popular songs meanwhile lilia suddenly goes "A RANDOM SONG FROM THE 80'S"

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trey, saying this to ace and deuce: i don't know how to stop you two from fighting all the time, so i'm just gonna send random recipes every time you two start arguing.

trey: and it looks like i already have to send the first recipe.

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yuu, showing a drawing they made for a class event: i wasn't able to fit in all the letters, so i had to do it in a more.. creative way.

ace: ah yes, happy inter

translation day everyone

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azul: *a voice message* you got it all wrong. we, dorm leaders, have other things to do and you all still have to do these tasks. so have fun with all of these assignments, hehe~

yuu: *also a voice message* hehe.. hehe.. hehe.. *STARTS CRYING*

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vil, sending a picture of his tired face: can you see how tired i am of reading all this nonsense now

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deuce: i'm gonna be honest, i wish i could put more effort into this, but i can't

ace: dude, no one here has put any fucking effort into this

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kalim, trying to do his dorm leader duties and write a class schedule + add professors' names: um. guys. i just realized that i don't know any of our professors' names

kalim: also, what is even the headmaster's first name

yuu, who's too tired of crowley's behavior: crowley. it's just crowley. write it like that

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bonus: twst characters as songs that were sent for that one video introduction thing. i am only gonna do some characters, because some songs are too "local" and obscure for everyone's understanding hdfkdmfk

ace: all star by smash mouth

cater: not exactly a song, but someone sent a tiktok that looked like this very ~aesthetic~ and pretty sitcom intro.. but with bts members. it just feels like cater to me

trey: friends opening theme

ruggie: never gonna give you up. i just feel like he would send it. or ace.

floyd: you spin me round (like a record) by dead or alive

kalim: parappa the rapper ost. or azumanga daioh opening

vil: listen, if i had to assign both by todrick hall to anyone in twst that would be him or cater

idia: *SIGHS* someone decided to send bnha openings. yeah

lilia: anything from maneskin's discography

silver: wake me up before you go go by wham! get it. get it, it's because silver is always sleepy and-

113 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 3 years ago

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Lá Bealtaine

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, cunnilingus, SMUT, NSFW/18+only, loss of virginity - if you squint, using sex to mask feelings & trauma, mild JJK manga spoilers; but if you’ve seen the anime you’re pretty caught up on this stuff

Word Count: 4732

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Notes: hehe, when i said i had Choso brain rot i was not joking. this dude has been on my mind for weeks, ya’ll. WEEKS. special thanks to @libiraki & @kugutsuu for beta editing! if you haven’t checked out their works please stop what you are doing & scuttle yourself over there bc you are missing out.

Lá Bealtaine [l̪ˠaː ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə] 'the bright or yellow day of Beltane' - a time of fire and fertility.

It started with a touch. A simple interaction; but it sticks to the back of his mind and the heat of your hand lingers, a remembrance that he can’t shake.

He’d returned to the dingy bowels of the hideout, boots echoing over the well-worn floor as he made his way to his customary seat; unaware of the blood that oozed from the strip above his nose. Legs and arms are heavy as he slots himself into the chair, his eyes drooping closed as he leans his dark head against the cushions.

Two weeks.

Choso’s younger brothers were killed two weeks ago. Leaving him alone; adrift in his loss, his failure as an elder brother. The remembrance of them stung in the morning and was an ache by afternoon, but in the night’s darkness it burned.

He will have his chance, he reminds himself, furrowing his brow; seeking the faint traces of the other six who need him to press on, and the hollow twinge of the two who need vengeance. The 31st is only fourteen days away; he can wait. He can–

The pressure of the sudden touch makes him jerk; coal-dark eyes snapping open, searching for the source. You’re standing above him, hand outstretched, the pad of your thumb delicately catching the long forgotten drip of blood against his cheek.

“You shouldn’t touch that,” he says, voice gruff in the vacant emptiness of the space; but he doesn’t shift, meeting your frank gaze unblinkingly.

“Oh?” you question, swiping the sullied digit across your pants, tacking the deep crimson into the material of your jeans.

“It’s poison,” Choso clarifies. The spot you’d stroked your thumb down is tingling. Exhaustion, he muses, itching his nails into the thick fabric of his loose pants. He’s imagining it; there’s no other explanation.

“You’re not going with the others?”

What? How can he? They’re dead. Ah, no. He’s not thinking clearly. You don’t mean his brothers; you mean Getō.

“No,” he quips, lifting the back of his hand to his cheek, wanting to quell that spreading warmth that you’ve left him with.

“Then you don’t need this, right?” You gesture to the mess of game pieces and the forgotten board that is scattered across the low table in front of him. He shakes his head and you begin the steady process of tidying up, collecting the mismatched jumble into your arms, folding the rest into the tattered box before you step away.

Choso closes his eyes again, steadying his breaths, finding the pulse of the blood that thrums within him. Nothing is out of place. So why does his cheek feel like it’s on fire? There’s no reason for it. Is he this starved for a connection that he’s latching onto the first interaction he receives?

His onyx eyes follow you as you walk across the matted flooring. You own this space; have struck some kind of deal with Getō and the others, permitting them to come and go, quietly cleaning up their messes, and ducking out of sight when they gather within the confines of the darkness; talking through the plans, the ins and outs of the sealing and the massacre that they hope to spread throughout the underground station of the pre-ordained prefecture.

In the grand scheme of things you’re nothing. Why waste energy focusing on you? It won’t matter in fourteen days.

The clink of the cup on the table rattles him out of his thoughts and Choso peers into the depths of your clear gaze once more. “What is it?” he queries, running a broad hand down his face, hoping the pull will make him forget the persistent warmth that’s radiating from the spot you’d touched.

“You look tired. Drink that and get some rest.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sure,” you grin, cocking your head at Choso’s curled lips and wrinkled nose. “That’s a good one. Like any of you would ever listen to me.”

What’s this called? Self deprecating humor? Well, whatever it is, Choso doesn’t enjoy the brittle tone your voice has drifted into. It doesn’t suit you and that low annoyance that’s been brewing under his skin is coming closer and closer to the surface. His fingers are on the cup before he can properly sort through his mismatched emotions, but he doesn’t miss the lift of your lips when he gulps the scalding tea down his throat.

Why does he care? You don’t matter. You’re no one to him.

“Easy,” you tut, shaking your head at his sharp gaze. “You’ll burn yourself.”

So? He’d rather feel something burn than linger into the uneasy pull of an ache.

Choso looks for you when he enters, shifting past the others. You’re tucked toward the back, brows creased and head down. It’s a smart move, but the frightened hunch you’ve adopted bothers him more than it used to.

“We have a few minutes,” Getō announces to the gathering, dark eyes bright as they fall on his impassive face. “And Mahito is always late.”

There’s an implication behind it, but Choso opts to ignore that uneasy instinct, already turning. He’s just going to ask you for tea; that’s all. When you spy him, you smile and that spot on his cheek flares, remembering the sweep of your thumb.

“Lucky you caught me,” you tell him, hands busy with the rattling cups. “I was about to go.”

He narrows his eyes, watching the curve of your neck, the stretch of your fingers, and the uneasy twitch of your shoulders. This sort of existence doesn’t suit you. You’re the antithesis of this; normal, kind, unabashedly human. So why do you…

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Choso shakes his head, openly scowling at your answer. “Me?” he sputters, sucking his teeth and pressing his clenched fists into the long table that you stand behind.

“Yeah,” you confirm, pouring the steaming water over the leaves, wafting the fragrant essence of the tea between his clenched jaw and your ducked head.

“I don’t… that is...I...” Choso begins, but fumbles into silence when he catches sight of your eyes, half hidden behind the sweep of your lashes. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “You’re strange,” he finishes, huffing a belabored sigh between his pursed lips, but when you laugh he can’t help a faint smile.

It will feel disloyal later, that burst of momentary happiness, but right now he doesn’t mind the distraction; cupping the yunomi between his palms, catching your fingers before they can pull away, enjoying the warmth you transude into his chilled hands.

Nothing holds. Choso knows this better than most. All things, given time, change. It is an inevitability. Something he’s known intrinsically, and clung to, all those years; when the only constant was the beating of his brother’s hearts beside him. But change rarely announces itself, content in its own emergence; the omnipotence of its bite.

Something has shifted.

“You didn’t go again?” You ask one night, sitting beside him, a cooling mug between your fingertips.

“Didn’t see the need,” he tells you, an outstretched legs brushing against yours.

“You’re different… you know that?” A smile hidden within your words.

“So are you.” He likes that, he thinks. He likes it more than he should.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

You bite your lip and he watches the press of your teeth, hoping you’ll split the skin.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” You bargain, coyly shaking your head.

“I’m close enough and I don’t like games,” he grumbles, hoping you won’t leave it at that, because while it’s true that he doesn’t like games, he’s enjoying this give and take.

“Please?”

There’s something intoxicating about that gentle sound and he turns, wordlessly following your crooked finger. He towers over your seated form, but you don’t let that imbalance hang, hands tugging against the white of his shirt, urging him to kneel between your spread legs. When he settles, you curl your fingers against his jaw, smoothing that blistering heat over his icy skin until he’s pressing forward, resting his heavy forehead against yours.

You’re so warm, he inwardly gasps, his breaths coming in pants. So warm he fears he might grow addicted to this heady intimacy. “What do you want?” Choso asks, the deep timbre of his voice quaking.

“You.” It’s such a simple answer; how like you.

“I am here,” he replies, half drunk on the feel of your skin.

“Yes, but what if I told you I want more?”

That question casts him into the darkness. He’s unused to this; doesn’t know what to do, what to say; he’s been sealed for so long, too long, and he feels wobbly, lightheaded, but he tries to reach, his fingers grasping at the base of your neck, pulling you toward... toward…

The clatter of the front door startles you both, and he’s on his feet, eyes wild as they look down on your parted lips, and the furrowed confusion of your brow. Your hands are still upturned, waiting for his.

The others step into the space and when he blinks again you’re already gone; your chair vacant, the warmth you’d shared evaporating into the unfeeling cruelty of the chilled air. Shit, Choso curses, grinding his teeth.

Something has shifted; it will be impossible to tear himself away from you now.

It’s only been a day, but he can’t stop staring at you. He doesn’t hide his blatant gaze, obsidian eyes tracking each step, hungrily snapping to yours each time you come near. You do nothing to lessen this itching want that’s raging within him, leaning close, pressing your hand against his shoulder as you gather the discarded cups that are scattered between them, asking him if there’s anything else he needs, your breath hot against his ear.

He’s unsure if he likes this.

But each time you shift away he wants to drag you back.

When they leave, used to his excuses, and his protestations that as long as the mission doesn’t involve Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara he’s uninterested, he stands; head turning, searching for you.

Ah. There you are.

He’s against you in an instant, stiff hands cupping you, greedy to touch, to hold. You squirm, a laugh bubbling from your lips, swatting his wide palms from the tempting swell of your hips. “What’s gotten into you?” As if you don’t know.

“Tch,” he scolds, “you’ve been toying with me all evening. You said you wanted more yesterday, so show me.”

You breathe out a chuckle, bemused by his enthusiasm and take his hand in yours, leading him down a hallway. He’s never been back here, but he follows, trying to steady the thudding of his heart. Controlling his life’s blood is second nature to him, so why does this feel like it’s a losing battle?

The room you open is dark, but he can make out the shape of a futon, stark against the mats, and his eyelids flutter, too overwhelmed by the realness of this befuddling situation to look. To distract himself, he pulls you against the slope of his chest, splaying his fingers against the sweep of your collarbone. You twist in his loose hold, folding your arms around his powerful neck.

“Do you still want this?”

Choso unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, gulping down a wavering breath. “I already told you,” he begins, his voice gravel, “show me more. Show me what else you want to do with me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you inquire, dipping your head enticingly, catching his wandering attention, urging him nearer. He doesn’t answer, electing to tap his lips against yours, clumsily pressing until the tip of his nose digs into your cheek. It’s easy to feel your heartbeat like this, and he wraps his arms around your lower back, eliminating the meager distance that was trapped between your heaving chests.

You let him steady himself, careful to keep your movements slow, but the squish of his face and the jerk of his hands tugs a bated humph of discomfort from you and he breaks away, elegant brows crumpled as he searches for the source of your discontent.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you amend, smiling at his obvious pout. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Choso questions, stroking a palm up your spine, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth when you draw in a gasp.

You cup your hands beside his ears, fingers sinking into the dark tangles of his hair as you lure him back to your parted lips. “Open your mouth.”

He does as he’s told and you mold him against you, lapping your tongue over his, earning a shuddering moan and a sharp caress as he coils his hand around your throat. It’s easier this way and Choso steadily follows your lead, mimicking your sucks and teasing bites. Teeth clash when he reaches for more but he eases the sting with a flick of his tongue, and you nibble his lower lip in retaliation, pleased he’s so malleable.

Your fingers fall to the sash that rests above his stomach and he grunts when you pull at it, easing it away with a stable unwinding. His breaths are heavy against your kiss shined lips, but he keeps perfecting his new found techniques, sweeping chapped skin until it’s worn smooth by the wetness of your tongue. His own hands are preoccupied with your neck and the gentle underside of your jaw, fingertips pressing until you can sense the pound of your heart within his grasp.

“What are you trying to do?” you ask between his frantic presses. “It’s like you wanna match my pulse, or something.”

“Worry about yourself,” he grouses, ill-pleased with your answering laugh. “It’s going to take forever if you go that slow.”

You shove your palms against his chest and he stumbles backwards, his booted feet loud against the heavy mats, dark eyes flashing up at yours as his face falls into a deep-seated glower. “What?! What was... why did you…”

His angry retorts melt into nothingness when you fling your shirt over your head, sending the thin fabric fluttering to the ground. The sudden exposure leaves him gaping, unsure of himself once more, but you ease the shock, grasping his limp hand in yours, guiding it over the dip of your stomach, and up the flow of your side.

“Let’s play fair, huh?” you tease, tapping a kiss to his cheek, careful to land it in the same spot your thumb had touched weeks ago. Choso nods, obsidian eyes wide as his fingers trace over your goose-prickled skin. “Alright, well, it’s your turn.”

His gaze snaps back to yours, whisking over your face; as if he’s searching for some kind of answer in the lift of your nose, or the plushness of your lips. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he ducks his head to yours, resting his brow against the crown of your temple, hands lifting to his own clothing, making quick work of the intricate knots and folds of the fabric.

The gleam of his skin in the moonlight takes your breath away, and you reach for him as he eases the black off of the white, sliding your warmth over the coldness of his bared pectorals. He’s smooth; skin as soft as freshly cleaved talc, or a scattering of downy feathers, and you keep stroking until he’s shaking under your touch, his exhales unsteady against your face.

“I think I have more blemishes on my fingers and arms than you do on your entire body. You’re so soft,” you tell him, tracing an outspread hand against his muscled abdomen.

“I’m... this is a new manifestation,” he answers, hoping the strangeness of him, of his half human, half cursed being, won’t drive you away.

“Hmm,” you nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “It feels nice.”

He’s slow to undress. Not because he doesn’t want to see more of you, he’s simply distracted, too focused on touching what bits of you are revealed; the arc of your hips, the tipped buds of your breasts, and the line of your legs. But you’re like water; slipping through the gaps of his fingers, leaving him wanting, unsatisfied with his fragile hold.

When the last scrap of clothing is off, he waits, his cheeks flushed and mouth dry. “Now what?”

“Do you want me to touch you first?” you ask, that tantalizing smile lifting your lips.

“No,” he asserts, shaking his dark head. “I want to learn you before that...so show me.”

“You’re very unusual.” Tilting your head as you take his hand, leading him to your futon. “You know that?” you continue, tumbling him over you as you splay across the crisp sheets.

“Says the woman who is letting me between her legs,” Choso smarts, finding your lips in the gathering darkness. “Stop stalling; show me.”

With a pleased sigh, you reach for his hand again, looping your fingers around his as you guide him to the juncture of your thighs. You work one away from the others, gliding it along the ridges of your folds, showing him how you like to be touched. After his initial gawping and mystified rumblings of, ‘so wet,’ and half croaked, ‘fucks,’ he shifts closer, easing onto his haunches as he curiously follows your lessons.

“There,” he hisses, onyx gaze catching your twitching stomach and jerking hips. “Teach me how to do that.”

You work him to that apex, using your other hand to lift the slippery hood of your clit, showing him how to press and tap against the spongy nub. He’s a quick learner, his eyes falling from yours to watch the flutter and quaver of your cunt.

“Move your hand,” he tells you, resting his lips against the hollow of your neck, his tongue lapping over your pulse. When you untwine your fingers from his he waits, lips too busy sucking a bruise into your skin; reaching for that unsteady thump of your heart.

Bump-bump-ba-bump.

Yes. This will do. He’s caught the rhythm; can almost sense the flow of your blood, and see the surge of your clit under his touch.

The next frig of his digit has you gasping out his name, legs unfurling, knees shaking beside his ribs, your head flopping back onto the futon with a dull thump as you arch into his hold. Choso reapplies the pressure, adding the pad of his thumb, leaving it opposite his seeking forefinger, squeezing until you’re clawing your blunt nails down the sheets.

“You look good like this,” he smirks, looming over your heaving figure, licking his wet tongue along the valley of your breasts. “What else can you show me?”

Your fingers’ grip into his hair and you yank him from you, one brow delicately arched as you take in his irascible scowl. “You could put your mouth to better use…”

There’s no need to elaborate, and he’s wedged between your thighs before you can fully blink, ravenous lips slurping kisses and bites into the tender skin; he’s asking another question, but you can’t hear when he’s touching you like that, his fingers doggedly pressing at your clit, jerking more moans from your throat.

“Wh-what?” you ask, breath stolen before it’s past your quivering mouth.

“I said,” Choso pants, lifting his inky head and fixing you with a dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“Does that matter?” you laugh, popping onto your elbows to regard him inquisitively.

“It helps,” he answers cryptically and you jab your toes against his arm.

“Helps with what?”

“You’ll see. Do you care if I experiment?” He lifts his fingers from you, sucking the dripping pads into his mouth as he waits for your answer.

“Knock yourself out,” you gape, biting your lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes glaze before he averts them, an appreciative smile gentling his sharp features. “Good,” he replies, easing one bent leg over his broad shoulder, sparing you a last glance before sealing his lips to your throbbing folds.

It starts slowly; a deep shudder that seems to radiate from your core before pooling against your extremities, making your fingers twitch and your muscles spasm incrementally. But Choso is mindful of the power that he’s found, and he eases you onto his tongue, helping you to relax with steady sucks, avoiding that all important button that is distending above his nose. He can almost hear the rush of your blood, can sense where to press with each swell of your slick folds, and he follows unquestionably; pleased he can lose himself in this, in you.

He taps his thumb against your entrance, eyes opening, searching over the curve of your breasts to see you, to watch what kind of expression you’ll make when he finally breaches this boundary. The sheer heat of you takes him aback, and he groans, his low voice vibrating over your twitching cunt, and you reward his elation with another moan, his name falling from your lips.

What is this?

He’s drowning and all he’s done is taste you. Will he die if this goes further? Or will it burn? Lapping away the remnants of his regret until there’s nothing left of him but splintered bone.

“Choso,” you breathe, fingers latching into his wayward hair. “More, please… it’s not enough.”

He rotates his thumb before easing it out, making room for the wide push of his index finger, tongue lifting to swirl around the pulsing nub of your clit, and teeth grazing until you’re squirming.

“There!” you cry out, bucking into his open mouth. “Oh, god… I... I can’t––”

Something inside you shudders. He can feel it in the comforting thump of your heart and it makes him clutch you to him, his own hips rutting against the edge of the futon as he finds himself awash in the sheer intoxication of you.

Fuck. Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he’s half himself and half you? Or is he simply drunk on the rush of your blood?

Your cunt sucks his finger deeper, gummy walls pulsing in time with your heart as he gulps down your essence, tongue greedily catching it before it has time to drip onto his upturned wrist. It’s good. It tastes so fucking good.

He’s so winded by the sensations that he barely notices you pulling from him, his dark head lolling over the crinkled sheets, an inaudible moan slipping between his clenched teeth. Choso doesn’t resist when you ease him upward, warm fingers tracing up his heaving body as you press him onto his back. Only when you press a kiss to his fevered temple does he find himself, eyes bleary in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, straddling his hips, your hand reaching for his straining cock, palming some of the leaking pre-cum over your fingers as you stroke him. “I can’t wait… I want you… can I? Choso?”

This part will burn, he thinks, helping you to hold yourself steady, eyes slipping closed when he feels the slick heat of you gliding teasingly over his tip. When you sink down, his back arches, and he hopes that the whispering shadows, the lingering remnants of his guilt, will be tossed onto this fire you’re stoking. Your hips still when they reach his base, legs twitching around him, your nails catching against his smooth skin, working nicks into the clean slate.

You’re clutching onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you down, and he opens his shuttered eyes to watch, hoping he can glimpse you past the smoldering of his want. You’re beautiful, he thinks, hand lifting from your hips to fiddle with the necklace that sits around your neck, admiring the glint of metal in the gloom.

He wishes he could see more, that he could wait a little longer, but he wants to put an end to this ache; he wants to burn.

The lift of your knees leaves both of you gasping, and Choso stifles a moan, legs tensing restlessly under the steady push and pull you’re establishing over him. It’s so warm inside you, and he can feel the thrum of your blood again, so he tries to match his to yours, controlling his pulse, right down to the multiplicity of his cells, eager to feel that potent tug of release once more.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, leaning back so he can admire his engorged cock as it plunges in and out of your sodden pussy.

“Do you have to ask?” he grunts, lifting a hand to your breast, tweaking the tender bud of your peaked nipple between the knuckles of his fingers.

When you call out his name again, he snatches you to him, dragging you to his parted lips as he digs his heels into the futon, rutting into you until you’re squelching lewdly around his pistoning cock. The world feels like it’s narrowing; the shadows lessening as he engulfs himself in you, his teeth working bruises into your neck, your shoulder, the tops of your breasts, anywhere he can reach; but it’s not enough.

With a huffed groan he’s gathering you into his arms, robust thighs helping him to flip you onto your back, hands splitting your legs as he drives himself back into your welcoming heat. It’s deeper in this position. He can feel more of your twitches and pulsations as he steadies his arms beside your ears, bracing himself over your prostrate form.

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” he asks, voice broken. “Do you want me to touch your clit? Will that make you cum for me? Will it?”

“I-I can do it,” you gasp, easing your fingers between your grinding bodies, knees spreading so he can watch. “Tell me when,” you murmur, head dropping as you arch, slipping him further.

“Now,” he moans, grabbing your jaw, forcing your lips to his as he slams his cock into you, setting himself alight; easing the incessant tug of his guilt until it’s a blunted thrum resting close to his heart.

When you shatter around him, he follows, wholly caught in the ebb and flow of his release; lost in the depths of this unsteady solution.

He stays with you through the night, eyes following the line of your body as you sleep. His hands are cold, he thinks, easing them beside you, but not for much longer.

The 31st is only four days away.

“Did he question you? Ask you for anything?” Getō’s words are lanced with care, his voice honey sweet as he steeples his fingers, peering at you with an avariciousness that makes you shake.

“He didn’t. I doubt it will happen again. I didn’t...I don’t want to...to… hurt––”

“What? Hurt him? He’s a half-breed monster. His feelings don’t come into this. Nor should yours; you have a family to think of, a mother who’s an invalid, a younger brother who can’t be depended upon, a father who’s a drunkard; too far gone to notice, or care, his eldest is missing; hasn’t attended her college classes in weeks... and your sister. Well, she’s still a child... much too young to suffer from your mistakes, don’t you think?”

“You’re the monster,” you grit, hands folded into your lap, nails pressing until blood wells under your fingertips.

“Perhaps,” he smiles. “We’ll be out of your way soon enough. Let me know if you show any signs of impregnation, would you? Any spawn you whelp will be useful; very useful indeed.”

notes: i was gonna name this something else, and i know the dates i am describing don’t match with the sabbat, but Beltane felt like a smoother fit.

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apples-r-rubbish · 4 years ago

Text

John (11 x reader) Part 2

Word count: 3.1k Warnings: Violence (!!!), death mention, alcohol mention, knives mention AN: I couldn’t wait to post this! So I ended up rewriting and editing some of this at a ridiculous time in the morning. Hope you like it! Thank you for the support on the first part, I know it’s not a lot but it means a lot to me. So thank you! Part 3 should be up in a few days maybe.

PART 1

You woke, after a dreamless night, memories rolling about your head, smells of burning throughout the house. Jumping to your feet, you began to panic, assuming the worst had happened you bolted down the stairs, dressed in nothing but the nightshirt john had leant you so you weren’t sleeping in a heavy dress.

“I smell burning, John, is everything alright? John?” You shouted as you entered the kitchen. John, noticed you and turned quickly to face a wall to hide his flushed face

“Dear, everything’s ok, I just burnt an attempt at breakfast, I’ve lifted out a spare toothbrush for you in the bathroom at the top of the stairs,” His breathing faltering slightly, realisation hitting him as he firmly faced the wall, hand covering his eyes “Maybe we could go out for breakfast considering I burnt this one?”

“Thank you, I’m so sorry I just was worried something was wrong. Especially after last night,” blush now radiating from your own cheeks.

You went upstairs brushed your teeth and changed quickly, and came back down the stairs,

“Do you mind if I use your phone again? I have another call to make, sorry,” You apologised quickly

“I’m going to start charging you for using it, but yes sure,” He teased before giving you some privacy. You dialled the Williams’ number again, Rory this time was the one to answer “statue, 45 minutes. We’re safe, currently playing music,” you said as you heard the radio turn on in the other room and lifted the phone in hopes he could hear it

“Statue? With him?” Rory asked, it was a meeting point to discuss things

“Nope just us, I’ll distract him before he gets to us,” You smiled into the phone and hung up before he could question you any further.

“Are your phone calls always that peculiar or is it just something you do when you're with me?” He asked with a small laugh as you entered his front room the radio loud

“Oh, only when you’re around. I have secrets to keep and friends to meet in three quarters on an hour,”

“Dance with me please,” He cut you off and then extended a hand to you, “no ifs, no secrets, no friends, no knives, just dancing.”

“Fine, you should know I am atrocious though,” You accepted his hand, with a small, sly smile

“At this point, nothing could surprise me, you could be a dancing champion and you’d still be humble about it,” You swayed awkwardly together, his hand on your waist, the other holding yours. He was surprisingly good, despite the doctors natural inability to dance. At one point he attempted to spin you and failed miserably, causing laughter to erupt between you both, your faces inching closer gradually. You blinked and his mouth was on yours, it felt foriegn and wrong, very un-doctor-like and confident. You realised and slapped him.

“No, you’re not doing that, we aren’t doing that. Not now,” You spluttered stepping back suddenly, teeth bared, wiping your lips with the back of your hand aggressively “You aren’t him, stop it, back off ”

“I’m not your old friend, (Y/N), I know, I just- I thought we had-”

“Save it. I’m leaving to meet my friends, thank you for the talk, and the bed, and the dance, but I’m leaving,” You picked up your coat, bag and slammed the door behind you, leaving John in awkward strong silence, rubbing his sore cheek.

By the time you’d met Amy and Rory you’d started weeping. You explained the whole situation to them, “I mean at least he’s still oblivious to the actual danger, that’s got to be small positive in all of this, they haven’t actually begun anything” Rory stated adjusting the cuffs on his shirt

“Not so great about the kissing though is it?” You finished sending a sharp glare back at him

“Definitely less of a positive, more of a neutral point, really, just a thing, that happened,” He stumbled "We'll go out tonight and you can forget about it.". They had found the watches one real, one fake, one in the TARDIS the other in his classroom. Plans could be set in motion. It was a Friday, the school day only began at 12 as the majority of students and staff attended a church service in the morning. You arrived with a handful of minutes to spare, ignoring the judgemental glares of your colleagues. The school was quiet, which wasn't a bad thing typically, but silent Fridays felt wrong and uncomfortable.

At some point during your day, an unfamiliar man walked into the office.

"Hello sir? Can I help you?" you questioned

"Ah yes, girl. I'm here to speak to my son. An issue has occurred at home and I need to make him aware of it. I'm Henry Baker, my son is William," he sounded stiff when he spoke as if his lines had been rehearsed

"Ah, he's in Mr Smith's class currently, I'll have to escort you there I'm afraid, school rules," you spoke, fake confidence filling your voice. You reached Mr Smith's classroom, cautiously you knocked not wishing to disturb his ramblings about ancient Greece or tudors.

"You may enter. Ah Miss (L/N)? What are you doing here? I- I mean how can I help you?" sadness crept into the edges of John's voice. You avoided his eyes, not wishing to think about dancing with him this morning and the feeling of his mouth against yours.

"William Baker, where is he?" you asked shortly

"Uh, no I believe he isn't attending today," he said leaning over his plinth and running a hand through his slicked down hair. It wasn't him.

"Thank you anyways, sir," you turned and left the room as the ramblings started again

"I'm afraid your son isn't here today. Allow me to escort you to the exit, Mr Baker," you apologised a fake smile plastered to your face, not allowing the man to argue or get into the classroom. He huffed, insisted it was fine and left silently. You wished you could sit in on one of John's lessons, listen to his monologues. They were too similar to the rants the doctor would go on when you caught him discussing an alien planet or a story from centuries ago.

After a mind numbingly boring few hours, the day ended, rushed home, got changed quickly and rushed back out again. The dance hall was busier than usual, when you arrived. You took a seat with Amy and Rory and were handed drinks. You had long calmed down after the events of the morning and simply wanted to drink, dance and smile with your friends and forget about the double life. John had entered the room and sent you a glance, you ignored it and Rory put his arm around you, like a protective big brother. Amy was rambling about a customer from work that day and their miniscule complaints about something, when a man approached your table, you had noticed him around a few times. He was gorgeous, dark brown eyes with freckles covering his face. His eyes seemed slightly dimmer than usual. “Excuse me, miss, sorry, my name’s Tom, I’ve seen you around here for a little while and I’ve always wanted to dance with you, I just never had the courage to ask, until now,” You accepted the invitation. His hand was colder than usual, and from the corner of your eye you watched the man that resembled the doctor shrink slightly in his seat. It’s true, Tom had been observing you and you had wanted to dance with him, if it weren’t for John and the aliens you would’ve asked him yourself.

You laughed and danced together for a few songs, until you had decided to sit back down at the table and Amy handed you another glass of wine, “Well you certainly had a good time, and he was cute, what a positive,” Amy spoke. You all laughed, John approached the table nervously. The laughter died in your throats. He’d dressed differently, rather than the standard longer tie, he’d swapped it for a bowtie and you all went pale upon realising it. “I don’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say unless it’s an apology,” You remarked before you could stop yourself, the wine taking initiative.

“I am deeply sorry, I crossed a line, I’m sorry the adrenaline from last night hadn’t worn off and I just think you’re really beautiful and I thought we’d connected,” he rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck “anyway, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry and I’d like to ask you to dance again, to make up for last time.” Rory shot you a concerned look and you stood up, ready to accept.

The doors swung open. A gang of men entered various voices shouting about an alien, and one of them waving their arms about.

"Everyone get out of here!" you screamed as they ran, "Get him to the school now. It's time for the plan. We need him. I'll follow. School! Now! Go!"

Amy and Rory nodded, pulling John away despite his many protests and attempts to fight back. If you were about to die, you were going to put on a show.

"What are you doing here madam?" One of them spoke

"Oh. Hello. Well you see the thing is I was about to dance with a man i did rather like but unfortunately, he's left now, shame really," you scoffed sarcasm dripping from your words, heart beating out of your chest. A cracking noise erupted from the men. You finally looked at them. Dotted amongst them was Mr Roscoe, Tom, Mr Baker and Edward Gray. Their heads tilted back in unison, as their mouths hung open, eyes now white and pale. The voice spoke. It was low,threatening and heavy.

"Where is the timelord? We can sense the artron energy on you. We are aware of your connections," the voice boomed. It wasn't coming from any of the people, it was simply existing appearing from nowhere as their faces twisted as they appeared to be choking.

"Let them go and we won't have any trouble-" You were cut short by a hard fist colliding with your face, and another in your stomach, and another, and another. Thinking fast you pulled out the sonic screwdriver and pressed a button on it. The men collapsed with a high pitch screech falling from then. Get out, was your only thought. So you did.

You ran, faster than you had ever possibly ran before. You’d reached the school quickly pushing the old oak doors open and slamming them behind you, then you were bombarded by two sets of arms around you

“God, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Amy cried a few tears on her face.

“With no offence meant, (Y/N), you look terrible,” Rory laughed tensely “I’ll have to look you over in a second, and before you ask, he’s fine and safe, just shaken and concerned about you,”

After Rory had checked you over, you pushed open the door to John’s classroom, he ran to you and tried to hug you

“Beware, I have quite a number of bruises, so I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said still rubbing at you split lip

“Oh God, did they do this to you? Are you alright? How could you have been so stupid?” John scalded through tears. He still acted like the doctor despite everything.

“John, I’m fine, it gave you and the others time so it’s ok. We need to barricade the main entrance,” You turned to the others “Pin, glass, soon. Do you have the needle too?” Amy nodded, she handed you a fake watch. More code.

“Great,” You smiled more at the item than her

“What? Why do you keep speaking in code? What is that? What does it mean? (Y/N), I’m tired and I need to know,” John stressed angry tears slipping from his eyes, this was too much for him.

“Hey, shush, it’s ok you’ll find out soon, we just have to get out of this situation and you’ll know all about it.” It technically wasn’t a lie.

“(Y/N), they’re coming,” Rory shouted from the other room. You grabbed John’s shirt in your hands, pulled him towards you, and kissed him, not giving him to process it. It’d seemed more like the doctor rather than the quiet confidence of John. “We’re even now. Don’t tell my friend” A small smile escaped your mouth.

“I promise, I won’t,” He whispered in response, shock still clearly in his system, an awkward laugh breaking the tension. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember. You walked into the hallway, a barricade in full effect “Amy get into the other room, keep him safe, try to convince him to open the watch,” She nodded and headed to the other room.

Rory was handed the fake watch, the needle, and an old antique sword from one of the many walls “Still got it, centurion? I’m going to need you to run as far as you can get that thing away from here, and get them to fight over it and get back here as fast as you can,” He nodded and ran out the back door after saying a brief I love you to Amy. Another antique sword was pulled off the wall by yourself and scabbard disregarded on the floor. There was a brief struggle against the old wooden doors and the barricade before they were smashed open.

“Hello, again, boys,” You smiled, waving the sword in one hand and sonic screwdriver in the other. If you wanted him to live, you had to act like the doctor “So unfortunately, I hate to break it you but if you are looking for the item that we refer to as the needle, it’s travelling as fast as possible in that direction with a 2000 year old roman centurion armed with a sword so unfortunately this detour has been a little bit pointless, I’m afraid dears.”

“You will die soon,” the voice rumbled,

“Will I now? I mean we all will at some point. I will say, however, it’d sound more convincing if I wasn’t a time traveller from the 21st century holding a sword and a powerful scientific device somewhere far beyond this planet, with enough knowledge of this town for you to lose in me for months.”

Their numbers had lowered, there were roughly seven left from the original back of twelve. Edward Gray stood in the centre, his head following your movements. Mr Roscoe was no longer with the group.

“Split up. We’re wasting resources. We’ve already lost some due to the device” The voice rumbled. Four of them including Edward and Henry rushed past you. Their feet dragging slightly along the floor as they ran, their footsteps uneven and heavy. One of the men that you’d seen around town took a step forward, his arm reaching for you, swiping your sword at him, you caught his neck. The body coughed up a blue liquid, mouth still hanging open, as he crumpled. Another ran at you, he thrusted something at you, a sharp pain in your neck. You pressed the sonic and waved it at him, he fell backwards, with a groan. The final man stepped forward, Tom. “Tom stop, fight it, think of your family and your friends, fight-” you were silenced by him slamming you against the wall by your throat. You were caught off guard breathing faltering. Tom grabbed the sword and twisted it towards you, the cool metal catching your skin.“You will die, you will die, you will die,” The voice repeated “insufferable time traveller, you will pay for this,” You screamed, the agony and blood hot. “Amy,” you wheezed, as your vision began to blur from the pressure on your throat. The door swung open, Amy slipped out quietly

“Hey, weirdo! Leave my friend alone,” She shouted her fist colliding with the face knocking him out. Slipping down the wall you gasped, relief and oxygen flooding your system.

“(Y/N), are you ok?” she asked observing the fresh wound

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Go after Rory, a few of them went after him, he needs you,” You explained kicking the sword towards her. Taking the sword in her hands, she nodded and ran. Feebly, you pulled yourself up, putting pressure on your wound as you wobbled into John’s classroom. He was crying slumped against a corner, “Are- Are you alright? Good God! You’re bleeding, did they hurt you? What happened to them?”

“John, dear, I’m fine just little scrapes,” you whisper kneeling down to his level your voice still weak “You’ll understand in a bit, we just need to do something first,”

“Amelia, already tried to convince me. I- I- I don’t want to open it. (Y/N), I don’t want whatever that was to be the normal for me, I’m scared, and I know that watch has something to do with it” He cried

“I know, it’s terrifying, but it’s the perception filter, making you think that,”

“And- And there you go again, nonsense words, unfathomable concepts. I heard what you said, the 21st century, the future, the amount of pain you must have seen. Do you think I hadn’t noticed the pain and loss in your eyes? I’m not your old friend, I’m John Smith, I’m a teacher here. Whoever you think I am, I can assure you I’m not,” You patted his arm, “I’m sorry you need to open it. I’m so sorry. I want to help but this is the only way I can” He looked between you and the watch, he cupped your face nervously and paused for a second, you nodded. Your lips gently collided.

“John, dear, I’m sorry,” You mumbled into his lips after a few calming kisses. He turned to the watch, you pushed yourself up and walked to the other side of the room. He turned the watch in his hands examining it gently

“I’ve loved you since I met you. You are beautiful, intelligent, and amazing. Maybe in another life,it might’ve worked out for us,” He looked up at you, tears still falling.

You opened your mouth to speak as the watch flicked open, you heard the man scream first, then windows shattering, squinting in an attempt to see him despite the golden light filling the room. Glass flew everywhere, wind bursting into the room. Eventually screaming stopped and so did the light. He fell to his knees with a thud.

“I’m back,” he mumbled his head slamming forward, the final wisps of gold light dissipating. Panic struck his face as he saw you.

PART 3

#doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #11th doctor #eleven x reader #Eleventh doctor x reader #self insert #self insert doctor who #self insert fanfiction #Doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction

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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

Text

Change of Plans

→ summary: So how did you and Seokjin meet? Now that the two of you are engaged, you’re ready to tell your friends the night you were supposed to get laid but didn’t. And it’s all your fiancé’s fault.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | college!au & est. relationship!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of hooking up, crude humor, tinder lmao

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: guys when i was editing this i laughed at my own fucking jokes ohmygod 🤡🤡

cr.

"So," Jungkook snorts, swinging his arm around Seokjin's shoulder as he looks at the happy couple curiously. "You're getting married."

"Hell, yes!" you say, pumping your fist. "Look at my ring."

Everyone around you groans.

"Y/N, we looked at your ring so many times, I think if someone told me to resculpt it blindfolded, I could," Yoongi sighs. He half annoyedly half defeatedly grabs a can of beer and downs it.

"Shut up, Yoongi," Daehyung says. "Y/N, your ring is beautiful," she gushes. "Yoongi's just jealous because he's single."

"It's beautiful because I helped Seokjin pick it out," Yoongi argues. "Even though I'm single, I have excellent taste."

"You also have a cocky attitude," you giggle, admiring how the sparkling ring fits perfectly around your ring finger. "But thank you. I appreciate the advice you gave my fiancé."

"Can you believe a year ago, I didn't even know your name?" Seokjin laughs, nudging you. Giving him an ungrateful glare, you push him back.

"Wait, really?" Jungkook says, eyes wide. "I thought you guys were college besties."

"No, they met on a hookup app," Daehyung giggles.

"Seriously??" Yoongi says.

"It wasn't exactly a hookup app," you pout. "We didn't even hookup."

"It was too a hookup app," Daehyung says. "Tinder, to be exact."

Everyone except you and Seokjin gasps dramatically.

"Come to think of it," Yoongi says, "you two never told us how you met."

"Yeah, and if we tell you, you're going to embarrass the shit out of me and my future wife when you give the best man speech at the wedding," Seokjin frowns. "I'm not setting myself up for humiliation."

"I promise I'll keep it a secret!"

"Hey, I thought I was the best man!" Jungkook yells.

"You can be the flower girl," you snort.

"What?!" the young bachelor shrieks.

"Can everybody shut the fuck up so I can hear this story again?" Daehyung yells at the top of her lungs.

"Again??" Seokjin says curiously. "When did you hear it the first time?"

"Oh, Y/N was drunk," Daehyung giggles. "When she's drunk, she spills straight up tea."

"Oops," you say when your fiancé gives you a dirty look. "Why do we have to keep it a secret, anyway?"

"Because it's embarrassing."

"Yeah, embarrassing for you. I sound like a hero."

"Y/N saves the day?" Yoongi grins. "And Seokjin wrecks something? What's new?"

"I'm this close to making you the flower girl," the engaged man threatens.

Yoongi shuts up.

"Oh, come on, babe, let's tell them the story," you plead. "It's so funny!"

"Yeah, for you."

"Learn to laugh at yourself, Seokjin," Daehyung chastises. "Plus it wasn't even that humiliating."

"God!" Jin shrieks. "Yes it was humiliating!"

"Shut up, you big baby," you say, patting the head of your soon-to-be-husband. "I'll take the floor now."

"Oh, god," Jin groans.

You grin in response. "Okay, it all started senior year of college... Monday... November 14th, 8:02 p.m..."

"It did not start then," Seokjin argues.

"Stop being so petty," Jungkook snorts.

"Wait, no Jin's right. It didn't start then," you giggle apologetically. Seokjin facepalms. "It started a week and a few days before November 14th."

"Does the date really matter?" Yoongi groans.

"Yes," you, Seokjin, Jungkook and Daehyung chorus.

Yoongi shuts up—for the second time that day.

"Okay, where was I?" you mumble. "Oh, right! It all started..."

Tinder is an annoying bitch.

It keeps pairing you up with dudes you know in your class. You are not going to have a one night stand with a guy and be stuck in a group project with him the next day. You're going to avoid that awkward possibility for as much as you can.

You've used the "dating" app off and on in your college years, but it's never amounted to anything more than craptastic hookups and hectic morning afters. So you deleted it.

Until early November when you had to third wheel Daehyung and her boyfriend to a local fair. You were so bored and desperate that you re-downloaded Tinder and started swiping. There are way too many hot guys on one app. It makes you start to wonder where all the hot guys in your school are.

There are a few guys who match with you, but it's clear that they are massive dodo brains when they start off the conversation with a one-worded 'hi' or 'send nudes plz' or the worst: 'your beautiful.' With the wrong 'your' and all. You don't even answer them.

But one guy's messages catch your eyes.

[SEOKJIN]: Roses are red

[SEOKJIN]: Let's test my luck

[SEOKJIN]: We should get in bed

[SEOKJIN]: So we can—

The unfinished poem leaves you almost choking on your own spit. If that wasn't creative, you don't know what is. After background checking his profile, you realize he's one of those hotties. You wonder what on earth he's doing texting you, but you're not going to miss this amazing chance.

[Y/N]: Fuck?

Seokjin replies about three seconds later.

[SEOKJIN]: Oh no that's so vulgar

[SEOKJIN]: I was going to say cuddle :((

You giggle. Sort of a low-grade joke, but what can you say? You're a complete sucker for those.

It's hard to find men these days who are perfect texters. Most men are dry, sending in one-word answers and letting emojis talk for them. Other men write way too much. Seokjin is right in the middle. Already, he has your attention. (Especially because you like his humor.)

The two of you text back and forth until you're back home in your bed. You would've texted him more but it was 3:04 a.m. and you had class the next day.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Seokjin, a complete stranger, mind you, tells you, 'goodnight. sweet dreams.'

What follows is a week's worth of texting. You've been swiping and texting other guys on the side, but if Seokjin's available, you ditch everyone else.

You learn that Jin's a history major and he despises STEM with all of his guts. You let him go on a ten-minute rant on why math should die all because it's adorable how he has so much supporting evidence for his argument. Seokjin had to backtrack and apologize when he learned that you majored in physics, though, which was hilarious. You could feel him blushing via text.

The more you text Seokjin, the more you want to meet him in person. Also, his Tinder bio promises mind-blowing sex, so you're down for that too.

On a fateful day, you finally somehow schedule a meeting with the hot man. Monday, November 14th at 8 p.m. You're to meet at Seokjin's little apartment (which seemed to be in a safe neighborhood). You have fun picking your lingerie with Daehyung. (You kept saying Seokjin would be the type to like pink and lace, but Daehyung argued that he'd like scarlet red and leather. But you kicked her out of your room and chose the pink lace lingerie set anyway.)

It was an understatement to say you were excited about this. You were elated, insanely thrilled. Not only did you find a hookup partner, but also you found a man you could potentially see yourself dating.

Daehyung keeps telling you not to get your hopes too high because in her words, "You've never even met the goddamn dude." But you know a gem when you see one. Unlike Daehyung. She's been off and on with about four different guys since the beginning of college. What does she know about love??

In the end, you want to be more than hookup material to Seokjin. But of course, that would be after you get laid tonight. The flirty wink faces and jokes were indicative that tonight would be a very, very enjoyable night. You just have to get to his apartment on time.

At precisely 8:02 p.m., you knock on his door. Okay, you were going to knock on his door when you originally got there (at 7:56 p.m.), but after consulting Daehyung, she said that it's better to make men wait. For once, her advice kind of makes sense. So you wait six minutes and then knock on his door.

"Oh shit!" you hear from the apartment.

You raise your eyebrows. He was expecting you, right?

"Just a second!!"

His voice is much smoother and more delicate than you thought.

You're dreaming about finally seeing his beautiful face in person when the door opens. Damn. He's really, really hot. You feel on fire just looking at him. But you quickly see that the man is panting. He's also sweating.

"O-Oh, is this a bad time?"

"Fuck," Seokjin curses. He runs his finger through his silky black hair. "Uh..." He trails off, eyes darting below to see just a sliver of your pink lace lingerie set peeking out from under your black coat. He gulps. You can see his Adam's apple bob. He exudes this warm, chaotic energy you wouldn't have expected from someone who looks so well-put-together as him. But you kind of find that hot.

"Okay, change of plans," Seokjin finally gasps out. He tugs you in his apartment and holds out a good stack of papers. "College happened."

You laugh. "What??"

"Okay, remember when I told you I fucking hate math?"

"Yes??" The ten-minute rant—how could you forget something so iconic?

"Well, I made a huge mistake of taking accounting this year and now I'm behind on five assignments that are all due tomorrow—"

"Oh god."

"Don't worry. I'm going to get it all done. So we can uh..." Seokjin glances at your scandalous outfit behind the confines of your coat. "Finish the rest of my poem."

"In that case..." You roll up your long sleeves. "Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?"

"Y-Yeah," Seokjin says. He dashes away and after a split second, he comes back with a navy, oversized t-shirt. "Here."

"Thank you!" you chirp. "Now," you say, tying your hair up in a messy bun and gesturing toward the heap of paper Seokjin is holding, "I took accounting two years ago, but I'm sure I remember all the essential stuff. Wanna get to work?"

Seokjin looks at you like you're an angel.

"Shut up!" Jungkook laughs so hard he almost falls over. "You're telling me that you were going to get laid, but you got cockblocked by Seokjin's procrastination??"

"Yes! I know!" you snort. "But it's a good thing I can actually do math. Unlike Mr. I-hate-math-so-much-I-barely-do-my-homework, here."

"In my defense..." Seokjin trails off. "I don't have an excuse, actually."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Did you finish the assignments, though?"

"Why are you guys asking the irrelevant questions?" Daehyung sighs. "Shouldn't you guys ask if Y/N got laid like she was supposed to??"

Seokjin grumbles. "We finished the assignments in three hours."

"We??" you say incredulously.

"Okay, fine. Y/N did more than half of it because I had no idea what was going on."

"And I did get laid!" You pump a victorious fist in the air. "But it was really late and I fell asleep before we even got to the good part."

"So she got properly laid in the morning," Seokjin snickers. "And it was so good she left after having breakfast."

"I think I fell for him because he can cook so well," you laugh. "And he felt extra bad about the night before so he made a three-course breakfast meal."

"Oh my god, men who finesse in the kitchen," Daehyung gushes. "Why haven't I caught a case like that yet?"

"Your personality is your birth control, bro," Jungkook snorts. "I thought you knew."

"I will shove a pregnancy test up your fucking ass," Daehyung threatens.

"How do you know I won't like how that feels?"

"SHUT UP!" Yoongi screams. "DON'T PAINT THAT PICTURE IN MY HEAD."

You and Seokjin give each other another look. Ever since you introduced Daehyung to Seokjin's two best friends, it's been... uh, chaotic. At this point, you're not sure if your friends argue out of pure love or pure hatred.

But the fact that Jungkook uses the same flirting tactics of a pre-teen boy explains a lot about his relationship with Daehyung.

"At this rate, do you even want these people at the wedding?" Seokjin whispers jokingly.

"I heard that!" Daehyung shrieks. "I will be at the wedding whether you want it or not!"

"Don't worry," you laugh. "You're going to be my maid of honor!"

"Whew," Daehyung sighs. "Since I'm your maid of honor can I uninvite Jeon Jungkook for being an asshole?"

"Hey!"

"No, we're putting you two in the same table at the afterparty dinner," Seokjin grins. "And Yoongi, you'll be there to witness the madness."

"Lovely," the sarcastic man gripes.

"Exactly!" you say.

But it is lovely indeed.

You never thought your ability to zoom past accounting assignments would ever come to use. Until Seokjin opened up a whole new door for you. Sure, you wanted a plain ol' hookup, but instead of getting dick, you got yourself a boyfriend. And now a fiancé.

If you think about it, now you have an endless supply of dick—all from the same, magnificent man. So it all worked out in the end.

Before all of your friends leave after the friendly gathering, you tug Yoongi to the side and pay him a hundred bucks to retell the hilarious story in his best man speech. Once money is involved, Yoongi will do anything.

Sure enough, on the faithful day of the wedding, and quite to Seokjin's horror, Yoongi tells the story of how you and Seokjin had first met—leaving out explicit details to save the ears of the older guests. But the story leaves everyone in tears of laughter.

Seokjin is so enamored by the attention that he doesn't even get angry at Yoongi.

"I'm glad I took that stupid accounting class!" he announces at the afterparty. "If it hadn't been for Professor Le Chory and his endless assignments, I would've never met my wife!"

And when the party's over and the two of you go off to your shared apartment to rest before going on your honeymoon trip to Yeousu, Seokjin clears his throat.

"Yes??" you say, giggling as Seokjin shyly fidgets with his hands. "Did you break something again?"

"No!" he says. "I just thought of another poem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. But if this keeps up, you'll become a poet, Jin."

"I know," your husband grins. He takes a deep breath and recites the poem from memory, closing his eyes as he concentrates on each word.

Roses are red,

You are now my wife,

We should sleep in bed,

So tomorrow, and until forever, I'll show you the time of your life.

With Seokjin, life is spontaneous. But you don't really mind. Living in the moment and changing your plans as they go isn't too bad.

Especially when you wake up the next morning and Seokjin announces instead of Yeousu, the two of you will embark on a journey to Jeju instead.

Perfect. You've always wanted to visit Jeju Island.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #seokjin #jin #kim seokjin #jin imagine #jin fanfic #jin fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #this fic is short #but i couldn't waste the idea #everybody needs a spontaneous seokjin in their lives #if seokjin asked me to do his math hw i would do it GLADLY #change of plans

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g--r-e--e-n · 4 years ago

Text

Of herbs and riddles Pt.1

Pairing: GN! MC x Satan.

Content: Fantasy AU for Obey me! MAX that was supposed to be posted as a whole but I can't fully finish it on time so at least have this :')

Warnings: It says hell at some point but I'm not sure if that's a swearword. Pretty sure anything else is not worrying, please tell me if you think otherwise so I can properly tag any sort of danger away!

(Edit: Apparently says "hell" several times. Sue me or something, I'm already crying either way.)

"Good morning, sir!" You cheerfully welcomed the young man crossing your apothecary's door. "How may I help you?"

He smiles softly, reaching the counter and looking you with the most beautiful piercing eyes you had ever seen.

"Good morning to you too." The man greets elegantly, his golden hair reflecting the candlelight filling your modest shop, the morning sun still to weak to allow the flames to die as they had been made to. By his clothes and the softness of his long and slender fingers, you soon understood he was one of those few big fishes passing by this small pound that your village is. "My dear brother has gained quite a wicked heartburn after a rather copious dinner. I was hoping you would have some remedy for his condition."

"Sure thing, sir!" You gladly answered. You loved your work as much as it was possible, and having such an interesting customer was definitely a plus, specially since foreigners were known for their generous tips. "Let me see..."

You begin wandering around your store, the magic candles now dying to let the soft sun come through the window.

The young blonde man stared quietly at you, following you quietly and looking over your shoulder towards the dried leaves and small bottles. He had seen many in his books, old as time itself, yet memorizing all of them would've been imposible within a mortal lifetime. However, instead of jealous, he felt mesmerized. There were little things he admired as much as knowledge, and you were filled with it.

Getting his head our from those thoughts, you turned around with some little bags.

"Give him a cup of chamomile tea and root of Ginger, he shall be fine sooner than a cock sings. If he's not, come over again and I'll give you a special bred of tea I'm working on." You started walking towards the counter again, closely followed by your customer and the smell of the herbs. "Giving him something to chew on rather than eat could help him too, if you feel on a rush."

"Thank you" He absentmindedly replied, the jewels in his eyes lost in the little bags you handed over, a slight hope blossoming in your chest. He said nothing about being unable to come again, so perhaps he was a newcomer rather than a traveler. "How much?"

"Two pieces for the root, the rest is on the house" you replied, keeping your smile as you handed the goods over. "After all, you're new here, aren't you?"

Your client stared at you, taking the plants and handing you the money ever so graciously you felt like you had met an angel. Four coins weighted down your hand.

"That we are." He softly said, a smile to his face. "My older brother came for a gig, he was the main wizard in the neighboring village, but he soon fell in love with this land of yours and made all of us tag along."

There was something this guy wasn't telling you, you just knew.

"Are you a wizard too, sir?"

"Not quite. I'm just a librarian." He vaguely answered, shrugging. "And I better get home before my brothers begin to grief me."

You let go a soft laugh, as he flashed you another of his smiles, turning his back to you, hand waving in the air as his silhouette.

"Wait!" You stopped him. You needed his name, something, anything, and you didn't even know why.

"Yes..?"

"... Don't let him drink milk. Makes it worse."

He laughed a bit, saying something you didn't quite want to hear, too embarrassed. What the hell had just happened?

You sighed, trying your best to keep on working, sorting your material and attending the folk with a smile brighter than the sun itself.

You had made yourself a name thanks to your knowledge, being one of the few fools to dedicate your life to science when magic was a thing. Nobody would've betted anything on you, but here you were, healing people better than any witch ever could, knowing by heart every plant that grew around your hometown.

It had been hard, but you felt like you were living a good life. You felt happy with your own situation, and after the librarian's visit, you could barely keep your heart from bouncing in excitement, hoping to meet him again.

Your chance, of course, took you fully by surprise, way sooner than expected.

It had been four days, and you were about to close after a pretty exhausting day of work when the librarian entered the place, any complains dying on your throat at the sight of his worry.

"Good evening sir, are you alright? Is it your brother again?"

You walked over to him, concern painted all over your face, but not daring to invade his personal space.

"No. Yes. What you gave me last time worked marvelously. It's not that." He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. You could see the dark skin under them. "It's other brother, actually. He's a reckless young man, and got himself in a fight. His condition is not serious, but he keeps on complaining about the scars that might be left in his face. Do you think you could help him?"

Oh. So his brother was that one idiot that tried to get away without paying from the butcher. God, you hoped he wasn't too bad.

"Yes, sure, one second." You nod before looking from plants again, his gaze fixed upon them as last time, making you somehow nervous. Perhaps a little conversation could help, while you grab the herbs. "So... Have you been sleeping fine, sir? You seem rather tired to me."

You slowly turn around, some bottles resting in your arms, softly clinking against each other as you walked towards the counter.

"I'm reading a book full of riddles." He admitted, feeling oddly at ease withing your little shop. "This far I've solved them all, yet there's one that I can't quite lay my finger on."

You start mixing substances, peeling carefully some aloe.

"Well, why don't you tell me the riddle? Maybe I can help you out."

The librarian stared at you in disbelief. Did you really think you could solve something he didn't?

Of course, he didn't really want to refuse, and would much rather see you fail by yourself.

"Sure thing" he says with a smile, his eyes shining dangerously. "I am valued by men, fetched from afar, Gleaned on the hill-slopes, gathered in groves,

In dale and on down.

All day through the air,

Wings bore me aloft, and brought me with cunning

Safe under roof.

Men steeped me in vats.

Now I have power to pummel and bind,

To cast to the earth, old man and young.

Soon he shall find who reaches to seize me,

Pits force against force, that he's flat on the ground,

Stripped of his strength if he cease not his folly,

Loud in his speech, but of power despoiled

To manage his mind, his hands or his feet.

Now ask me my name, who can bind men on earth,

And lay fools low in the light of day."

You rise an eyebrow, sealing mixing your little beverage with as much energy as you could gather.

"Sir, you must be kidding me. How could not figure that out?" You questioned, staring at the liquid to check it's colour and quality. "It's mead. Honey mead, they make some at the monastery up the hill. At times I use it to make some of my beverages taste nice, it makes any biter taste disappear."

The librarian blinks a couple times. He had thought wine to be the answer, which apparently was a close call, but whatever you were talking about didn't really ring a bell.

"It's an alcoholic beverage, right?

"Never tried it?" You were rather surprised, really. He looked like a fine man, one of those who would attend hundreds of fancy dinners. How can he not know his liquors?.

"My brothers don't like me drinking." He admits, a defeated smile to his soft lips. "I pretty much stick to tea most of the time."

"At least it's healthy!" You smile at hin, handing the mix. "Here you go, sir. It's oily and a bit thick, the onion extract might itch a bit, but worry not, it'll work perfectly. Rub it against any mark your brother might have left and it will soon be gone. If the mark happens to be darker than his skin, cut a lemon in two and rub it against the wound."

"Thank you." The blonde man smiled cheerfully, your conversation very obviously pleasing him. You had no idea how close he was to ripping the book's pages apart because of that damn riddle. "How much?"

"Two coins shall suffice, sir!" You handed him your gooey mix, receiving five whole coins in exchange. Your eyes wide . "Sir, I beg your pardon, but isn't this a bit too much? You already paid me double last time!"

He shakes his head gently.

"Two for the medicine, two for the riddle, and one for humouring me. What is it but fair?"

He messed up your hair before you could complain, soon heading home to his brothers, leaving the fire grow on your cheeks, too stunned to even close the shop as you were supposed to.

You couldn't help but find yourself hoping to meet him again, waiting for another three days to go by. Your dear librarian, however, took very little time.

In two days, he was already in front of you again, while you attended your neighbor's cuts, not allowing yourself to get your attention from the poor man no matter how handsome your new favorite customer was.

In a few minutes, your neighbor had already paid and waved you goodbye, happy as ever. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling like a fool, loving your job, before finally paying the librarian some attention.

"Good afternoon, sir! How may I help you today?"

"It's one of my brothers" he said, to none of your surprises. Honestly, he must be wasting a fortune in helping them. How many brothers did he even have? "He's been failing asleep during his shift at work, through his studying lessons, and I'm afraid he'll end up sleeping his days away. Would you be able to help me?"

You nood, soon heading to fish some herbs, as always followed by the tall man and his cryptic gaze. You didn't even know his name yet, but something about him felt like meeting an old friend.

"You know, I usually would give you some green tea, but..." You softly smile, pulling something from the bottom of your shelf before facing the young man, showing him your little treasure. "A friend of mine likes to travel. At times, he brings me this to help me whenever I feel tired or sick. I'm not exaggerating when I say it makes miracles! It's called Siberian Gingsen, but you might as well call it the holy grail. Just please remember to keep the dosage small and preferably during mornings, unless you want your brother to stay awake all night. "

Your customer nods, listening closely.

"Your brother does not have any heart issues, does he?" You ask, slightly ridding off your excitement. "We could try something else then."

He softly shakes his head.

"No, don't worry. That little brat is surprisingly healthy seeing as how he spends his days doing nothing." He sighs. As much as he enjoyed Belphegor's company, at times it was a bit worrying. No human should sleep this much without being considered dead. "How much is it?"

You stare at the Gingsen, struggling a bit. You had never thought of actually selling it, but it's not like you needed it anyways, so that's not really a reason to rise the prize. Still, it's an imported good, right?

You sigh, realizing you needed an assistant more than you'd like to, before going back to your default smile.

"Two coins shall suffice, sir!" You gifted him a smile Satan knew he would not forget in some days now. Despite his blush, he handed you four coins. "Sir, please..."

"Two for the remedy. Two for... Going to the fair tomorrow?" His words surprised you, and even if you tried your best to hide it, you were red up to your ears. "I heard from some villagers you don't usually frequent that sort of events, so I really won't mind it if you decline, but... I think we could have a nice time there."

His gentle, genuinely caring tone softly melted your heart, sweet as belladonna and just as dangerous.

You didn't really have a life aside from the shop and, at times, the market. All your free time was spent diving between pages, looking for all the information you could gather, and something in this almost stranger's eyes told you he wasn't really a party kind of person. God, ge didn't even know honey wine.

"Sir, I... I don't even know your name." You mumbled, confused, not used to how blunt this gentleman was, not even moving his eyes, calling yours like light calls a moth.

"Oh. Right." He said, faking surprise, not really willing to admit he liked being called "sir" ever so politely, fairly sure it would ruin the whole mood. "I'm Satan. A pleasure to meet you..."

He expectantly looked at you, and soon you gifted him your name, his new favorite sound.

"And now that you have a name to call me by, will you come to our little date?" He tried his best to sound secure, fearing he already knew the answer. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not coming off as too strong. I just-"

"No, it's fine. Why not?" You smile as you best can, still nervous, but way too afraid the situation would worse with Satan's lose tongue. "Let's meet tomorrow morning at the fountain, shall we? Usually there's music as early as sunrise, I'm sure you'll adore it."

"Then I'll trust you" he answered, genuinely glad this turned out so nicely. It almost seemed like a dream. "Now, I shall go before that brother of mine falls asleep again."

And just as elegantly as he had entered, he left, his image lingering in your memory for a while.

A date.

You were having a date.

A date with the gorgeous foreigner who just so happened to frequently visit your shop.

A date with Satan.

What the hell.

#obey me!#obey me #obey me satan #satan x mc #swd satan #Satan x reader #om! swd #om!#om! satan #om! fanfic #gn!reader #Gn!MC

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Bet You Can’t {4}

Chris Evans x Uriah & Chris Hemsworth x Summer

Crossover-Collab Five-Part Miniseries

Warning: Cursing, Fun & Games, Mild Raunchy Talk, Tiny Bit Of Angst

Words: 2.7K

Summary: Uriah and Chris are happily married. A night of relaxing with your best friends Chris and Summer Hemsworth brings up “No Nut November.” Once you hear it, you know where it’s leading. It was all jokes until somehow it turned serious. The Chris’ strike a full-on bet while dragging their better halves into the madness. The rules are simple, for the entire month of November none of you will have sex, none of you will get that nut in any way. Whichever couple makes it get bragging rights, and the 10k pool bet money. Whichever couple doesn’t make it has to change their social media name to “Failed NNN” for a week and post/tweet as normal and go on IG live to announce their failure. The bet is rigged though when Uriah and Summer decide to sabotage their husbands and make a side bet on who could make their husband fail quicker. All’s fair in love and war, and this is war.

Note: Got this idea from a group conversation with my friends, where a debate broke out about women being stronger and more able to survive NNN than men. It got me thinking, hmmm we know Chris has a dirty mind, dirty mind has to equal freak and always wanting to fool around.

It was too much fun working with @oceanscorazon a while back for her part one to out first collab titled Rumors & Waves. Look out for part two coming soon. I had to do it again. Thank you to the beautiful and phenomenal Amber @oceanscorazon for agreeing to this!!!

This will be a five-part story to be posted one chapter a week to show what November is like for Chris and Uriah. @oceanscorazon will also write four parts to show that November is like for Chris and Summer.

***So for Chris and Uriah’s timeline, this is before the events of Rumor Has It.

***Images do not belong to me***

***Loosley Edited/Proofread***

🍁 🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

-Week Three-

Every marriage has times of ups and downs, times where the passion is searing and intense, times where you can’t keep your hands off each other, as well as times where you both need space, and things fizzle out. That is a normal part of every marriage, or so he’d heard from several of his married friends. One thing that he was learning was what goes on in his friends’ marriages was not what went on in his.

Since the day he’d met you there was never a time that the two of you needed space from each other. Both of you loved spending every waking moment with each other and if you couldn’t physically be with the other you were always on facetime, always texting. The passion hadn’t died down at all, nothing had fizzled. In fact, as time passed everything in your marriage just intensified.

That was probably one of the reasons why this No Nut November challenge was so hard. You’d never had to keep your hands off each other, never had to restrain yourselves from how you expressed your love, devotion, and desire for the other. It wasn’t that your marriage was based on sex; that was far from the truth. Sex was just another of the fun and thrilling ways the two of you could express how you felt about each other.

If you were angry with each other, the sex was always intense and rough. If one or both of you needed emotional reassurance the sex was tender and sweet. If there was alcohol involved it was fun and spontaneous. It was an expression for both of you.

Three weeks. Three weeks in. He had one more week to go after this one and he was going crazy. He’d thought he could handle this when he and Hemsworth came up with the idea. Back then it seemed easy peasy. It seemed like such an easy thing and was sure you’d be on board. Now after sleeping in the guest bedroom for the last five days, he’d come to see the error in his ways. The deep error.

Laying in the king-sized bed and staring up at the ceiling it was yet another night sleeping away from you. another night of him tossing and turning trying to find a comfortable spot knowing damn well he’d never find one unless he was beside you. The last week’s sleep was the worst he’d ever had, and it showed in everything he did. He was short with everyone he spoke to, his energy was low, his focus and concentration dwindled, and everything was twenty times harder.

You, on the other hand, looked to be doing just fine. You didn’t look tired, you looked like you were getting good sleep. Your voice was always preppy, you gave no indication you were anything but happy. The only sign he saw was when you dealt with him. Your words were shorter, your body language was strained as if you were holding yourself back. You barely looked at him and barely got next to him. You didn’t let him touch you either, not even something small as a touch of your hand. He was definitely feeling the freeze out and it was giving him frostbite among other things.

Groaning he sat up in the moonlit room and threw one of his pillows across the room. The frustration he was feeling was just about at his limit. His phone went off and he leaped for it thinking it was Uriah.

MSG Hemsworth: How are the rabbits holding up?

He rolled his eyes and had the urge to throw the whole phone away.

MSG Hemsworth: I know you’re up and that you read the message, mate. I can see the read notification. Come on.

MSG: What do you want Hemsworth?

MSG Hemsworth: You sound salty.

MSG: You sound like your wife. I thought you were your own man.

MSG Hemsworth: Oh yeah, you’re real salty. Someone feeling the effects of three weeks of being shut out?

He wanted to kick his ass for getting him into this.

MSG: So you know I have not been shut out.

MSG Hemsworth: Oh really? Are you admitting you’ve lost and given in?

MSG: I haven’t lost. Thanks to you my wife kicked me out of my bed and my room. I am now in the guest room.

MSG Hemsworth: Yeah I was kicked out to the guest room two days ago. The kids now sneak in at night and use me as their pillows.

A snort escaped him. he was pleased to hear that he was not the only one who was suffering. If he knew Summer and he knew Summer, she was giving him hell.

MSG: Serves you right for dragging me into this.

MSG Hemsworth: One more week Evans, you can handle that. Then you can go to town.

This time he had to laugh. Just picturing his Aussie accent saying those words was too much.

MSG: Riah is pissed. I think I took this too far. I haven’t seen her this pissed in a while.

MSG Hemsworth: If this is seriously affecting your relationship then we should end it.

He thought about it for a few moments and he knew the smartest route to take was ending the bet, but he also knew he’d never hear the end of this. Groaning again he hit his head on the beadboard. “Damn it!” He knew his competitive nature would get his ass in real trouble.

MSG: One more week. That’s enough time for you to lose.

MSG Hemsworth: Shit, I just might. Summer just came in wearing very little. Jesus Christ, this woman is going to be the death of me.

MSG: Go die happy then.

MSG Hemsworth: I’m not nearly as easy as she thinks I am.

He laughed again and shook his head; he knew his friend was full of shit.

MSG: Whatever. We know who wears the pants man.

MSG Hemsworth: I am the only one wearing pants right now. My god.

MSG: Ew. I don’t want to hear that. Go away. Goodbye.

He tossed his phone back onto the nightstand and got out of the bed. As he paced the room he decided to go to you and test the waters. The halls were quiet and with every step, his nerves increased. He felt like he was either marching to his death or the very first night he took her out. When he got to the bedroom door he stood there and took several breaths hoping to calm his nerves. As he touched the doorknob he paused. He knew he needed a good reason. Quickly he thought up an excuse and knocked on the door.

There was no response for almost thirty seconds, then he knocked again. still, you didn’t answer.

“Can I come in, Riah? I need something.” He pressed his ear to the door trying to listen for what you may be doing on the other side.

“Come.” Your voice was faint.

Slowly he turned the knob and cautiously walked inside his own bedroom like a visitor. You were lying in the bed with your back turned to the door. He could see the glow from the tv on your skin and knew you were naked. For more evidence the way the duvet just carelessly covered the swell of your ass told him all he needed to know. He tried not to stare but he couldn’t help it. You were strewn across the bed across your side and his. Your head perched on a stack of pillows and your hair tied up in your head tie. He knew underneath your hair was wrapped perfectly. He’d spend many nights just watching you do that very thing always mesmerized by how effortless you made it look.

He didn’t realize he’d been standing there for a minute too long until you shifted on the bed to a different position. A position that had the duvet falling lower and giving him a glimpse of the flesh on your ass. He stifled a groan and looked away in an effort to contain himself.

“Riah.” It was a little louder than a whisper. He wasn’t sure you heard it. when you didn’t answer right away he was sure you hadn’t. “Dragonfly.”

Instantly he felt the tension in the room decrease. It was enough to give him some courage.

Slowly, he approached the bed and your bare back. You were close enough for him to touch. All he had to do was just reach out to you. He wondered if you’d pull away, or tell him to get out. when the back of his hand grazed the soft, supple skin of your back you took a sharp breath in, but you didn’t pull away. He trailed the back of his fingers along your spine upward to your shoulder blade. When he made it to the back of your neck he traced the pattern of a heart there. It was your code.

Whenever either of you traced that pattern at this spot no matter where you were, it was always code for the other person to know just how in love the other was, how much their very existence depended on the other, how much they really desired them. He’d use it every chance he got when you were out together around people, every chance he got he was swirling a heart on your neck and every time he did your reaction was instantaneous. He knew that you remembered.

“God darlin’, I love you so much. I miss you.” He didn’t care if he sounded needy or weak. He was speaking the truth, a truth he knew she needed to hear. He needed to hear the words too—he needed to hear your words.

After waiting for several moments, he sighed when he realized you weren’t going to even acknowledge him there. It hurt; he wasn’t going to lie. It hurt a hell of a lot. Accepting the defeat, he dropped his hand and stepped back from you ready to retreat. When he turned to walk out your voice stopped him.

“Wait.” Your voice was low, timid and almost clouded. When he turned back to you, your back was still to him. He waited, waited for any sign from you. This was your show. You moved more onto the bed leaving enough space for him. wasting not even a second he slid into the bed behind you and wrapped his arms around you. Once his skin touched yours he audibly sighed feeling an actual decrease in tension his body held. It felt like coming home after a long trip.

Neither of you moved. He stayed where he was nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck just enjoying your smell. God, he’d missed you. A moan escaped him and that started a chain reaction. He pressed his body closer to yours trying to get as close as possible. From there, his hands moved of their own accord. From your waist, they went to your hip then down your thigh and back up to your hip. Your skin was so damn soft.

Without even knowing it he kissed your neck, then your shoulder and down your arm and back to your neck. By the time he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to. A peck quickly turned more passionate and soon he was moving under the duvet you were under. To his delight and dismay, he found you were naked. His head said stop, move and leave but his heart easily eclipsed it. his heart was the one who made the decision to urge you to turn to him with his hand on your hip. When you turned to him and your eyes met he could see you.

For the last week, you’d been so detached, so cold, so angry that your exterior easily mirrored those emotions. Everything he’d tried you shot down, he thought it would be weeks before you even began to let him next to you, but here you were. You looked vulnerable and unsure of yourself. That was new, he thought. He was used to you being this confidant woman who embodied sexy. You knew you were gorgeous and knew that he was under your spell every minute of every day. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pressing his lips to yours he kissed you softly. It was an exploratory kiss, one that was meant to feel you out, test the waters—see where he stood. You didn’t kiss him back, so he deepened the kiss and coiled his tongue around yours. Your moan vibrated against his lips sending tiny shockwaves of desire through him. Just as he was going to take lead again you pulled back.

“Don’t do this if I’m not what you want,” you whispered with your forehead pressed to his.

“You’re kidding right, Riah. You’re always what I want. I need you.” You searched his eyes for the truth, but he’d already given it. “I love you so much, Uriah—so fucking much.”

You crashed your lips to his and in the same breath rolled on top of him. your nakedness pressed on him was the last straw in his control. The two of you moaned and writhed atop the bed kissing each other each of you fighting for control over the other. He loved this. Early on in your relationship, he realized you had more than one side to you. You weren’t only submissive to him, but you also liked to play dominant. He always thought a submissive woman was what he needed but in truth, he craved both, but only with you. He rolled on top of you and pinned your hands to the bed. The action produced a growl from you that didn’t help his arousal.

Flicking off the duvet you were revealed to his eyes and he slowly drank you in. “God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life.” You didn’t speak immediately instead you stared into his eyes then cupped his jaw.

“Let’s make a baby.”

His groan was instant. Jesus Christ, he thought. His weakness. The one thing you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. You knew he wanted a baby—a baby with you. you knew since coming to an agreement in Sydney it was high on your combined priority list. You both wanted to start a family and were actively trying.

“Put a baby in me,” you whispered again before he felt your feet at his hips where the waistband of his shorts were putting your torturous flexibility on display. He then felt you push them lower all the while never breaking eye contact with him. You were pulling out your reserve card. He wondered if you’d play it and had gone three weeks wondering. He didn’t need to wonder anymore.

“I’m ovulating. Tonight is your window.” He groaned again and dropped his head to the crook of your neck when he felt his length flop from inside his shorts and nudge against your spread flesh.

“God, you’re not being fair.”

“You said you want a baby. Let’s make one. Let me make you a daddy.” Your words were the best dirty talk he’d ever heard in his life. He didn’t need to hear “fuck me” or “come inside of me so hard I feel like I’m splitting in two.” No, he didn’t need to hear any of that anymore, not since Sydney. All he needed to hear was “put a baby in me” and “I’m ovulating.” He would have laughed but this was no laughing matter. His wife was trying to seduce him with the prospect of impregnating her.

“Is that what you want, kitten? You want me to give you a baby?”

“No, I want you to fuck me so hard and so good that I see stars and scream your name until I can’t scream anymore and you come so deep in me that my body has no other option than to give us a baby.” His cock spasmed with the need to be inside of you. You were going to kill him, and he was bout ready to die. This was it. Check fucking mate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chrisgalore @chaneajoyyy @rynabarnesrogers @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @ab-baybay @sonjashuterbugjohnson @caramara3 @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @motivation-idontknowher @lo-cheu @momobaby227 @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @queenbetter @jesseswartzwelder @briellableu @titty-teetee @zaddysqueen7 @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @ajspencer1892 @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @sup3rn0va13 @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic

#bet you can't fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Hemsworth #chris evans x ofc uriah #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #no nut november

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spiteweaver · 4 years ago

Text

Feldspar Couples and My Impressions of Them--

Banrai and Dreamweaver: soft, warm, safe; the old married couple down the street who have been together for 50+ years and are still madly in love with one another; rarely ever fight unless there’s some serious drama going down (like Dreamweaver’s enormous hero complex)

Ozymandias and Thalassinus: Big Calm + Little Chaos, except Thal is actually really tall, Ozy is just taller; opposites attract to such an extreme that no one is entirely certain how they’ve managed to make it work; lots of complicated history to unpack

Mergo and Argus: PDA Kings; there is not a second of the day in which they are not flirting; extremely passionate, their romance burns hotter than the sun; both suckers for sweet-talking, so they try to out-sweet-talk each other; also a complicated history, but they’ve already unpacked it

Solaire and Hollyhock: Somehow even more of an old married couple than Banrai and Dreamweaver; literally two gays in an idyllic woodland cottage surrounded by flower gardens; so in awe of one another it almost hurts to look at them when they’re together

Abaddon and Shard the Radiant: The domestic couple that no one expected to be so domestic; spent most of their time together lounging around doing nothing, just enjoying each other’s company; poetically tragic, yet heartwarmingly eternal

Zo and Shard Junior: Took a book out of Abaddon and The Radiant’s handbook, became the clan’s new domestic daddies; very good at getting into trouble, but their love for each other and their children always sees them through; absolute anime protagonists

Tau and Copernicus: Most tragic couple second only to Abaddon and The Radiant; still adjusting to the loss of Tau’s wings, lots of guilt shared between the both of them (even though it wasn’t their fault); achingly tender; favorite dates are walks through the territories, hand-in-hand

Juneau and Penitence: Another delightful instance of opposites attracting in just the right way; quiet, thoughtful, can communicate without words; perhaps a bit awkward, but that only makes the clan root harder for them; both learning how to behave like normal fucking dragons, with varied results

Jasmine and Hyacinth: Clan Dad Energy; absolutely disgustingly in love, excel at professing this love publicly in increasingly embarrassing ways; too pretty to live, too powerful to die; insatiable flirts who are always interested in adding to their beautiful family

Wilcox and Wayland: Don’t really act like they’re in love, but are actually ride or die for each other; low-key lovey-doviest couple in the clan; too pretty to live, too powerful to die: chaos cult edition; partners in romance and in crime

Halcyon and Aurelius: Flawless individuals; legitimately a relationship out of a fairytale, but not, like, a fucked up fairytale; the gentlest, most sickeningly sweet couple who will take you in and become your new dads if your old dad is mean to you; radiant

Ash and Bryn: I love when the opposites attract; tender green bean + wild-hearted ranger = a crazy love story that I won’t get into because that would be spoilers; lots of cheek-cupping, face-holding, forehead-touching action; definitely one of the strongest bonds in the clan

Atsushi and Carnelian: Bastard Power Couple; they’ve been well-behaved up until now, but I anticipate antics from them now that they’ve gotten comfortable as b o y f r i e n d s; a fucking disaster of a relationship that somehow resulted in an unshakeable bond, and still my absolute faves

Branwen and Calcifer: Two grownass men discovering love for the first time and trying not to burn down the capital like a couple of teenagers; lots of teasing, communicate through loving sarcasm; the kind of boyfriends who see something in a shop window and buy it without any regard for the price because, “Oh he’d like this.”

Faust and Holloway: THE ULTIMATE CHAOTIC POWER COUPLE; have developed morals since settling in Feldspar, but would probably still sell you to their Dark Lord for one corn chip; fucking lawyers, they know exactly how far they can push; surprisingly decent parents???

Elk and Howl: Feral, Howl will lose all domestication at the drop of a hat and Elk never had any to begin with; fiercely protective of one another; co-dependency issues due to a harsh life in the wilderness, but they’re working on it; gender? they hardly know ‘er

Xerxes and Lamium: Extreme slow-burn because Xerxes is a wuss; lots of quiet nights of reading and discussing topics that would fly over most dragons’ heads; deep bond forged through shared “otherness”, simply more comfortable together than among “normal” dragons

Hyde and Juniper: Science Husbands; their love is as explosive as their machinery; rushed into their relationship, but only because they both knew they were well-suited to one another in the way only an engineer can; you know how a mechanism’s parts all fit together in extremely specific ways? that’s their relationship and they saw that shit coming from a mile off

Risen and June: Had an awkward beginning, but now everyone wishes they could have the kind of chill relationship these two have; have known each other for years, so are completely comfortable with one another; very touchy-feely, express a lot of their love through physical contact; beach dates every night

Boggart and Vigrid: We’ve reached the Old Married Couple Final Bosses; swamp gays and their swamp ways; always teetering on the edge of tragic, but I refuse to push them over; unrecognized comedy geniuses

BONUS ROUND!

Strasky and Akers: Sexual tension in the workplace, which just so happens to be 153m below sea level; so many sly glances from across crowded rooms; Akers is a bully and Strasky lets him get away with it because he’s kind of into it; “WE CANNOT MAKE OUT IN COMMS, MR. AKERS”

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jamiebluewind · 5 years ago

Text

Character Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.9!

***

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: trauma, abuse, mental abuse, neglect, starvation, manipulation, memory loss mention, dark themes, isolation, imprisonment, fantasy racism, vomit mention (please let me know if I missed any)

All pronounciations typed out have a rolled R.

***

Facts

The party is currently at 44,100 exp. each. Next level is at 48,000 (which will probably take 3 more big battles, 2 if Brennan is super generous with RP awards).

Abernant family had all their land and wealth reclaimed by The Court of Stars for their treachery and failure to prevent a war with Solace. Elianwyn committed treason and betrayal as well.

To save Adaine, the group decided to break up into 3 teams: Pylon 1 (Ragh, Tracker, Cathilda, and Sandra Lynn), Pylon 2 (Gorgug, Fabian, and Riz), and Recovery (Ayda, Fig, and Kristen). Team 1 and 2 would simultaneously take out the pylons. Then, the recovery team would go in (invisible and/or disguised) and gets Adaine and Aelwyn. They would all meet back at Van where they would most likely use Ayda's teleport to leave Fallinel (or regroup to plan their next move).

***

New Characters

Tell-ah-mine Low-men-el-da

Fabian's grandpapa

Tall elf with regal green robes, a silver circlet, long platinum white blond hair with a widows peak, and shimmering blue eyes

Crinkle in the corners of his eyes shows his age in sort of an Elrond way. He look of a dude in his late 40s/early 50s who took excellent care of his body and kept it tight

Moves with supernatural grace

Can turn into silver sand and float away

Has no concept of what time means

Obsessed with the fact that his grandson will die before him (Your human blood has brought mortality to this family. You will one day die.)

Offers to send word to an elf who is a fabled eye smith who lives on the high mountains at the heart of Fallinel that can craft a working eye (from songs, whispers, beams of moonlight, jeweled edges of the blue of the sea, and shimmering poems pulled from the ether itself) for Fabian, but has no clue how long it will take (a moment, a year, or a hundred years).

Can't pronounce words in common very well, especially words he's never heard before (which delights Fabian and pisses off Gorgug)

Calls Fabian Aramais Seacaster fa-bee-ahn ah-rye-ah-my-ess Seacaster (which might actually be the proper pronouncations of his name in that region as "Seacaster" was said correctly and that's how all the other elves say his name as well) and calls Hallariel ha-lair-ee-el

Weeps without moving his face, but also sometimes makes a soft eeehhhh sound when he cries (at one point he cried over a drop of water)

Gifted stewardship of Khy-low Meh-new-rah 3000 years ago after he crafted The Sword of the North Star (he was the smith of fung-dran-ghoor) for the ancient king of Fallinel Th-wrist-win Eversong.

"Without the Elven Oracle, we are lost."

Saw the Abernants as power hungry and cruel and can't understand why they would leave Fallinel. He found Anguin in particular to be a crass and small man with no nobility, only a thirst for power.

Thinks Riz has a harsh energy, is "a little dick", and calls him "a strange green mouse thing"

Got physically ill when a gun was explained to him, calling it gross and some dwarven kind of thing before vomiting which he turns into a flock of white crows

Vhan-lair-ee-el

Fabian's aunt

Tried to heal Fabian's pneumonia with elvan singing

Said "I have failed" when her singing doesn't work before she fades into starlight and vanishes

Hal-door-in and [unnamed youth]

Elven teens in white linen shorts arguing because [unnamed] believes Hal-door-in took his lute.

Calmed by a distant song which stopped their fight.

Faf-threth-riel

Lithe elven youth (around 17 or 18 years old) with a blond mop of hair covering one eye

Bakes elven whey bread

Lived a sheltered life

Ragh was the first half-orc he met

Mostly into Ragh due to Ragh being half orc, excessively talking about his green skin (like the boughs of a tree leafy, my leafy man), being big and beefy (your legs are like the mighty trunks of trees), was really into rage (like when Ragh punched a seat cushion) to the point of it making Ragh uncomfortable

Sang in bed

Treth-thren-ren

Elven youth who does morning dance yoga

Tried to get Fabian to eat a grape

Oak Warriors

Elemental plant based automaton soldiers made of pure magic

Look like 8 foot tall green men with leaves coming from their faces

***

Changes to Established Characters

Aelwyn

Matted long blond hair

Dry skin, chapped colorless lips, and thick bags under her eyes

Severely dehydrated and trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to trance for nearly a year)

5 points of exhaustion. Only magic is keeping her from going to the 6th level and dying.

Her "room" is a large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble. Ambiant light glows from the white stone.

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Crawling on hands and knees while trapped, shaking with the effort

Doesn't give Adaine up to Kear

Can still remember how to cast the message cantrip

Feels strange and addled (unable to think clearly; confused), can't remember what's real or imagined anymore, doesn't clearly remember what happened in her past (including what she did to get imprisoned), and forgets what she and Adaine have already talked about (causing a lot of reputation).

Thinks her parents "tried their best they could" and that "they expected quite a lot of us, but isn't that what- doesn't that... didn't that make us great?" (possibly due to something her father said or did since her imprisonment as it echoes a few things he's said)

Gilear

Looks scruffy (from not shaving), dirty, and has pit stains

Somehow didn't mess up being diplomatic with Fabian's grandpapa

Unbuttons the top button on his shirt when he "lets loose"

To Fig about Sandra Lynn and Garthy: Are you aware of such... hanky panky?

Learning of Sandra Lynn's infidelity with Garthy "Honestly? Perhaps this is... fucked up. It makes me feel... like there wasn't something uniquely wrong with me. Maybe a tiny little w for Gilear."

Spent the night walking through the forest with Hallariel's father, reciting poetry (badly)

To Fabian after Hallariel's father threw up "You're low and he's low. It's Gilear's day baby! It's Gilear's day."

Tried to ask Hallariel's father for her hand, but even though Fig gave him bardic inspiration and Riz helped by covering Fabian's mouth, he failed... so much. ("Lord Tell-ah-mine of Khy-low Meh-new-rah I like you am-" *makes himself throw up* "We get it. We both get it. We... We're the throw up boys." *passes out*)

Ayda

Hid in the van the entire visit

Might have rejection sensitive dysphoria (which is common in those with autism or ADHD)

Did a sending spell to Zelda for Gorgug for 150 gold (after reminding him that she very much does not like anyone in her debt or visa versa)

Offered to exact vengeance on Zelda for Gorgug

Is powerful enough to know teleport and learn plane shift (so level 13 or higher)

Stated that Adaine is her best friend and decides that since Fig is also Adaine's best friend, by the transitive property she is best friends with Fig as well (and Fig agreed). Learning this, she says "Fantastic. I grow richer by the day. I'm emotional." before starting to cry fire "I'm emotional. I'm gonna fly away." She then flew away, returning after she had calmed down.

Ragh

Ate grapes and started burping musical notes after he left Khy-low Meh-new-rah.

Lost his virginity to Faf-threth-riel who then got creepy and kinda racist, making Ragh very uncomfortable (and want to get out of there asap)

Fabian

Lost both points of exhaustion thanks to the 8000 thread count elven sheets (did they get to keep the sheets or at least one sheet for help with exhaustion?)

Felt really good when he tried out dance yoga, even wondering if he should be some kind of yoga dancer instead of a fighter (how about a whirling dervish dancer like Cathilda?)

The grapes he put in his pocket (after refusing to eat them) turned into song

Indifferent towards saving Aelwyn and doesn't want to be on the retrieval team

When he started feeling anxious about the Aelwyn stuff, Riz told him to lose himself in dancing again to feel free (Riz: You are the only one that I wanna see dancing right now.) It made him feel much better.

***

Other Characters

Adaine

Taken by Court of Stars

Her jacket and spellbook were taken

Trapped in an orb which is soft and doesn't hurt her, but the constant movement of its slow turning doesn't allow her to be still or trance

The walls of her room glow with runes and there are many perminant magical effects, making her captors capable of some crazy things (like prepared directional counter spells), but the setup wouldn't counter cantrips

Escaped the orb with dispel magic (dc 15) which makes a couple counter spells go off and an alarm sound

Hid in Aelwyn's room. The sister's spoke before she was recaptured and placed back in her orb. Adaine told Aelwyn that she was going to get her out

Discovered that her room was close enough to Aelwyn to talk to her via the message cantrip

Repeatedly cast Ray of Frost to turn her orb into a slip and slide to stay entertained

Instead of speaking to her father in elvish, she responded in common. Also cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on him.

Anguin and Kear said she would be executed for treason for staying in Solace and refusing to cooperate. She demanded a lawyer and then the Ambassador to Solace, citing her age and being a student at Augefort Adventuring Academy which summoned a recorded hologram of Arthur Augefort.

Arthur Augefort

Has a recorded hologram that is activated when a student claims the need of his diplomatic help in foreign affairs.

It threatens the listeners with graphic and terrifying violence and doom, giving them the options of either rectify the actions that summoned him (Yes) or refuse and welcome the aforementioned punishment for their actions (No).

Gorgug

Fabian's grandfather called him Jhor-judge

Finally got a message to Zelda via Ayda using her sending spell (Zelda. Safe in Fallinel. Gonna finish cell tower soon. Sorry about everything, but hope your break is going well in spite of this. Miss you.) and got a reply the next morning a little while after waking up (Sorry. Was at a party. You don't have to build a cell tower. That's crazy. It's all whatever Gorgug. I don't blame you.)

Didn't sleep well, but still got the benefit of a full night's sleep due to elven sheets.

Kristen

Got in a fight with Tracker and then got 3 nat 1s on persuasion checks when she tried to make up with her.

Slept in Adaine's room

Doesn't know how to make a cell tower

Took one of the 40 to 50 foot long diaphanous silk scarves with her

Gave (inspiring?) speech ending with "Friendship is thinker than water and we need water to live." which gave everyone 11 temp hit points

Accidentally called Pok a "smiling elf" and then blew it off as being due to her being human

Can now see Shadow Cat in the picture (along with Tracker, Sandra Lynn, Garthy, Riz, and Sklonda and possibly the dead cambian, Pok, Jace, and Adaine's mom) and reacted by saying "Was I spooning the cat all night in the milk!?"

Sandra Lynn

Dropped out senior year and got her diploma after the fact to join an adventuring party

Joined as a replacement member for an existing adventuring party that was already active in the world and included an older much more powerful married couple.

Fresh out of high school, fell in love with one person from the couple (nonbinary or gender intentionally hidden) who "did not treat her very kindly"

When it all came out, she was ejected from the adventuring party, her romantic partner took great pains to smear her name (so no one would accept her), no other party would take her as a replacement, and she was forced to become a Celesian Ranger

Gilear knows who the couple were, but doesn't want to tell Fig (could she know the people involved?)

Key-heir/Khear

Child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair, a white gown, and a large staff.

When confronted by Arthur Augefort's hologram, she chose to not heed his warnings.

***

More from 2.9!

***

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #d20 character descriptions #d20 descriptions #fantasy high live #descriptions #tw dark themes #tw imprisonment #tw isolation #tw abuse #tw neglect #tw mental abuse #tw manipulation #tw starvation #tw fantasy racism #tw vomit mention #fantasy high spoilers

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reddeadmort · 6 years ago

Note

Hey, love your writing, keep up the good work! I was just wondering, and it's perfectly a-okay to say no, but would you consider posting a version of the fic where reader is kidnapped in place of Jack n'rescued by John & Arthur where you edit out the choking part? I loved the setting, drama, the brave n'resourceful protag, the inclusion of Jack(!!) n' I want to read the smut too but I have a strong phobia of not being able to breathe so I just can't deal w/anything that has to do w/choking :/

So I was perfectly happy to do this, especially for the lovely @nordic-breeze :) If any of you have already read the previous version, you’ll probably want to skip this one, it is almost exactly the same except with choking/breathing triggers removed.

If anyone else has a request like this, please feel free to send it; I may not publish all alternative versions, but it really isn’t much effort for me to edit an existing text, and I can always send you a google doc link or something :)

If you send requests in, please feel free to be specific with details like this; I don’t want a whole plot planned out in a request, but I am more than happy to include specific details or actively avoid certain triggers

Arthur x f! reader | “Safe places and words” - Alternative version | AO3

Guidance:

Violence, threats of sexual assault, implied minor sexual assault (groping), almost major sexual assault. Smut, but unrelated to/separate from mentions of assault. Smut includes blowjob, reader being pinned down by wrists (initiated by reader) and gentle biting. NSFW/NSFT

Words: 4k

“That’s great Jack, well done!” You patted Jack on the back as he carefully reeled in the small fish. “See I knew you’d manage it! Uncle Arthur’s been giving you some fishing tips hasn’t he.” Jack jumped up and down excitedly as you carefully unhooked the fish from the line to show to him. “Here, hold still, lift it up, I’ll take a picture for your parents before we throw it back.” You took the picture as quickly as you could – you were pretty sure it would be blurry, thanks to Jack being incapable of holding in his energy.

“Thanks Auntie Y/N, maybe this isn’t so boring!” Jack said as he threw the little fish back in the river. You were both watching it swim away when you heard a voice behind you.

“Well ain’t this…. Sweet”. You turned sharply to look at the three new arrivals, instinctively moving jack behind you, one hand resting on your revolver. Shit. O’Driscolls. What the hell are they doing this close to camp?

“Look, fellas, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just relaxing with the kid.” You wanted to back away further, but you were already at the edge of the water. Two of the men were moving slowly towards you, one on each side, blocking any escape; you were fast with your revolver, but not fast enough to take down all three, and you couldn’t risk anything happening to Jack.

“We can see that girly” the leader sneered, standing in front of you. “Tell you what, why don’t we help out? We can teach the lad a thing or two….” As he said this, the leader nodded to the man to your left, and before you could do anything he grabbed at Jack. You launched yourself at him, only to be grabbed from behind by the other man. He pulled your arms behind your back as you kicked and screamed, hoping desperately someone might hear. Jack had started crying; the noise of his sobs made your adrenaline surge even further.

“You really don’t want to do this, his dad and the others will come after you.” You tried to slow your breathing, bring your heart rate under control. The only way you were getting out of this was with words.

“Oh, we know girl, we know. That’s exactly why we’re doing this.” The leader smirked at you as your heart sank. “You’re going to go back to your little camp and tell Marston that we’ve got his precious little boy. Then you’re going to tell him to come to us, alone, tomorrow at noon. We’ll send a message tomorrow with a location, maybe with a bit of….motivation attached. If he doesn’t come, or if he doesn’t come alone, we’ll start using bits of little Jack here for fish food.”

“You bastards! They’ll kill you all!” you screamed at the man, unable to control your rage.

“No, missy, they won’t. Because if they try, Jack’s mother will be burying him as well as his father. Well, burying whatever is left of him anyway.” Jack was still sobbing, he didn’t really understand what was going on, but he knew from your reaction that you were in trouble. “Come on lads, let’s get going. Give her a clout, best if she’s out for a while.” The man behind you released one of your arms, drawing his pistol and raising the butt above your head, ready to strike.

“WAIT!” you yelled, breaking free and rushing forwards. Your mind was racing, you had to get Jack out of this situation.

“Take me. Take me instead, let Jack go back to camp.” The men laughed at this, you were going to have to try harder. “I’ll be quieter than him. I won’t cause trouble.” The man holding Jack was starting to walk away, and you could hear the man behind you moving closer again. Think, think! “I…..you….. you could have some fun with me.” The words almost made you puke, the thought of these men touching you, but you’d do anything to save Jack.

That got their attention. The leader stepped closer to you, still grinning a horrible, evil, gappy grin. “Nah, missy, as tempting as that sounds, you ain’t as valuable. Dutch ain’t going to send one of his main men out looking for one of you camp bitches.”

“I ain’t just one of the girls.” You were going to regret giving this information away, you knew it, but you had to convince them to make the trade.

“Well then missy, who are you exactly?” The man leered at you, moving even closer, so you could feel his breath on your face.

“Y/N. Y/N Morgan.” That name had the desired effect, and the leader gave a low whistle.

“Arthur dead would hurt Dutch more” the man holding Jack grunted at him.

“It sure would, Peter, it sure would…..” Before you could do anything, the man in front of you had grabbed you by the chin.

“Right, girly, I think we’ll take you up on your offer. And I mean all of your offer” the man’s face was almost touching yours now, and his breath made you almost gag. “You’ll only scream when we want you to. And believe me, you’re going to need to scream. You ain’t getting out of this. We’ll make sure Mr Morgan sees us slit your delicate little neck, and we’ll make him watch as you slowly die.”

Your heart was racing, but you kept your face perfectly still; you didn’t want to give them the pleasure of seeing the fear you were experiencing.

“I’ll be quiet” you said, through gritted teeth. “Just let me put Jack on my horse and send him off, it’s too far for him to walk.”

“Fine. Be quick. And only because we need him to get back to camp to tell Mr Morgan where you are.” He released you and practically threw you at Jack. Shaking, you walked over and took a still sobbing Jack from the other man. You carefully placed him on your horse, and quickly started scribbling a note.

“Girl, what the hell do you think you’re doing” the man snatched at the paper, but you pulled it away from him.

“I’m writing down the instructions, you bastard. He’s only young, even if he does remember them he’ll be too upset to say anything” you snarled back at the man. He sneered at you, before calling out to his men.

“You two, check the note.”

“Hey, you know I can’t read.”

“Me neither.”

“Goddammit” the leader muttered. You guessed that neither could he. “Just hurry up girl, before I decide to send the boys lifeless body back on the damn horse” he snapped at you before walking over to his own. You quickly finished the note and handed it to Jack.

“Right Jack, I know you’re upset, but I need you to be a brave boy for me, okay? My horse should take you directly back to camp, don’t worry. You hold on as tight as you can, and when you get to camp you give this note to Uncle Arthur, okay?” Jack swallowed and nodded, tears still dripping down his face. “I love you Jack, remember that.” With those last words, you slapped your horse on the rear, sending it trotting off back up the path.

With your back to the O’Driscolls, you quickly and silently slipped a knife from the sheath strapped to your thigh and sliced the blade across the palm of your hand. You winced slightly, staying as still as possible, hoping they hadn’t noticed. Keeping your fist clenched, you turned just as they grabbed you, pulling off your weapons and knocking the knife out of your other hand.

“Nice try missy. Now, you’re riding with me. I want a little…..preview of the fun we’re going to have tonight.”

You said nothing, and let the man bundle you onto his horse, sitting behind you. One hand on the reins, the other gripping you tightly – and not by the waist – you set off. You held your cut hand out as far as you could, under the pretence of needing balance, and squeezed, feeling the blood run over your fingers. You just hoped you could keep it bleeding for as long as possible.

——

John was the first to see Jack and your horse as they gently trotted back into camp. At first, he wasn’t too concerned, expecting to see you right behind; but as they got closer, he realised you weren’t there.

“Jack, what’s happened? Where’s Y/N?” Jack immediately burst into tears, and John quickly hoisted him off the horse and hugged him tight.

“There….was…..some…..men” Jack managed to get the words out between sobs. “I have a….” Jack held the crumpled note up to his father; it was slightly damp from his tears.

“ARTHUR!” John yelled, opening the note.

“John, what the hell do you want” Arthur grumbled as he walked over.

“O’Driscolls have got Y/N” John said, his voice cracking slightly, as he handed the note to Arthur. Arthur’s face paled as he read your hastily written instructions. “Any idea what those last two words are?” John asked before handing Jack to Abigail, who had been attracted by his shout.

Arthur looked at the two words at the end of the note. ‘Strawberry Doe’. You hadn’t dared write more than that. But Arthur didn’t need anymore to understand what you’d done.

“John, get your guns. We’ve got some killin’ to do.” Arthur growled.

“But Arthur, we don’t know where they’ve gone.” It wasn’t really a protest - John was already prepping the saddle on his horse - more a panicked comment.

“She’s left us a trail. We’ll track ‘em down like the animals they are.” John didn’t think he’d ever seen Arthur’s eyes like this. They were cold, emotionless, like he’d shut down.

As the two men rode out of camp, pounding towards the fishing spot, Arthur finally felt something other than rage start to sweep over him. It was fear. The fear of losing you, the fear of not being able to protect you…….

—–

It was early evening when you finally stopped at an abandoned old hut. Stuck in front of this lecherous, disgusting creature of a man, you had basically frozen, letting your mind disassociate. The ride was horrible, uncomfortable, but nothing more than you’d experienced in many saloons; at least those drunk bastards got their comeuppance when they groped you.

You were pulled roughly off the horse, your hands tied behind your back, and led into the dark basement. You knew what was coming, you just prayed that you could endure it for as long as it took Arthur to find you.

To your surprise, the leader shoved you to the floor before turning to leave.

“Me and the boys are going to eat before our fun starts, sweetheart” he leered at you. “Need to make sure we’ve got plenty of… energy.” He paused, licking his lips, before shutting the doors to the basement behind him, leaving you in total darkness.

Finally alone, you let a little sob escape from your throat. All you could think about was Arthur. Would you ever see him again? Would he even be able to look at you if he did?

And so you sat, in the cold, in the darkness, waiting.

——

Arthur and John rode in silence, occasionally stopping to search for the next part of your trail. There was nothing to say; there was no plan, only anger and fear. These men were going to die, and not well.

“Arthur…. I can’t see anythin’.” It was early evening and the light was fading fast.

“John, just keep lookin’!” Arthur snapped. “There has to be somethin’. Has to be……”

John didn’t retort, he knew it wasn’t him Arthur was angry at. He looked around, and spotted something in the distance.

“Arthur! Smoke. Looks like it’s comin’ from a cabin. Might just be normal folks though.”

“It’s our best hope. Come on.”

——

You had no idea how long you’d been down there in the dark. You’d done your best to keep calm, concentrating on your breathing. Stumbling around in the dark, unable to use your hands, you’d found a chair and a table; you’d crawled under the table and sat in the corner, back to the walls. It made you feel a bit safer; you tried to pretend that it was Arthur’s chest you were leaning against, not this damp, slimy, old stone.

Eventually, you heard the creak of the basement door hatches, and a figure made its way down with a lantern. Very briefly, you let yourself pray it was Arthur; but no, he was too short, too fat. You swore at yourself for even thinking it; of course it wasn’t Arthur, you’d heard no commotion, no gunshots. You didn’t even know if he was coming. Had Jack made it back? Had your horse actually gone back to camp, had Jack managed to cling on? Had Arthur understood your message?

Your slightly panicked thoughts were interrupted by the man grabbing you by the ankle, pulling you out from under the table, causing the back of your head to slam into the floor.

“It’s playtime girly! Now you better make some noise for me you little whore.” He lifted you up roughly by the front of your shirt then grabbed you hard by the chin. He moved his face next to yours and slowly, disgustingly, licked your cheek. “Just pretend I’m your big, bad outlaw. But don’t get too excited, me and the boys will be taking turns all throughout the night. And we don’t want you passing out now… it’s no fun if you aren’t awake to feel it.”

You wanted to fight back, to do something, anything but you couldn’t. You were completely frozen.

“Not even going to beg me? Well you’re a nasty girl ain’t ya.” With that, he turned you around and slammed your face and chest into the table, bending you over. Using your bound wrists to keep you pushed down, he pulled at your trousers with one hand, pulling them down to your knees. You heard him fumbling with his belt buckle, and you could have sworn that you were suddenly looking down on the scene from above; you could see yourself, bent over, face completely emotionless, and him, pulling at his trousers, pushing them down.

Suddenly, a familiar crack of a gunshot sounded above you, followed quickly by a series of others. You could hear yelling and screaming mixed in with the gunfire. The man released you, scrabbling over to the chair where he’d put his gun belt, reaching it as the basement doors flew open. He’d just pulled his gun out of the holster when a shot rang out, shattering his hand and sending the gun flying. Deafened slightly by the noise, you tried to stand up, struggling, and turned just enough to see the familiar shape of Arthur smash his revolver across the man’s face, sending what few teeth he had left flying. You’d never seen him hit anyone that hard before; sometimes, his strength was almost scary.

Arthur’s heart almost exploded with pain when he looked at you, trousers roughly pulled down, struggling to stand up. He quickly moved to you, leaving the unconscious man behind him. One brief flick of his knife and you were free; the first thing you did was grapple with your trousers, trying to pull them up. You never wanted Arthur to see you like this, not with another man, willingly or not. There were tears in the corner of his eyes as he grabbed you by the face, scanning yours for any injury.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner Y/N, so sorry” he said, stumbling over his words slightly.

Finally, with him stood in front of you, your adrenaline started to fade and a wave of relief washed over you. You threw your arms around him, breathing in his familiar, musky smell. You tried to say something, but all you could do was cry. In between sobs, you managed to explain that Arthur had arrived just in time. He held you tight, his arms and warmth seeming to form a protective bubble around you. After a few moments, he picked you up and took you up the stairs to a waiting John.

As soon as you saw John, your first thought went to his little boy. “Jack…. Is Jack okay? They were going to take him, John, I’m so sorry…..” As you spoke, Arthur gently let you down, standing you upright. John pulled you in for a hug, holding your face to his chest.

“He’s fine Y/N, he’s fine. Thanks to you. I’ll never forget this, you hear? Never.”

“John, you wait with her and the horses. I’ve got somethin’ to finish.” Before you could say anything, Arthur had grabbed some rope and walked away back into the basement. You thought about stopping him, but it only took a moment for you to decide the man deserved whatever was about to happen. John led you and the horses a little way off, but you could still see Arthur drag the man out by his hair, sitting him against a tree and tying him to it. You heard the man’s bloodcurdling screams as Arthur took his manhood from him, then begging as Arthur chucked what looked like bait on his bloodied lap.

Arthur walked back to you and John, wiping his blood-stained knife with a cloth.

“You finished?” John asked. He’d not seen Arthur do anything like this before; beat a man, yes, threaten, of course, even kill; but this….. this was a whole other level of rage.

“I’ve done what I needed. I’ve left the wolves to do the rest.” Arthur muttered as he climbed onto the saddle behind you.

The ride back was silent; no-one knew what to say. Arthur held you tightly to him by the waist, clinging to you as if for dear life. Occasionally he gently kissed you on the neck, but only after asking you if he could. He’d never asked before; you knew he was just trying to be kind, make sure you were okay, but you hated it. You just wanted things to be exactly like they were before; you were scared he’d never look at you in the same way again.

When you arrived back at the camp, everyone came to fuss over you. You entertained them for as long as you could before pulling Arthur away to your shared tent.

Arthur was surprised when you grabbed at his face as soon as he’d pulled the flaps down. You kissed him hard, hungrily, biting at his lips. He kissed you back, but more hesitantly, causing you to pull away.

“Arthur……”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I just…..I’ll go, you’ll want some time alone.”

“Arthur Morgan, you have never tried to tell me what I do and don’t want. Do not start now.” You didn’t give him time to reply before once again pulling him back in for a kiss. This time, he didn’t resist, and gently brought his hands up to rest on your shoulders.

You let your hands drop from his face as you slowly undid his shirt buttons. As your hands moved back up his chest, you let them brush lightly over his nipples, making him moan, before pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Once again, you moved you hands over his chest, this time down to his belt. He grunted slightly as you pulled at it, swiftly undoing it and the top button as his hips pushed forwards. You slowly slipped your thumbs under the waistband and gently pulled his trousers down, levering them forwards over his erection.

You knelt as you guided his trousers to the ground, and Arthur’s hands moved to the back of your head. He let out a little grunt as you licked the head of his cock, before you took him in your mouth in one swift movement. He groaned and gripped your hair as you slid him in and out of your mouth, soaking him. You moved your hand up to his on the back of your head, wrapped it around his fist, and used it to pull your own hair. Arthur understood the signal, and pushed his hips forwards, driving himself deep into your mouth, making you gag. He pulled out slightly, letting you recover, making sure you could breathe comfortably, before using his firm grip on your hair to dictate your speed. Soon, the movement of his hips became slightly erratic, and panting, he pulled away from you. This was just the prequel, he wasn’t about to ruin the main event.

You stood up, undoing your trousers as Arthur made short work of your shirt. You lay down on the bed as Arthur pulled your trousers off, pausing momentarily to stare at you, completely naked before him. You shouldn’t have worried; his gaze was just as it always was, hungry, desperate to touch you, mind blank save for the thought of you.

Arthur was quickly on top of you, one hand tucked under your shoulder, the other moving between your legs. You moaned softly as he gently rubbed you, spreading your wetness up and over your clit. As he massaged it with his thumb, moving in steady circles, he slipped a couple of fingers inside you, testing you. No matter how much he wanted you, how much he needed you, he always made sure you were ready. And you were.

He shifted forwards, replacing his thumb with the tip of his cock, rubbing against you. He kissed you as he pushed in, all the way, making you gasp and shudder. He bit your neck as moved back a fraction, before pushing deep again. He enjoyed this bit the most; every time felt like the first time you’d ever taken him, your reaction always the same. He gently started to move his hips backwards and forwards, kissing you, building up a rhythm as his hand moved to massage your breast.

“Pin me down, Arthur” you whispered into his ear. He paused, looking into your eyes, slight concern showing on his face.

“You sure darlin’?” You nodded and bit your lip, resting both wrists together on the bed above your head.

“Arthur please…. I want to feel normal. I want to feel loved…. I want to feel safe.” Arthur smiled, and with one large hand pinned your wrists down.

To anyone else, safe would have seemed like an odd choice of word to use, with a large man lying on top of you, effortlessly pinning you down. But it was true; this made you feel safe. Arthur would never hurt you, was always guided by you; you were always in control, even if it didn’t look that way.

Arthur delicately kissed your lips before thrusting hard into you. His grip on your wrists tightened, just enough to keep you pinned down, not enough to hurt. If he put too much pressure on you just tapped the back of his hand with your fingers; he always responded immediately. Every time he pounded into you, he’d stop briefly when he was fully enveloped, grinding himself into your clit, just like you’d shown him. It wasn’t long before you were both on the brink. You came first, gripping his hand, gasping his name. As soon as you had, he removed his hand from your wrists and you lifted yourself up, biting his nipple; this took him over the edge, and he swore as he pushed into you hard, almost uncomfortably deep. He collapsed onto your chest, and you both stayed there for a moment, not moving, just listening to the other’s breathing.

“Thankyou Arthur. I needed that. It might not make much sense but….I….needed to regain some control.”

“Darlin’ that don’t surprise me. Though, honestly, you don’t ever make much sense to me.” He grinned, before sitting up, releasing you. “Now, we best get some rest. I think Jack wants to spend tomorrow with his favourite Aunt.”

“He’s a sweetheart, he really is. I might stay in the camp this time though” you chuckled, sitting up and resting your head on Arthur’s shoulder. He kissed you softly on the top of the head, stroking your lower back.

“You do whatever you want darlin’. I’ll always be here.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan nsft #nsft #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #my work #smut #rdr2 smut #request

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years ago

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Dark Phoenix

We owe a lot to the X-Men. Lest we forget the halcyon days of Y2K, superhero movies weren’t always a guaranteed blockbuster hit or taking up real estate at the multiplex for 80% of weeks in a given year. But some terrible CGI, brooding Canadian sideburns, and a terrible line about a toad and its relationship to lightning later and Marvel comics properties are suddenly in the conversation as a sure bet at the box office. And now it’s 2019 and the X-Men have had some...let’s say ups and downs. With Dark Phoenix, we’re allegedly saying goodbye to this crop of actors playing these superheroes. So was this a bittersweet farewell or a “don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya” type situation? Well...

Somewhere in the middle, like when you see your uncle who used to give you piggyback rides and pull quarters from behind your ear when you were a kid but now you only see him at Thanksgiving and you only ever talk to him about 1) the weather 2) whether you’re still at the same job (you are) or 3) how good Aunt Judy’s pie was this year and he gets up to leave and you’re like “Oh you’re leaving? Well it was good to see you, drive safe!” and you share an awkward side-hug.

Do you need a synopsis? It’s an X-Men movie. Mutants are getting up to mutant-y shit. Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) is all like “we can help the humans and they’ll like us if we save them from space disasters!” and Erik Lehnsherr is all like “mutants are better than humans and we should conquer them but since I’ve tried that a couple times and got caught I’m just gonna build a little island mutant utopia” and honestly both of them are kind of side characters in their own franchise which is a bummer because I think we can all agree that the Charles/Erik dichotomy is the beating heart of why people connect with this mythology. The main plot is about Jean Grey (Sophie Turner) getting dosed with a bunch of space energy that she can’t really control and shit happens and people get hurt and she’s like I like hurting people but also she doesn’t. Jessica Chastain is wasted as a woman with very ghost-like features who’s trying to convince Jean to use her powers for EEEVILLLL. You probably heard that this movie was terrible. It’s not. But it’s not good either. It just...is. Frankly, I feel very zen about the whole thing.

Many thoughts:

During the first opening narration, Sleepy Gay leaned over and said, “I already hate this.” And uh, that mood was about right for the narration throughout. Unless you’re doing a true film noir, you have to have a DAMN good reason besides laziness to have voiceover do this much heavy lifting.

#onlyninetieskidsremember the 1992 space shuttle because we don’t care about funding NASA anymore!

I know the production of this film was fraught, and there were some massive reshoots, which obviously means a quick and messy editing session. But that slapdash feel permeates the movie into even the most mundane scenes - an early example is Hank (Nicholas Hoult) turning into Beast at the end of a conversation to reply, “Yeah.” Was...was that necessary? Is that how he ends all his conversations?

And the emotional beats feel really weird. Like when Jean gets back on the ship from space, the vibe feels completely wrong for the scene we just witnessed.

I will say, it’s a thing of beauty to see just how 10000% done Jennifer Lawrence is while she languishes in this movie with nothing to do but die (listen they spoiled that shit in the trailers, don’t @ me). Her snappy line, “The women are the only ones who do anything around here, maybe you should change the name to the X-Women” is delivered with such exasperated can-you-believe-we’re-still-doing-this spice, it’s just *chef kiss* gorgeous.

In spite of all the crying she does in this film, Sophie Turner’s eye makeup is FLAWLESS. I want to know what eyeliner she uses.

I’m feeling very uncomfortable with the fact that when I was a kid, I agreed with Charles on his whole “it’s our duty to protect the humans and show them we’re good” manifesto but now........idk, maybe it’s because Nazis are like, a big thing again, but I’m kinda with Magneto here? Maybe it’s the existential nightmare that’s swallowing us all but uh I just can’t really hang with respectability politics any more? This is like that moment in The Little Mermaid when Ariel says, “I’m 16 years old! I’m not a child anymore!” and you know where you’re at in life by whether you say, “Yeah, tell him Ariel!” or “Back those fins the fuck up and go to your room, young lady!”

Scott (Tye Sheridan) is just the most boring character and he has NO chemistry with Jean whatsoever.

Question - if you have sex in the X-Men house, does Charles know? I’ll bet he does. What a perv.

In spite of his terrible conversation enders, I will say Nicholas Hoult is looking damn fine these days. DAMN fine. However - I’m a fan of his work overall, I really am, but he must have been having an off week when he filmed his angry grief confrontation with James McAvoy (a frankly incredible actor who elevates every single thing he’s in so...let that sink in). Going from quiet to loUD VERY QUICKLY over and over again is not the same as portraying grief, my dude.

I don’t understand why you would get an actress as magnetic and arresting as Jessica Chastain and then make her act like the love child of a ghost-robot one night stand. Her only sparks of something interesting are when she’s doing the big energy transfer with Sophie Turner, because frankly, that read as very homoerotic to me so like...into it.

Wait but did they hurt that dog. There’s no resolution about the dog and that is VERY upsetting.

How are we this far in the franchise and no one has told anyone involved in production “So uh. The floating thing the mutants do when they enter or exit a room in a big scene. Are you guys like...married to that? Have you thought about maybe not having floating be such a big part of the final emotional confrontation between Jean and everyone she’s ever loved trying to destroy her?” Because if there’s one thing I know of that creates and amplifies dramatic tension, it’s floating.

Is Michael Fassbender the most handsome man alive in these movies? It’s possible. At one point he’s in a collar and that really felt like someone involved in that script punch up was giving the fans anything at that point to keep them engaged, but I’m not complaining about it.

How many fights have these X-Men been in? Isn’t the first day of X-Men school devoted to “Don’t make significant eye contact during a fight!”

Did I Cry? I probably should have, but the most I got was a slight tearing up.

Overall, this is a mess. It’s kind of a fun mess if you already like the characters, and there’s certainly some eye candy for those interested in all genders. If you like the other films, give this one a gander just for completionist reasons and try to remember the good old days when X-Men actually meant something.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #dark phoenix #dark phoenix review #x men #x men dark phoenix #sophie turner #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #jennifer lawrence #jessica chastain #tye sheridan #nicholas hoult #movie reviews #film reviews

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wilhelmjfink · 6 years ago

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“It’s Them” (1/3)

ETA: SOME PPL ACTUALLY WANTED A SECOND PART SO I CHANGED IT FROM ONESHOT #6 (WHICH ACTUALLY IT WAS #5 APPARENTLY) TO A NEW TITLE AND THE 2ND PART WILL BE OUT SOOOOOON :-) -3/8/19

time to break the monotony up w/ a oneshot I pounded out kinda drunk & finished late so it’s getting posted w/o being edited or even remotely glanced over tonight..... this one is Negan x reader!!! holy shit right??!?! i know!!! i had to switch things up so. enjoy~

PS: @crossbowking i rly hope ur not mad at me for posting this i love u :,(

Prompt: “It’s them.”

You were growing increasingly more fed up with being out in the damp cold air as dusk settled onto the forest around you. You had your AR15 slung over your back carelessly so that your hands could remain tucked into the front pockets of the black jacket you were wearing, fingers frozen despite the cotton gloves you wore.

Negan’s rules had been simple: you knew where these people were coming and going, and it was your job to interfere, halting them in their tracks. A surprise visit to the group of strangers that had broken into your eastern compound and shot every single one of your comrades as they slept.

The thought made your blood boil and it coursed through your veins, offering slight relief from the brisk night air. You had friends at that compound — there were men and women there that you were sure had never even held a gun in their hands. Innocent people being slaughtered was nothing new in the world you lived in now, but that didn’t mean it didn’t anger you and that there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Vengeance was one thing that you did have, and you’d be damned if you’d let anyone take it away from you.

So you trudged through the fallen leaves and dead brush underneath your boots, already glistening with fresh dewdrops, leading your small squad of four through the maze of baring trees.

The small single beep that radiated from the walkytalky on your hip rung out just loud enough for you to catch it. Without looking down or missing a determined step, you felt down for the call button on the side, clicked it in response, and waited for an answer.

Finally, a familiar voice crackled through the small speaker. “Beta, you read?”

You threw a quick glance over your shoulder at your crew for attendance and held up a hand, signaling them to stop behind you. “Beta’s good.”

There was muffled chatter for a moment while Simon checked in with Charlie and Delta, and after they confirmed their condition, it was followed by silence.

You shifted your weight on your feet impatiently, already struggling to see just feet in front of you as the sun disappeared. There had been no sign of the group you were after yet — at least, for your squad — and you were getting angrier and angrier at Simon and Negan for sending you the direction they did incase any of your targets caught wind of the gameplan and detoured or actually discovered any of the dozens of Saviors that were roaming the area all around you.

“Everything ok, boss?”

You looked to Lola as she stepped toward you, bloodshot eyes wide in eager anticipation, itching for a fight as always. A smile crept onto your face at the sight of your friend as she bounced on her heels, glancing left and right and back and forth, the two black knots of hair falling loosely from their spot on the top of her head.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking to the radio on your hands. “Just Simon dicking around like always.”

Lola laughed dryly and nodded in understanding. “Figured as much.”

Toby swung the heavy bag from his back and dropped it to the ground with a grunt, leaving it momentarily to stretch and doubled over with a satisfied groan. When he straightened up, he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the crackling of the radio at your side.

“Alright everyone, listen up.” Simon’s voice was oozing with superiority he thought he had and you rolled your eyes. “They’re rounding ‘em all up by the camp off of Hudson. It’s marked on your maps, so hurry up and get your asses over here. It’s go time!”

“Got it,” you said into the speaker before tucking it back onto your hip. Toby hoisted the bag back up over his shoulders. Meyers pulled the roadmap from his own smaller pack, and Lola shined her mag light onto it.

“Maybe a half mile,” she said, trailing her pointer finger along the paper Meyers held in his hands quietly. “Keep going straight.”

You nodded. “Let’s go meet these fuckers.”

Marching on, the three followed you back into the dark forest.

You spotted the headlights from your vans and trucks before you reached the clearing, the rumble of chatter from your fellow Saviors growing as you neared them. The Sanctuary was a large community but it wasn’t the only one; there were probably fifty Saviors around you and every single one of them was just as pissed off as you were.

There was a camper parked on the far end and you curiously made your way toward it, unsure of whether or not it was occupied and if it was, you wanted to be sure it wasn’t nobody that should be on their knees in the clearing behind you.

You retrieved your weapon from your back and poised it up and ready to fire as you pulled the flimsy plastic door open and climbed the first step inside.

“And, BANG! You’re dead.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around toward the unmistakable voice behind you frantically. Only when you found Negan and saw his cocky grin as he emerged from a darkened corner did you lower your gun and place a hand overtop of your heart just to make sure it was still beating and he hadn’t actually scared you to death.

“God, you fucking asshole,” you bit out breathlessly. “I almost shot you!”

“You need to be more careful, doll.” He crept toward you and even in the dim light the vehicles outside hardly provided in the small room you could see his perfect teeth glistening as he grinned down at you mischievously. “I could’ve shot you before you even got a chance to see me. And wouldn’t that be a shitty way to die?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved at him dismissively and stood on your toes to peer over his shoulder through the cracked blinds behind him, watching as your crew surrounded the line of strangers on their knees, circling them like vultures. “We got ‘em,” you said, almost surprised, and Negan noticed.

“Did you ever doubt that we would?”

“No, it was just getting late and I was about ready to throw in the towel and try again tomorrow.”

Still smiling, Negan shook his head slowly. “Now, that is not the girl I know...”

“Yeah, well...” you shrugged. The comfortability between you two was always present and especially welcomed at that moment, considering the long and exhausting day you’d had keeping up the unwavering front as your squad’s leader. It was unsettling sometimes how easily you could let your guard down around him. “It’s fucking cold outside, Negan.”

He slinked closer to you, his large frame towering over you so close to you that his body was radiating warmth that you were craving.

You could feel his breath on your chilled skin: “Awe, poor baby,” he crooned; you didn’t know if it was his proximity or his words that sent a chill down your spine, but goosebumps made their way over your whole body in waves.

The compliments and flirtatiousness were always present between you two but you disregarded it as friendly banter — you, unlike most women you came across, could handle a little inappropriate banter and his perverted sense of humor. Hell, most of the time, you could match it; make him blush even. But as it had always been with you and your predominantly male group of friends, harmless teasing was all that it was and would ever be. And you would be just fine with that.

But harmless teasing had left you and Negan behind some time ago, despite your attempt to simply ignore the heat that pooled in your stomach every time you caught him staring at you from across the room.

But at that moment, he wasn’t across the room, noticeably eye-fucking you with his tongue hanging from his jaw like a dog. No — he had dropped that bad boy persona and took on his role as the leader of a deadly and violent group of soldiers and held his act together with confidence and class. Over the course of the day you’d watched him go from a horny teenager to a man that would hold you down until you caved and called him daddy.

You worked for Negan. He was your boss, essentially. And part of that concerned you. But there was another part of you, a much bigger and stronger part, that excited you even more.

And he knew it, too; standing there before you with his lips hovering so close to yours that the minuscule distance between them began to actually, physically hurt. So standing there with Negan, toe-to-toe, you caved and let the hype and adrenaline of the day’s events consume you and without giving yourself another second to contemplate it, you closed the small space between you two impatiently.

The second that your lips touched his it was like a switch had been flicked on inside of him, as if he’d been posed restlessly at the starting line waiting for the gunshot that told him to fucking go. The simple act had given him all the permission he’d needed and you let him guide you backwards until your back hit the wall and he pinned you up against it deliciously, fueling the fire that was burning in your veins and had you yearning for him, refusing to smolder and burn out until you had every inch of him in the palm of your hand — literally and figuratively.

Just as his normal behavior always flaunted, he was cocky and dominant with his kissing as well, biting on your lower lip and tugging gently and eliciting an unwilling moan from you that only seemed to drive him on. He let out a low growl in response and the sound itself could’ve melted you on the spot. In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole RV around you went up in flames from the energy he was emitting.

His large hands explored your body the best they could with the layers you had on, fumbling with the buttons on your coat until they could make their way inside the heavy material and slowly move up and down and ghost around your breasts tauntingly. He knew exactly what he was doing — you were making a point to not remind yourself that. And it wasn’t hard considering his movements had you like putty in the palm of his hand and he manipulated and rolled you between his fingers hungrily.

When he pinned both of your wrists in one hand overtop of your head you felt your knees weaken and threaten to give up underneath you. But the second that his mouth left your lips and dropped to the nape of your neck you were both interrupted by a voice right outside of the door.

“Let’s meet the man!”

You weren’t sure why you panicked and shoved him off of you, panicking at the thought of anybody seeing you, even if it was just Simon. Nervously you looked to Negan to gauge his reaction to your sudden change of heart but he seemed to understand and simply stood up and retrieved Lucille from where she was propped up against the counter.

Simon knocked to alert Negan and he headed toward the door, readjusting the red scarf around his neck and bringing a hand up behind his head to smooth down the hair your wandering hands had tussled.

With a smile in a wink that almost had you jumping back on top of him, he grabbed the door handle and gave you one last provocative up-and-down, running his tongue over his perfect teeth like a snake. “You come out whenever you’re ready, baby girl.”

And with that, he stepped out of the camper, letting the door swing and slam shut behind him.

When you were positive he’d left from earshot, you let yourself fall onto the cushions behind you with a deep sigh.

“What the fuck have I done?” You asked yourself quietly, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up into the words. You really backed yourself into a corner. Next time you saw Negan he would want to finish what you had started. Did you want to finish it? You wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t. So what does that mean for you as a Savior? He’d have to kill you to get you into one of those skimpy black dresses and call yourself a wife. You would sooner take a job on the fence.

You should’ve known it was bound to happen sooner or later — that was always how things went. You weren’t his ‘right-hand’, but you might as well have been. You were a team, a good match in temperament and skill, successful in most things you did together. You could deny it all you want, but that spark had always been there, and you tried to ignore it only to make it much more obnoxious than it had already had been.

He had to respect you to some degree beyond a comrade to never make a serious move on you before, right?

It was scary to connect with people in the new world; scary to find somebody that made you feel something than other than basic survival instincts and could make you forget about the way life had changed. It was dangerous and you were just asking to be hurt, never being able to prepare yourself for when he was inevitably ripped from your grasp.

You knew that for a fact because it had happen before, and you weren’t sure if you could handle another loss.

Not knowing if they’d gotten lost, abandoned you, been killed or tortured or eaten alive. That was the hard part. Not knowing.

But if you wanted to live, you couldn’t dwell on things like that. You know there were certain people who would want you to move on and be happy and find comfort in somebody else’s arms, regardless of how narcissistic, cocky and borderline delirious they could be.

You shook the whirling thoughts from your head: you didn’t couldn’t in the dark and reminisce all night. You had a job to do.

Retrieving your gun from where you’d discarded in on the table you straightened yourself up, making sure to settle your own messy hair back into a relatively decent ponytail, and forced your personal feelings back down where they belonged: buried underneath more pressing matters.

You opened the door as quietly as possible as to not draw attention to yourself, and it would’ve worked had Negan not been staring in your direction as if he’d been waiting for you to emerge. He was on the other side of the group he had lined up, kneeling before him, all 10 or so avoiding his gaze except for the guy in the middle whom he was crouched in front of.

He smiled when he saw you. “There’s my girl.”

Your face flushed red and you cursed yourself for it, not wanting to show any sign of anything more than a professional relationship with Negan but also furious with him for stopping his big, dramatic facade to acknowledge her that way in front of the large crowd around you.

You sunk back into like in front of your squad and felt Lola nudge you harshly with her elbow, so much so that it knocked you off balance and you snapped back angrily at your friend and glared at her from over your shoulder. But it was hard to be mad at her as she stared up at you wide wide eyes and an even wider smile, telling you everything you needed to know about what she was thinking and how she felt about it all.

Negan stood up and sashayed around the group like the prima donna he was, though he spoke nothing but truth with no exaggerations, his recap of all your people the strangers before you had killed brutally successfully bringing back the anger you’d forgotten about for just a few moments.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of a man hunched over under a blanket, covered in blood you presumed had to be his with how badly his body was trembling.

Negan has begun one of his theatrical scenes and was slowly circling the strangers with Lucille outstretched before him but you couldn’t focus because you were still squinting in the dark, struggling to see the face of the injured man across from you because something felt wrong about him. You couldn’t explain the odd feeling you were getting from him, trying to make out his features in the shadows of the headlights as Negan passed by him slowly, taunting him with his scare tactics.

Then, like a freight train, it hit you. Hard.

Recognition.

He was familiar — the strong arms and broad chest, shaggy hair that casted over his eyes as he hung his head weakly. But when Negan stepped by him, sticking Lucille in his face menacingly, he actually rose his eyes and glared up at him, fearless and unwavering.

The strength was your first hint; the shadows lifting from his features and revealing a face that turned your previously boiling blood into pure shards of ice.

Your stomach dropped. The wind was knocked from your lungs. The world was tilting dangerously around you and you felt like you were going to keel over. But you had to know for sure.

You looked to the person at his side. And the next one. And the person next to them. And then to the man in the middle and you were sure you might’ve passed out of Lola didn’t catch on and wrap a gloved hand around your elbow, whispering something unintelligible that you could hardly hear. And while you so badly wanted to just turn around and assure her you were fine, you found that you lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

The only words that you could manage to squeak out, barely audible, felt so distant and so wrong on your own tongue: “It’s them.”

wouldn’t this be an incredible 2 parter!!!!! *wink nudge @crossbowking dont hate me lol xx*

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @thatsoragan @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #negan imagine #negan thirst squad #twd #twd negan #twd fanfiction #one shot

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alcttass-blog · 5 years ago

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Is that KYLIE JENNER?! No it’s just ALETTA ANTOUN. From our interview we have heard that the TANTALIZING is apparently a SOCIALITE AND INFLUENCER who’s been living a lavish lifestyle in LAS VEGAS with 67.1 M followers! Now that they’ve signed a contact to pricelesshqs fans will be ecstatic to see them on screen. But rumor has it they are hard to deal with as they’re FINICKY, IMPETUOUS, OBSTREPEROUS. Fortunately for us we’ve heard they’re actually EFFULGENT, COMPASSIONATE, VEHEMENT. Let’s see how they survive our show while they arrive in the luxurious life of pricelesshqs!

hi hello !! im gianna and this is my angel love aletta !! i kind of rearranged her bio to fit so ?? if things dont make sense its my stupid ass fault asdfgh . on another note im super excited to jump into this and if you want to plot give this a heart or message me !!

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼

full name : aletta josephine antoun. nickname : aj, alet, letty. age : twenty one. birthday : february sixteenth, nineteen ninety eight thus making her an aquarius. gender / pronouns : cisfemale / she and her. sexual orientation : heterosexual. romantic orientation : heteroromantic. spoken languages : english, italian, spanish. hometown : las vegas, nevada. parents : carmine gwyar and natalia antoun . carmine is the founder of karma ( casino ) and carmine hotel , two million dollar businesses that are spread throughout not only las vegas, but the rest of the states. her mother is an retired model who happens to be an author that just published the third book to her series ‘the others’, an dystopian novel. siblings : apollo bennett gwyar, claudio emanuel antoun, atlas james gwyar, natasha maeve gwyar, angelo cyrus antoun, julius sebastian antoun. goals : to live fully. tropes / personality : the effervescent , the rich party girl , the globetrotter , should of been business mogul , the icarian , the lover of all things beauty.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂

gwyar , means “gore” or “spilled blood, bloodshed” in old welsh ; a definition that runs deeper than words written on faded pages , and instead carved themselves in human flesh. the name spreads silent fear across the streets of las vegas .. entangles itself within the eyes of the locals while being drowned out by the drunken happiness of tourists . spilling blood is what the gwyar’s have done for generations , from the moment diego gwyar’s foot landed on the broken sidewalks of las vegas it was said blood washed over the city like a storm . the family , they are tied into an lifestyle that screamed of violence , drugs , but most importantly power . no matter who’s face it stared at, it always had a habit of filling your lungs and causing you to drown in it .

aletta josephine was birthed to swim in the danger , to succeed . her father’s business was her legacy , his ties were her responsibilities . she was to fall in line , to make her daddy proud . and for a while , she did . she played the part, did her part . watched from the sidelines , included herself when she had to , she did it all . aletta drowned in the sensation of having such a power that it made those around her drop to their knees and beg . at sixteen she felt holy , at eighteen she felt sick to her stomach.

the lifestyle was a high , sent her emotions playing a game of how far can you drop once you hit your high . she should of felt blessed , protected , privilege , mighty . but all she wanted to do was run .. her brother use to tell her, “ letty, you cant have the highs without the lows .. especially with this.” it took a long time for her to understand that the diamonds that sat on her neck , the cars that sat in her driveway , the clothes that mountain her closest came with the blood , tears , the pain. she could not be the mob bosses daughter , without the mob boss.

at seventeen , she broke away from her fathers grasp . decided to chase her passion with hope that the darkness from her father would not follow . her family should her mixed reactions , splitting into two directions ; her mother spilled of happiness. excited to think of an future for her child where she was alive , healthy , living her life the way she wanted to .. and her father ? decided that if you did not stand with the business, his choices, that you did not stand with him. he made her choose, and so she did. she jumped into the influencing industry before launching aletta beauty , a dream that turned into an empire ..

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

crazed oceans swimming under neath sun kissed skies , the soft smell of vanilla dancing across exposed skin , gentle nudes blending into hard oranges, peach vodka lingering on plump lips , warm orbs drowning in dark features , acrylic nails tapping anxiously , gold jewelry sitting on long fingers , cursive tattoos carved into ribs , quiet cries drowning in a dark sky , thunder distracting worried minds , affectionate touches , losing yourself in others for the sensation of warmth , loud music drowning out sorrows , happiness banging on brick walls for freedom , light giggles in the dead of the night , smooth lips pressed to bare skin , fingers interlocked with another , a constant craving to be loved dipping into skin , blood dripping down like water drops, soft lips on faceless bodies, sun kissed skin becoming on with sandy beaches, bold moans in the backseat of her car, simple shaped necklaces siting between collar bones, blunts between glossy lips, tired hands editing for hours on hours, stamped passports, white toes in clear ocean waters.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂

to lurking eyes , the brunette tends to catch ditzy vibes and shallow tendencies . labels as such usually tend to hold some kind of truth, but when it comes to aletta? there’s more that meets the eye than assumptions from afar. her feet run on carelessness, blood intertwined with impulsiveness ; her wands wrap around your throat and for odd reason you cannot help but fall in love with the sensation. ebullient in human form , a crazed ocean that pulls you in. you want to lose yourself in her : her boisterous chatter in the sea of friends in an melody to your ears , and when the sun lowers and the bass of music dances in the air her giggles laced with vodka lingers. it’s said that the sound itself is intoxicating. like, for some reason, whether its her light in your lungs or her darkness around your throat, you cant let her go. she strives to be good, to be kind . but she is a child who was induced with happiness and then slowly picked at , lost innocence , witnessed monsters with human faces and so she comes to understand she will not always be good nor kind. she will be hard to read at times, hard to please. some nights, she may tell you about all the way she loves you and the next? she’ll turn away. and despite it all, she’ll still want you to be there for her in the morning. she needs meaningful bonds with others, needs to feel like if one day she disappeared people would miss her. wouldnt be able to live without her. she wants to feel important. she believes in loving yourself, being kind to yourself. and so, she tries not to drown for everyone. its a hard task though, considering she gets attached easily . she wants you , she needs you , and then she gets scared. she’s passionate, feels the world around her on a level that most do not understand. and it makes her scattered? she can ride the highs, but sometimes she has to ride the lows to. she is a lover, will give you her all. put in the time and the effort. it makes her affectionate ; affectionate touches are what she lives for. not just romantically, but platonically too. she likes to goof around, wants to fill everyone around her with light. wants to save everyone. is an hard worker, ambitious, likes having something she can put her energy into and conquer. sometimes her work ethic gets a little out of hand. but at the end of the day, she is her fathers daughter ; and it bleeds through. she an be stubborn, jealous . she can be hurtful, even selfish. but she is constantly trying to overcome it.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

she a few of her other siblings have took her mothers last name instead, making it easier for them to stand in the media without the prying. but regardless, she is a gwyar no matter if she changes her name or not.

she had been a daddy’s girl, from the moment she opened her eyes she was drawn to him. her mom would tease that she loved him more, and though that was never true her father was without an doubt her favorite parent.

when she parted ways, he decided that she no longer deserved the connection they once shared ; he cut her off. not financially, she was and still is gifted all of her luxuries. her part in the company still transferred into her account, she could still reach out to her mother for cash if needed. but the tenderness? the warmness? it disappeared. he refused to even look at her in her eyes.

she is highly protected , constantly has her siblings and what they call ‘bodyguards ‘checking in on her since she moved from their family house ; and even now you will see strange men whom seem like they were pulled out of the secret service drop in on her.

her eldest brother apollo, in more ways than one took on that father figure roll for aletta. being opposed to his fathers treatment, he stepped in. she has an appreciation for him that runs deep.

despite her being insanely close to apollo, aletta and her twin have a bond that no one can touch. with them, it has always been us against the world. she would die for any of her siblings, but for her twin? she’d kill for them without hesitation.

her want to live to the fullest point, has come from seeing the life being drained from others. she does not ever want to see herself in that position. so she promised herself she would never.. she’d live impulsively, foolishly, carelessly .. but regardless, she’ll live.

traveling is the one thing she knows will fill her heart, to see the world and capture all the things that it has to offer will not be an opportunity she misses. it’s why she found herself really enjoying the life of touring .

one important thing about her is that she craves meaningful bonds with others, she likes to feel like if one day she disappeared that people would miss her? would be lost without? she just wants to feel important.

she spent a lot of her summers in italy with her brother, which is why she is fond of the language.

aletta beauty is much so kylie cosmetics asdj how original ? i know.

i see her being kind of an ?? rihanna in the beauty industry and a david dobrik in the youtube ! sitting on the line of sis really did that with her beauty line and i love that bitch when it comes with being an influencer.

despite being the youngest , her father swore she was going to be the one to take over his business . his plan was to always allow the twins to take over . which is why it hit him so hard when she refused to.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

♡ wanted connections page !

and in case none of those catches your eyes, a list of generic plots !!!

♡ protective friendship, friends with benefits, close friends, old friends, distant friends, ex friends, ex friends with benefits, cousins, hardly related cousins, family friends, childhood friends, friendly competition, rivals, models who model for her line, artist she collabs with a lot, artist who have wrote a song for her, artist she has wrote for, frenemies, one night stands, summer flings, friends with lingering feelings, one sided friendships, one sided relationships, people who have used her, pr friendships, pr relationships.

#priceless.intro

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years ago

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Butterfly [51]

summary Do it yourself

“Man, can’t believe the school year’s almost over. We should go on a trip during the break,” Shikamaru declared, crossing his arms behind his head. He flopped onto his back, stretching his legs out.

“Where were you thinking, Nara-sensei?” asked Itachi, looking up from his sketchbook. Kiba lowered his phone to peek at them, listening in on the conversation.

“Dunno.... maybe Hakone? An onsen sounds nice,” mused Shikamaru. Kiba grimaced. He aimed a kick at Shikamaru’s thigh.

“We’ve got a million hot springs around here. Yufuin is like... 40 minutes away. Why would I go all the way up to Hakone?” retorted Kiba. Itachi wasn’t as violent in his protest, but he nodded as Kiba spoke.

“I bet Haruno would want to go,” grumbled Shikamaru.

“I bet she’d call you an idiot too,” snorted Kiba.

And then, at the same time, they turned in the direction of the door to yell: “HARUNO!”

Sakura appeared in the doorway, a cardboard box on her hip.

“Either way, I can’t go. I’m busy during spring break,” she told them.

Kiba and Shikamaru snuck glances at Itachi, hopeful smiles stretching their mouths. But their expressions fell when they saw the bewilderment in his face. Shikamaru very carefully nudged Itachi’s back with his foot.

“What are your plans, Haruno-sensei?” Itachi questioned. Sakura reached into the box to pull out a poster. It was light blue with glittering snowflakes creating a frame. In the middle was a bejeweled ice skate.

“Stars on Ice Japan Tour 2018,” Itachi read the English, squinting a little without his glasses.

“I’ll be in Osaka and then Yokohama,” she added.

“You weren’t going to tell us?” asked Shikamaru, reading the dates. She would be gone for all of spring break. Sakura lowered the poster, eyebrows rising.

“I just did,” she replied. “Weirdo.”

Kiba made a face at her back as she turned around to head back into the house.

“She’s always doing this,” sighed Shikamaru.

“Yeah. One day she was all-” Kiba raised his phone to his ear. “Hey. I’m getting married. Lol.” He mocked her in a high-pitched voice.

“I can hear you!” Sakura called from inside.

“Good! I hate you!” Kiba shouted in response. Kiba and Shikamaru exchanged a long look. Then, sighing, Kiba sat up to clap his hand on Itachi’s shoulder.

“Alright, Uchiha-sensei. We’re in crisis mode,” he whispered.

“Crisis mode?” repeated Itachi. Kiba shushed him. Itachi looked to Shikamaru. But Shikamaru was sitting up too, his expression weary as he nodded along.

“You gotta pick up the pace, man. Especially if she’s going to be seeing all those skaters,” Kiba hissed. When Itachi gave him a blank look, Kiba huffed. He typed something into his phone before throwing it at him.

Itachi barely managed to catch it by the tips of his fingers. It was open to an image search.

“Look! Look at how buff all those skaters are! And it’s, like, statistically improbable how good-looking each one is!” Kiba whispered loudly, casting nervous looks over his shoulder. Like Sakura would be hovering over him, listening in. Itachi lowered the phone. Shikamaru was nodding.

“They’re all hot,” he agreed in a low voice. He flexed his arm, giving Itachi a pointed look. Itachi glanced at his own arm, then at the phone. Then back up at Shikamaru and Kiba. Who were staring holes into him.

“Um.”

Itachi typed a few words into Kiba’s phone. He looked up the website. And then he held it up for his friends to see.

“All the tickets are sold out. For every show,” he told them.

“Guess I’ll die, then,” declared Shikamaru, falling onto his back again.

Yoshino held out a paper bag. Sakura peered inside. There were pocket warmers and energy drinks.

"Take care of yourself, Sakura-chan. I wish you weren’t going alone," Yoshino fretted.

"Let me give you some spending money. Buy yourself a nice dinner," Shikaku declared, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. Shikamaru grabbed his father’s arm.

“Mom, Dad, you don’t have to do this every time. She’s not a kid,” sighed Shikamaru. Yoshino reached out to rub her hands up and down Sakura’s arms.

“I know. I know. It’s just... well, you understand me, right, Sakura-chan?” Yoshino said. Sakura smiled.

“I get it. Thank you, Oba-san, Oji-san.”

Sighing, Yoshino pulled Sakura in for a hug, stroking Sakura’s back. “Why couldn’t we have had a beautiful, sweet daughter like you instead of that rude son?”

“Hey!”

The flight to Osaka was short. By the time the attendants served drinks, it was time to begin the descent into Itami Airport. Haku met her at arrivals, bouncing from foot to foot as she dragged her suitcase behind her. He pulled his black mask down to reveal his grin.

“Hey,” Sakura greeted him, throwing her arms around him. He squeezed back just as hard. But she felt something hard against his chest. She pulled away, already glaring at him.

“Are you-?”

She didn’t even get a chance to finish the question. Because Haku reached into the front of his jacket. He hooked his thumb into the ribbon and pulled out the gold medal he had won at Worlds. He waved it back and forth like a pendulum.

“You seriously wore that all the way here?” she demanded.

Haku nodded. He let it drop back under his shirt. Sighing, she reached out to ruffle his hair.

“You’re unbelievable,” she declared.

“Yeah, I know,” he retorted.

They had lunch together, Haku talking a mile a minute as he caught her up on everything. She had missed the first couple days of rehearsal because of work. Sakura knew that Tsunade would have excused her without hesitation. But it felt wrong to be missing so many days, especially since it would be the last few days she would see the seniors. So she had stuck around until the last day of the spring semester and even attended graduation before taking the next flight up to Osaka.

“I can’t believe Karin-chan’s retiring. I feel old!” Haku groaned, reaching for her plate. Sakura pushed it over to him so that he could steal the last of her salad. She slapped his fingers away when he began reaching for her cookie, though.

“Okay. Anyone I should keep an eye out for?” she asked. Haku gave her puppy dog eyes when she opened the plastic and tore off a hunk of her cookie. She didn’t offer him a crumb. He made a face. Crossing his arms, he rested his elbows on the plastic table.

“Nah, not really. Everyone seems pretty cool,” he replied.

They hung out for a little while longer. They made a little detour to visit Kobe Harborland. They took a couple selfies in front of the ferris wheel, which Haku spent the taxi ride editing and filtering to look just right.

When they arrived at the arena they ran into one of the other skaters in the parking lot. She hugged Sakura, chattering nonstop about how nice it was to see her. This continued on as they entered the lobby. They flashed their ID at security, who pointed them in the direction of the locker room. Sakura waved at Haku as they parted between the men’s and women’s locker rooms.

The one-sided conversation stopped short when Karin spotted them. She pounced, grabbing Sakura in a hug. She kissed each of Sakura’s cheeks, leaving lipstick marks.

“Прости,” Karin apologized as she rubbed at the red with the edge of her sleeve.

“That’s okay, Karin-chan. It’s good to see you too,” laughed Sakura.

Stars on Ice had reached out to Sakura many times throughout her career. It had surprised her when they had contacted her again this year. After all, there were dozens of young skaters who were in the spotlight now. Why reach out to someone who had retired? And rejected them dozens of times before?

But they had been thrilled to have her. And as one of the staff members gave her the rundown, Sakura was surprised by the amount of freedom she was given with her programs. As soon as the meeting was over, someone dashed across the rink toward her. She barely recognized Mangetsu before he collided with her.

“Hi!” she exclaimed as he squeezed her in one arm and Haku in the other.

“Get off me, you old fart!” Haku snapped, shoving him away. And then he struggled to pry his arm off of Sakura.

“Relax, Shimizu. We were friends first, right?” Mangetsu goaded him.

“Hi, Hozuki-kun,” Sakura laughed. She threw her arms around Haku, squeezing him against her chest.

“Don’t be jealous, little Haku-chan,” she teased in a baby voice.

“The both of you suck. Lemme go!” snarled Haku, flailing his arms around. But Sakura held tight. And Mangetsu held onto the both of them, cackling as Haku began spewing profanities.

Sakura showed off the new choreography to Karin. But as she did a triple-salchow, she miscalculated the distance and botched her landing. She skidded on the ice, giggling as she rolled onto her side.

“You okay, Haruno?” called Karin.

“My butt!” groaned Sakura, still laughing.

Mangetsu did a wide loop around her, waiting for her to get to her feet. But when Sakura held out her hand, he drew closer. He grasped her outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet. Once she was steady, he swung her in a circle around him. She released his hand, grabbing the opposite one as she completed the loop.

Mangetsu pulled her in closer, but she pushed off his chest, rolling her eyes at him.

“Maybe we should’ve done pairs,” he suggested, releasing her hand.

“No way. We would’ve killed each other,” she pointed out.

“You’re right,” he conceded, chuckling. "But you’re tiny. I bet I could lift you easy.”

A look crossed Sakura’s face as she considered that. She tilted her head a little. Skates slowing, she looked in Karin’s direction. The redhead was by the edge of the rink, chatting with Suigetsu and one of the Chinese skaters. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that sometimes Suigetsu would lift her. And then they would joke about having her replace his ice dance partner.

“Wait, let’s try it,” Sakura suggested. She held out her hands. Mangetsu grabbed them, lacing their fingers together.

“Alright. On the count of three,” he told her.

Everyone turned to watch as Mangetsu lifted Sakura into the air, his arms shaking a little. But as her elbows locked, Sakura found herself held rather securely in a press lift.

“Am I heavy?” she called down to him, core and back muscles tight as she tried to keep steady.

“Not really,” Mangetsu replied.

“Wait, how do I get down?” Sakura then wondered, realizing that the rink was suddenly a couple meters away from her feet. She began giggling, and so did Mangetsu. Their arms began shaking from the movement.

“Help!” she laughed.

Haku and Suigetsu glided over. Suigetsu said something to his older brother while Haku approached Sakura. As Mangetsu began easing his arms down, Haku wrapped his arms around Sakura’s legs. She tried to stop laughing at how ridiculous the situation had become. She sagged against Haku when her blades finally touched the ice.

“This is like how cats climb up into trees and can’t get down,” Haku remarked.

Sakura turned, already lunging from him. But Haku had read her body language and began skating away. She hurried after him, arms pumping at her sides. When she finally seized his shoulders from behind, he kept going, dragging her along after him.

“Conga line!” Sakura announced. Karin caught up to them, grasping Sakura’s shoulders. When a fourth skater joined in, he threw them off balance, sending them tumbling onto the ice. Sakura sat there, laughing and laughing until her stomach hurt. Haku laughed right along with her, barely protesting when she slapped his arm a couple times.

“Feeling nervous?” Karin asked as she fixed the buttons of Sakura’s costume that Saturday afternoon.

“A little. But also no,” replied Sakura.

“I heard the tickets sold out right away when people found out that you were joining the line-up,” Karin teased just a little. And Sakura looked over her shoulder at her. Karin stuck out her tongue before she gave Sakura a light slap on her back. Her costume was all secured.

They could hear string music playing as the introduction video played on the big screens. She and Karin made their way into the tunnel. It led straight out onto the ice. And in the darkness, she could make out the packed stands. Black silhouettes crowding together.

One by one, they played a short clip for each performer. And then they would do a short lap around the rink before heading back out, just to whet the appetites of the audience.

A staff member with a clipboard tapped her on the arm, urging her forward.

The ice was dark as she skated out of the tunnel. She could hear the whispers and rustles of paper as she glided out. And when the purple and white spotlights flickered on, screams erupted all around her. Sakura threw her arms up, beaming.

People had brought along signs with her name on them. They shook them, waving their hands as she moved past them. She did a lap all around the rink. It was smaller than what she was used to, but it was nice that the seats were so close. She could finally see the faces of all the people in the audience.

Including Itachi, who sat in one of the VIP seats at the very front. Her eyes widened as their gazes met. And she wondered whether she had just been seeing things. But when she glanced over her shoulder, he was still sitting there. Shaking her head a little, she forced the smile back onto her face.

“Oh, Itachi-kun, she looked right at me!” Mikoto said, shaking Itachi’s arm a little. It took a second for his mother’s voice to process in his brain. Itachi looked over at her, at the way Mikoto held the pamphlet in front of her mouth as she spoke. Her sparkling eyes. And he laughed a little.

“Yeah, Mom. She did,” he agreed with her.

#writing #butterfly #itasaku #been feeling sad about the lack of reviews on ff.net #so i won't be updating there for a while #feels good to be back though #i'm exhausted #september is the worst month tho #it'll be better from now on :)#my students are real weird this year and i love them all

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margridarnauds · 6 years ago

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hey what's up i'm here to nudge you about your headcanons regarding Nous Ne Sommes and who Lazare is REALLY addressing it to

Thanks!

Your Fave is Problematic: The Lazare de Peyrol edition

*Mandatory disclaimer that the following is my own personal interpretation of the lyrics because I have never pretended to know what’s going on in Attia and Chouquet’s brains at any given point and I’m not going to start now because I feel like it would terrify me. Also I might be a little tired while typing this out and so the coherency is…questionable.*

With apologies to anyone who’s heard me discuss this before:

So, my take on it is that there are three people, or groups of people, that Laz is addressing here, the revolutionaries (surface, and tbh probably what they were going for), his men, and himself. (Info on the military history stuff comes from The Response of the Royal Army to the French Revolution: The Role and Development of the Line Army, 1787-93 by Samuel F. Scott which is a very solid read as far as emphasizing the social changes in the army and where everyone stood in regards to one another before and after the Storming of the Bastille.)

The Revolutionaries

“Insurgés obtempérez.” Need I say more? Lazare has been given the green light to put down the revolt by any means necessary, he’s going to do it. It’s also why he keeps emphasizing that this is their last chance (”Attention c'est l'ultime sommation“). I don’t like the interpretation of Lazare as a sadist, personally; it’s actually one of the things that I’m…not as fond of when it comes to what both Zuka and Toho did to him. (But Zuka gave me the glorious, glorious Peyronan content so I can’t really COMPLAIN.) He doesn’t necessarily want to kill people, but….well, he’s a soldier. He’s not a courtier or a diplomat (which is…unusual for the times, tbh.) He came in there to do a job, he’ll give them one last chance, and if they don’t, he’ll use whatever force is needed to keep the order. With that interpretation in mind, when he says, “Obéir sans défaillir/Nous nous sommes engagés/Toujours servir sans jamais fléchir/Oui nous l'avons juré” he’s reminding them that his men are sworn to do this and that they won’t flinch from doing what’s necessary.

His Men

This is where things get a little dicey. Historically, we know that there was a HUGE amount of tension between the officers of the regiments and their men, with a lot of the latter deserting. One of my favorite quotes is from a pamphlet being circulated to soldiers at the time, says, “We are Citizens before being Soldiers…we are in short, Frenchmen and not slaves…if they have swords, have you not sabres? If they are a hundred, are you not a thousand?” This was one of the reasons why there was so little military involvement when the Bastille was stormed; NO ONE was sure whether the men would stay loyal. There’s a reason why the ONE regiment that we have an account of, the Royal-Allemand Cavalerie, who charged the Tuileries on July 12 was…a group of German speakers, with significantly less chance of personal ties to the people of Paris. (And who faced insanely low rates of desertion because everyone hated them so much afterwards they kind of had to stick together.)

So…”Nous ne sommes/Les valets de personnes” is a good line for the revolutionaries, YES, but it also works very, very well for the situation about the men. And this time around, Lazare gets ahold of his men and keeps control, but…will it last? Look at his motions during some of the parts.

Sometimes, he’s keeping things perfectly in control, others, it’s like he’s BARELY holding things in check, his movements getting very erratic at points. It’s such a 180 from the way Seijou Kaito played it in the Takarazuka, where she’s pretty much perfectly composed, or the way that he’d be played in the Toho where he’s much more PHYSICAL, even stepping on Robespierre’s face at one point. He’s trying to control the actions (AKA keeping within his character description of “il représente l'ordre et la rigidité de l'ancien régime.” Peyrol THRIVES on order and control and everything being in its proper place, when that gets bucked, he doesn’t know what to do) but? In reality, it’s a DELICATE hold.

On one hand, his men are following his actions, mirroring him, but on the other, LOOK at his body language. His fists are clenched here as he’s leaning forward. And, like, obviously, on a purely practical level, Matthieu Carnot’s gotta be pretty damn exhausted because, despite evidence to the contrary, he’s not a superhuman figure of unlimited energy and stamina and our boy has to keep concentrated on the choreography, but on the other…Laz as a character is putting himself through some pretty difficult moves to keep control. At the same time as he’s reminding the people of what he’s doing with the lines about his men having sworn an oath, he’s also reminding THEM about it, “You swore this oath to the King, you WILL come through now” but are they REALLY going to take him up on it? It’s not really a full guarantee until the end.

So, who’s REALLY saying “We are not the valets of anyone?” The revolutionaries, yes, but what about his men? After all, post-revolution, it wasn’t UNCOMMON for officers to face the wrath of their men, their once guaranteed authority no longer enough to hold them up. Peyrol was able to assert his authority this time, but there’s NO guarantee that that will hold up.

Himself

His men, however, aren’t the only Frenchmen being ordered to fire on Frenchmen, though. And, even though Peyrol’s presumably been at this long enough that I think he’s somewhat numbed, this is miles away from what he did to Papa Mazurier at the beginning as far as the scope. (Though both of them are also situations where Peyrol thought he could assert control getting away from him.)

I’ve already discussed the way that Lazare tends to excuse away things, it’s seen in Maniaque when he tells Ronan that the King’s rule comes from God, from before the dawn of time, and it’s shown here as well. When he sings, “Avant que le sang coule/Par la folie des foules” on one hand…that’s an obvious reminder to the revolutionaries to back down, but on the other…there’s something OFF about it, at least to me. If he was talking to the crowd of the revolutionaries, why not address them directly instead of refer to them as “des foules.” (Besides the fact that it didn’t fit the rhythm of the song as well.)

He’s already beginning to justify his actions, lying to himself as his way of coping with what he’s going to do because, to him, there’s never BEEN another option. It’s always been the army, it’s always been unquestioning, unthinking loyalty. (Which is why Ronan’s very existence short circuits his brain on multiple levels.) And, more importantly, he keeps on doing it. “La sanction légitime.” Who cares if it’s legal or illegal? Not the revolutionaries. It doesn’t matter if it’s legitimate or not, they’re going to get shot one way or another. The men…probably not. It could work, as far as reminding them that this is a Very Official Order, but who would REALLY care? It functions as one more way that he tries to remove himself from his own involvement and guilt, trying to justify himself preemptively.

“I am here on the King’s order, I am speaking with his voice on this issue, and if I don’t do this, more people will die.” He’s addressing the people, yes, but he’s also trying to prepare himself for what’s going to come next.

It’s very, very interested to me how he emphasizes “NOUS” in his statements on “Obéir sans défaillir/Nous nous sommes engagés/Toujours servir sans jamais fléchir/Oui nous l'avons juré.” He’s talking about his men there, yes, but he’s ALSO talking about himself, emphasizing his own devotion to serving. Which…could go two ways: (1) He’s trying to find common ground with the men, tying into the above, since officers and the men traditionally tended to have icy relations, namely because most officers were too busy partying and taking leave whenever they could and only tended to the regiment when it came to disciplining the men under them or (2) He’s giving himself a sort of twisted pep talk, and even as he’s talking about the men, he’s also talking about HIMSELF. “I’ve never weakened before, I won’t weaken now, I made an oath, this is what I owe the King, these are my orders, this is what I’ll do.”

And, when he says, “Nous devons au pouvoir/La mort et le devoir”…on one hand, that could be describing the relationship his men SHOULD have to him, “We owe to those in power death and duty, therefore you should obey my orders” but it could also just as easily be speaking about himself and his relationship to the monarchy, indicating that he sees himself more or less as an expendable part of a greater machine.

Look at the way he’s looking when he’s cut off at his last “Attention c'est l'ultime…” He knows damn well at this point that it’s going to lead to bloodshed and that he’s going to give the order, and he’s DEFINITELY not thrilled about it. Determined, but not thrilled. But he’s already willed himself into doing it and he’s not going to stop now.

Tl;dr: Laz is working three different groups with this song, which also functions as a masterclass of how he lies to himself as a coping mechanism. He might or might not succeed with 2 of them. He really needs to give less shitty pep talks. Preferably over something besides murder. Also he is totally getting coal in his stocking for the rest of his life. And is going to be sleeping on the couch for a long, long time.

#1789 les amants de la Bastille #there's probably something i missed here #but oh well #lazare de peyrol #europeansdomusicalsbetter #1789 meta

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im-whatchamccallit · 6 years ago

Text

Wicked pt.2//Xu Minghao (Seventeen)

Part 1|Materlist|Request Guidlines

Pairing: Xu Minghao x Reader

Genre: Demon!Au, Fluff)

Warnings: Long and probably grammatically incorrect

Words: 3.3k, holy shit

(A/N: This was super long as, while I was editing, I realized I had over 100 followers so thank you so much! I know people do follower milestone type things but idk what to do so... request are open? Idk. I’m just happy. Thank you!)

You moaned slightly at the feeling of Minghao’s hands on your lower back, kneading at the muscles as you lied face down on your bed, beginning to feel sleepy as his thumbs grazed your skin. He slowly leaned down until his lips were right by your ear, the feeling of his cold breath causing you to turn your head slightly to see him.

“Is this good?” He asked lowly, the only thing you could do was nod slightly.

“Percentage wise, what would it be?”

“One hundred.” You muttered and Minghao shifted excitedly, knowing he was one step closer to finally being free.

“So that means you’re happy?”

“Mhm.”

“So, because you’re happy with this ‘one hundred percent’ massage, it means I’ve made you a hundred percent happy as a boyfriend?”

You tried to hide your chuckle as you let your eyes close, preparing for his soon to come tantrum from your words.

“Because you asked that, I’m only seventy percent happy now.” Minghao moved his hands up your back, telling himself to not flip you over and strangle you but, instead, pinching the back of your neck.

You screamed out and jumped up, glaring at him as he stared furiously at you.

“Now it’s sixty percent, asshole.”

“I’ve been here two weeks-“

“One week.” You corrected him, dragging yourself from your bed and towards your closet to find a new shirt, pulling out a button up shirt that you should save to wear to work but just needed to be covered at the moment.

“I know you’ve been happy this entire time, whether you want to admit it or not. Now you’re just fucking with me!” You turned to him as you finished buttoning the shirt, giving a smug look.

“I’m not fucking with you, Minghao. Just teaching you how to be a decent boyfriend for the next desperate soul that calls for you. By the way, snapping at me like that just dropped you down to forty.”

You let out a loud gasp as your back slammed against your bedroom wall, Minghao’s hand wrapped around your throat as he glared at you with a look that you could only assume was pure hatred. His hand just laid on your neck and, no matter how hard he tried to squeeze, he couldn’t leaving you both in a staring match, neither of you willing to back down.

“You have me where you want me, know what? You’re just not going to kill me? I dare you. I dare you to kill me right now.” You were at the same level as Minghao at this point. He drove you crazy the same way you did him.

The way he’d act out like a sociopath in public to annoy you, no longer following his plans of being the best boyfriend but the worst one possible, it all became so torturous. The past week was a constant battle of petty behavior and rage; rage that he wouldn’t get what he want and rage that you got what you wanted but now you wanted him gone.

He was shocked by your words and how they left your mouth so easily, not a hint of fear or doubt in them. But he only let out a growl before suddenly disappearing in thin air, leaving you against the wall and completely unfazed, learning that he came and left this way all the time, but you still held your anger.

“And that’s how you get to five percent, bitch.” You muttered before exiting the room, the negative energy suddenly suffocating you.

Minghao found himself in his apartment but, as soon as his feet touched the ground, his fist landed into the closest wall, causing the collection of males look to him in shock.

“Still no soul?” One asked condescendingly from the corner of the room where he sat on the ground to play with a small dog.

“I’m starving.” His voice was low as he marched his way to the sofa, placing his head in his hands as the eldest of the bunch sat by him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You do realize you can just take other people’s souls, with or without being summoned.”

“No! I want (Y/N)’s! (Y/N) needs to die first then I’ll do what I want!” Minghao snapped as he glared at the man who was only trying to help before realizing he was in his human form, looking around to see the others just the same.

“Why do you look like this?”

“Chan finally figured out his disguise. We didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.” The youngest member appeared from his room, no longer in his usual, monstrous form but now his disguise for when he chooses to visit the human realm.

Hell was just like living world, just a lot darker with supernatural beings. Everyone bought homes and apartments like humans, everyone drove like humans, and most of them had families and pets like humans. The only difference was that they were immortal, having lived centuries or millenniums, their purpose in life set once they are born, forcing them to work every day of their lives under those orders. And that’s exactly what Minghao and his 12 roommates have been doing, almost all of them demons with different purposes yet managed to get along just enough to live together.

Minghao blandly congratulated him before standing, making his way into the kitchen and finding his laptop on the breakfast bar, the three men not acknowledging him as he opened it and slowly waved his hand across, the background immediately turning to the image of your living room. Minghao knew you were happy but you just refused to admit it to him, so he was going to find out one way or another, even if it made him seem insane. All of them glancing over as they heard talking before the voice peaked their interest all but one of them crowding around to see who he was spying on.

It was you and the goth girl who sold you the book. Her name was Sunny, which was more than ironic, and, despite you laying into her about giving you a book you couldn’t understand which caused you to summon a demon, you two became friends. You invited her over once and she revealed she was fluent in English, Korean, Afrikaans, French, Arabic, and, luckily, Latin, reading about a few other creatures for you to prove herself although you couldn’t truly confirm it but went with it. She was back so you can continue the journey of who not to mistakenly convene.

You both sat on your sofa, her legs folded beneath her as your feet found a home on your table, your eyes scanning the book before stopping at one page.

“This one is Minghao? He’s cute! How could you hate him?”

“Please. He’s a nuisance and the bane of my existence right now. And you said you’re positive there’s no way to get rid of him?”

“Sadly, no. You guys made a deal and, if this books description is right, and he’s persistent, he won’t go away until he has your soul. What was the deal anyways?” You made eye contact with her as a small smirk graced your lips.

“He had to pretend to be my boyfriend and make me one hundred percent happy before he could have my soul.”

“And you aren’t happy?” The boys seemed to watch closely for your answer, Minghao ready to scream with excitement. He finally got you.

“You know what? I am happy, Sunny. Happy to be single, happy to be able to have some time away from that asshole. All I needed was a stupid date for my friend’s wedding, I only added the ‘make me happy while you’re my boyfriend’ part so he couldn’t kill me. I was happy while I was single, now I’m just stuck with a demon that wants me dead as much as I want him gone.”

The confession seemed to shock everyone, all for different reasons. Minghao was a demon with many powers, one being to read emotions. He always thought your anger and sadness was because you were happy but didn’t want him to leave and, despite his hunger for your soul and hatred of having to work this hard to earn it, he liked being around you. Some times when he annoyed you, you’d laugh it off and it made him smile, something he’s never experienced with his other victims. Maybe you’d be happy if he left you alone, he could consume anyone else’s soul anyways, he just didn’t want to leave you.

Sunny, on the other hand, mumbled ‘no’ repeatedly as she flipped through the pages furiously, finding one with a folded edge before turning it to you, practically shoving it into your face.

“These were the ones you were supposed to summon, I probably miscounted the pages.” Your eyes widened at the sight of three gorgeous men. They had strange looks in their eyes, despite the pictures on being drawings but it was so captivating, you just stared as she slowly moved away.

“Who are they?”

“Their names are Seungcheol, Junhui, and Soonyoung. They’re the demons of lust. They could have escorted you to the wedding but-“ Sunny froze as her face grew warm from the words written, making you lean forward in anticipation.

“What?”

“In return for your favor, you’d have to become their concubine for the rest of your life.”

“You tried to pimp me out?” Sunny already braced herself for your outburst, only flinching slightly at your raised voice.

“It’s not that bad! They’re cute and it’s sex for the rest of your life. What’s so bad about that?” You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit her, unbeknownst to you that Soonyoung smirked with a small shrug.

“She’s not wrong.” No one responded as they watched you finally back off from the poor girl, who held the book tightly in spite of your attack, watching as you fell back into your space next to her, holding the pillow close to you.

“Let’s just talk about the ones I need to look out for.” You watched as she flipped the pages, looking between three in particular.

“These three, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan, are pretty much the same. Jeonghan’s the demon of deception, Wonwoo’s the demon of tricks, and Seungkwan is the demon of irony. Basically you ask for something and they give you the exact opposite.” You examined their faces, all attractive which could obviously aid in their mischief, your only reaction was to nod.

“Okay. Who else?”

“Uhm…. There’s Seokmin, the demon of joy.” Your face wrenched in confusion as she held up a finger, knowing you already had questions as she skimmed through the page.

“He doesn’t need to be summoned. He usually shows up, makes you laugh but, once you start, you can’t stop and you eventually drop dead.” With wide eyes, you nodded and sat back, silent as she continued to flip through the pages. You sat straight up as she flipped to Jihoon’s page, a small laugh leaving your mouth as you gawked at his photo, her eyes taking in every word.

“He’s a demon? But he’s so cute. Look at his cheeks!”

“He’s technically a bounty hunter. You can ask him to kill someone for you but only if you have a pint of blood to offer and, since it’ll be hard to stop the bleeding yourself, you may end up bleeding out and dy-“ Sunny stopped when she noticed the horror on your face, no longer finding the adorable male innocent. You could almost feel him smirking knowing he struck fear into you, and he was.

“Anyways, I already know about Hansol and Mingyu. They aren’t summoned and kinda just walk around like regular people but they cause chaos unintentionally, basically like the butterfly effect. Say, if one sneezed, a tornado could happen. This one is named Chan, though, he is the demon of balance. He can basically start trouble or make good things happen.”

As she flipped the page, you held back a gasp. He was an angel, literally. His face was meant to be stoic yet you could find the corners of his lips turning upwards, making yours do the same as his eyes mesmerized you. Nothing that was written on the page seemed to matter to you, just from the way he was drawn, you felt as if he could do no wrong. Sunny was about to move on to the next page before you stopped her, placing your hand on the book to let her know you wanted to know more.

“What kind of demon is he?”

“Joshua? He’s more like a double agent for heaven and hell. He basically dwells in purgatory and judges you to see where you’ll end up. He’s good because purgatory is a place to cleanse the soul but pretty evil with the methods he uses. But it’s all probably bullcrap, especially if he hasn’t been seen on Earth.”

“Is there a way to summon him?” You asked shyly.

“Not unless you die. Wait,” Sunny stared at you, examing your face and grinning wildly as you tried to move away, wanting to hide your steaming hot face.

“I know that look. I’ve had that look before! You see one picture and you’re already in the L-word with him? Really?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shifting so that you were on the other end of your sofa.

“You’re the L-word, and it’s “lunatic.” But, I won’t lie, he is cute.” The simple words were enough to make you both giggle like teenagers at a slumber party, eventually rambling on about him, pulling out your phones to try and find more information about him.

But, by the time you found something, Minghao had already slammed his laptop closed, annoyed by the moment and just glad Joshua wasn’t there to hear it. It was already a slap to the face learning you purposefully sabotaged your deal not because of desperation but spite, it was even worse that you had a crush on someone that would waterboard you with holy water when he had the chance.

A few stray laughs caught his attention.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be jealous of Joshua?”

“A demon falling for a human. Doesn’t that just sound weird?” Minghao tried to ignore the comments before he felt an arm drape over his shoulders, his eyes darting over to see Junhui scowling at the group.

“Leave him alone. He’s probably just upsethe got tricked. Come on, let’s go figure out how to get you that soul.” The pair turned and made their way down the hall.

Once out of earshot, Junhui dragged Minghao into his room, shutting the door and quickly grabbing a box from beneath his bed. He set it onto a nearby desk, rummaging through it while the now

“Listen to me, you can end all of this tonight with this.” He held up a small, cylindrical glass bottle with a red liquid before approaching Minghao, opening his hands and placing it inside, his confused expression meeting Junhui’s serious one.

“It’s just a love potion. Just a small drop is enough to make anyone fall in love with you. When you hear the words, get the soul, and get out of there. If that doesn’t work, just play nice. It’ll take a while but it’ll all work out. Now, go.” Minghao only nodded, unable to fight the logic of a lust demon. Who’d know better than him?

Minghao found himself back in your apartment, his eyes landing on you as you sat on the sofa with take out on the table right next to two bottles of red wine, one empty and one halfway gone. He cleared his throat slightly to catch your attention, your hooded eyes leaving the television to inspect him before a large smile grew on your face.

“Mingming! You’re back!” You were obviously drunk.

He slowly made his way towards you, taking a seat only to have your head rest on his shoulder.

“Did you drink all of this yourself?”

“Yeah. I thought my friend would be here to drink with me but she works weekends so I had to drink alone. Here!” He flinched as you shoved the practically empty wine glass into his face before shyly waving you off.

You scoffed and grabbed the bottle from the table, refilling your glass until it reached the brim and taking a large swig from the bottle, secretly glad he didn’t take up your offer.

You were much different when you were drunk. Sober you was graceful, so in control and grounded, while drunk you was more affectionate and playful, a bit sloppy but had no guard up, no witty remarks or anger, just smiles and love to give. Minghao was starting to rethink his plans but he knew once you sobered up, you would go back to hating him, go back to dragging out your arrangement for the sake of his pain, even if it meant you’d be unhappy forever.

He looked at you as you rambled on about the movie playing, wholeheartedly expressing your love for the protagonist while he quickly opened the vessel, pouring it in before hiding the bottle in his pocket. You brought the glass up to your lips, downing the half full glass in only a few gulps before placing it on the table and turning to Minghao. He watched as your eyes widened, your face dipping closer to his as your hand moved up to graze his cheek. Now was a better time than anything to see if it worked.

“Do I make you happy?”

“Of course you do!” He was so close yet so far. All he needed was for you to say the exact words.

“Do I make you a hundred percent happy?” There was a slight pause before you moved back, your smile never falling as you looked away at the television, staring at the couple bonding over their dogs playing.

“I had a dog that made me happy. He ran away but came back, right after we got a new dog! They became best friends after that!” Maybe it needed time to kick in? There’s no way Junhui, a lust demon who only acted upon and initiated his passions when summoned by willing participants, could screw up a love potion he never had to use. Right?

So, Minghao stuck to his plan to wait for the potion to kick in. An hour passed, then two, both filled with you rambling on excitedly about life and your dreams, your head in his lap as you were slowly starting to fall asleep. The constant bickering between you two, the arguing and insults, all of it left his memory as he took mental pictures of you smiling tonight. Not the usual bitter smile you gave him when you acted maliciously but a genuine one, like the one you had at the start of your friend’s wedding and during the late night talks you had while trying to learn about one another. His backup plan would take days, maybe weeks, to execute and succeed but it seemed more enjoyable than this.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” Minghao slowly sat you up before helping you stand, your body light as you could barely stand on your own, falling into his chest.

You let him lead you out of the living room and down the hall to the large bedroom, everything left in the same condition as when he was there before. Your feet dragged along the floor as he brought you to your bed, setting you down with small huff before adjusting you so that your body was completely on the bed.

“Good night, (Y/N).”

“What? No. You can stay.” The invite was softly spoken as you were already falling into slumber, your eyes shut as you were shifting between consciousness and dreaming.

The offer was sweet but he knew it was just the alcohol talking, your attitude and mind would be back to normal by the morning anyways. Minghao just smiled and moved to pull the blanket above you.

“Good night.”

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