#or if my idea is fairy tale + other idea you just show enough detail to get the idea across and don't have to dive any deeper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deandoesthingstome · 1 year ago

Text

Labyrinth Fantasy

Pairing: Minotaur!Sy x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. You now know it's for real and you need more.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (standing and reverse standing cowgirl), monster fucking (right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You'd recounted enough of the details to convince your online benefactors that the investment was worth it, but kept enough to yourself to make the experience truly special.

Like, you didn't mention the time stretch at all. Though you had been wondering why the hotel even offered longer booking sessions if the hosts could just snap a finger and keep you satisfied forever. You felt only mild guilt about keeping the image of naked human Walter to yourself. They didn't need to know how good he looked NOT as a monster. You were keeping that for you own private thoughts. But you were bemoaning your current funding situation.

sendmeanangel: ugh, I'm never getting back there!!! MNstrluvr: Listen. There's a way. sendmeanangel: how? I can't get any more shifts at the restaurant. MNstrluvr: let us open a Patreon for you sendmeanangel: I'm NOT giving a recount of this event to total strangers darkgothnightengale: you have no idea who we are sendmeanangel: you are NOT total strangers. I know your favorite coffee and what you're studying at uni and your top 10 comfort movies. I know how you got that scar on your hand. darkgothnightengale: yeah but you didn't know that until you asked. Up to then we were total strangers who loved your work. Just like everyone on Patreon will be only they'll be paying MNstrluvr: yeah and you don't have to tell it to them like you told us. Put a different spin on it. Don't make the story from the perspective of the hotel. Make it a true fairy tale. Red riding hood in the woods and shit. Make him your boyfriend, The Woodsman, who's ready to show you his secret this fine full moon evening. sendmeanangel: oh my goddddddd!!! darkgothnightengale: yeah, but put all the most important details of him in Sendmeanangel: you just want to read about his massive cock splitting you open again darkgothnightengale: i have my needs. Besides, I just mean those details you only know now because you experienced it. You have something to draw from, something to make it real for everyone MNstrluvr: seriously, meana, do it. You will make so much money. You should have been putting your other stories out there long ago but this you can post and sell cause it'll be completely your own content with no re-imagining of existing characters sendmeanangel: okay, but you gotta beta the shit out of this for me. I can't have it sounding like I'm just recounting the whole thing from last night's fuck session with my partner MNstrluvr: 😆 🤣 😂 😹 darkgothnightengale: oh my goddddddd!!!! MNstrluvr: anyway we already created an account. We'll add your email and send you the password reset so you can run it and transfer the money to your bank whenever darkgothnightengale: and as always, no pressure on timing other than knowing you need the money to get back to Walter but I can't wait to read this! sendmeanangel: what if he's not available?

As you clicked Reserve something caught in the back of your mind.

Would Walter care you weren't coming back to see him?

How could he? You spent two hours (or was it more? You could never figure out the time swap calculations) together. You weren't even sure if that was his real name. Sure, you fantasized about him when you got home. You'd been in a fog of post-orgasmic bliss when you saw him in his human form, but that didn't stop you from cataloging every inch you could. Imagining snuggling next to his enormous and furry body wasn't hard.

It was this domestic bliss scene you'd eventually settled on as the opening to your "boyfriend's werewolf confession during an evening walk in the woods" fic that you posted on Patreon. The feedback had been a dream come true.

While the income wasn't as plentiful as you'd hoped, the wages and tips from your extra shifts allowed you to book another stay the following month. Walter was indeed not available on your only open day of the week so you sought out another option and found a four hour time slot with a new-to-you creature.

The listing called him Captain of the Guard.

Something about this fantasy made you select the box at check in specifically requesting your host enter in form. You had missed this at your previous visit, and as you thought back to meeting Walter, you appreciated the gentle way he eased into the scene. But you wanted a little more…mystery? Suspense? apprehension this time. The front desk clerk told you your host's name was Sy, and sent you down to a lower level of the hotel. The only key he provided was the code you punched into the elevator number pad to allow you to press L3.

When the doors opened, you entered a small, rustic room with a hard dirt ground and cool stone walls. You only saw one other door besides the elevator you just stepped through and your mind did some mental gymnastics. Was that the exit to the maze or a bathroom? If it was the bathroom, where was the maze?

A few benches were scattered around and sitting on one was the Offering Tray you purchased, along with a note telling you to dress or undress to your level of comfort and step out into the hall through the door opposite the elevator when you were ready. Okay, door to maze then. But your nervous pee sensation was building. Where was the bathroom???

You knew the elevator was locked after you exited the car, but the note also contained the return code you were welcome to use any time, even before your reservation was over. And the note also revealed the secret to locating the washroom around the corner of one of the walls that you now noticed didn’t quite reach the next wall, causing a little optical illusion that the room was a simple square with no other space. Clever. It reminded you of a scene from a fantasy movie you’d seen when you were younger.

You peed and then undressed for a quick rinse in the surprisingly warm shower. You had imagined the temperature of the liquid streaming over the mini waterfall in this rock room would be ice cold, but it was as if the water was heated to a constant, perfect temperature from a thermal spring. The floors were warm on your bare feet too. You almost had to tear yourself away. There was a fantasy to be had.

You hung your street clothes on the garment hooks and pulled your red cape from your bag. You had researched a few different costume options and came across a clever way to fashion a toga of sorts from the material, albeit a slutty red toga with a giant slit up one thigh. You didn’t bother with underwear this time either. After one last look in the mirror to make sure your nerves weren’t showing too badly, you gathered up the offering of cured meat and stepped into the hall.

The rough hewn stone walls were at least three feet higher than the room you’d just exited. You noticed shelves jutting out occasionally at various heights and made a mental note not to run into them. Not that you planned on running. The ground was soft and sandy, rather than hard packed earth. Even in bare feet, this was going to make running hard. Again, not that you’d planned on running.

Now, which direction? Left was always your gut instinct so you followed the path in that direction, choosing a left turn anytime you came to an intersection. After dead-ending twice in about five minutes, you began to rethink your approach. While you figured it had be wise to build in some extra time to find your treasure, you didn’t want to spend four hours in a fucking maze alone.

As soon as you made the next right, the air shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention and a ripple of goosebumps grew up on both arms. You made a few more turns before you began to hear snorts and huffs in the distance. For a moment, you froze, unsure if you wanted to move toward or away from the beast. Not because you didn’t want to meet the beast. But only because you truly couldn’t decide how. Sneak up and surprise him? Or let him chase you?

A new roar announced he was getting closer and you made a snap decision to turn away. Let him find me.

You maybe delayed the introduction by a few minutes. He was adept and clearly knew this maze inside and out while you were still trying to find your footing. You were just about to turn a corner that looked surprisingly familiar when you felt a rumble and the sand shift beneath your feet before you heard a snort and few stamps on the ground.

“Turn around.” Though a command, it came out like a question and you knew this was yet another opportunity for you to provide your consent to the game. Keep walking forward and it would all be over. As a matter of fact, you were convinced your next step forward would take you to the hall where the door to your changing room was. Your turn was deliberate. So was the flash as the cape swished around your legs and settled back into place. Give him a show, you smiled inwardly to yourself, before you wiped that grin right off the face in your mind and dropped your jaw instead.

Before you stood a monster of a man/beast, which explained the rumbling of the ground. You noticed the hooves which explained the stamping sound. As you drew your eyes up his solid and thick legs, you were a little disappointed to see he was wearing a heavy pleated leather skirt which hid any hint of what might be hanging underneath. His biceps bulged and thick veins trailed down each forearm. His chest was broad and teeming with unbridled strength, bare and full of the fur you were hoping to find.

Walter wasn’t the first hairy man you’d been with, but he definitely made you appreciate it more and this beast sported a similar amount. As your gaze met his, you took in the visage of a bull’s head, noticing the ring you expected to see in his nose was not there, but the horns near his ears were. They were massive as well and you had plans.

“Who dares enter my labyrinth?” he demanded as he sauntered ever closer to you. “What little bird has been flitting through these halls?”

You gave your name as you held out the tray in front of you, but he simply stood before you, motionless, save his eyes which roamed over every inch of you. When he returned his gaze to yours, he cocked his head to one side.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he roared, obviously unsatisfied with the tray of meat. Did the hotel make a mistake? “Maybe you’re playing a game with me? Is that it? Interrupt my peaceful solitude and taunt me with a delectable offering only to hide it behind a curtain of fabric and an offensive tray of inferior flesh?”

“I … I didn’t know… I didn’t think…” you stammered. Your heart was beating furiously, though he hadn’t taken another step toward you and you weren’t exactly trapped. You were more convinced than ever that if you wanted to escape, the entry room and the elevator were just around the corner. He was giving you time to acclimate to your decision to stay, making sure you weren’t having second thoughts. Though he commanded this hall in this maze, he was letting you call the next shot and you knew you were in no danger. Well, none that you didn’t want.

You set the tray on a ledge nearby, and grabbed fistfuls of your robe in both hands, lifting the material enough to give you the feeling of freedom around your lower legs. Just in case. Not that you were planning on running.

“In this labyrinth, the offerings are usually a little more respectful. Would you like to try your offering again?” Something about his words, the way he cocked his head again, the subtle pawing at the ground, as if he was about to rear up. He wanted you to.

You licked your lips, and nodded. Took one more beat. Then turned and ran. Past the door to the changing room, up the hall to the right, left down the next corridor, then right again. Left. Left. Left. Right. For a moment you imagined he wasn’t right on your tail and then you hit a dead end and he descended on you as you turned to try to escape the hall thinking you might have enough time to head in another direction. Well, around you really. His arms caged you against the wall behind you.

He was so close. His musk was intoxicating and the scent added a little more fuel to the fire already burning in your loins. You peered up into his eyes, which you now noticed weren’t jet black, but rather a deep, dark azure.

“That’s better,” he chuckled. “The offering is always sweeter after a little vigorous activity.”

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke. "I had no idea the offering I was given wouldn't be to your satisfaction. I should have anticipated better for a creature who commands such obedience and reverence as you."

“The tray isn’t the offering, little bird,” he huffed near your ear as you felt a hand drop from the wall beside you to your shoulder and then down to the pivotal point on your costume. One little tug, and, yep, there it went. The makeshift dressing had held up surprisingly well on the chase, but it was designed to come off easily and that it did. He made an approving sound, tracing a finger over one breast and down the valley between both, nearing your apex before he dragged the back of that hand up your belly and around your waist, ending with a firm grip on the meat of your hips.

“What…what is the offering?” you asked, with feigned timidity, as if you didn’t know what he meant. His arms moved to circle your waist and his hands slid to the creases beneath both now bare cheeks.

"I'll take this peach instead," he snorted with what you perceived to be a wink and a grin. He jiggled the flesh of your ass and grinned wider as he caught the moan of pleasure you tried to suppress. "You don’t need to fight it little bird. This is why you're here. To let go of inhibitions and feel free to express your feelings and desires with no judgment. If you like someone paying attention to this luscious cake, you shouldn't have to feel like you have to hide it."

The exchange felt a little out of character for the scene, but you didn’t mind. The chase was fun, but it was going to be even better finding out how this man would take care of your needs. So you let him know.

"Fuck. It feels good to have you touch it. Most men just go straight for the pussy and ignore the pleasure I get from the tease, the idea of you..." you trailed off, uncertain if you wanted to broach that subject here.

"Oh, it's just an idea, huh? Nothing you want to try? Isn't that why you're here?"

You thought about Walter and wondered if Sy was as well endowed under the fabric covering his loins. Surely the beasts at this hotel were all inordinately adept at providing pleasure; that was after all the entire theme. And maybe there were other ways to pleasure a person, and maybe this hotel had them too, but you couldn’t begin to imagine that the size of Sy’s cock wasn’t proportionate to his stature. You weren't quite ready to feel that in your ass.

"It's alright, little bird. We're here for whatever you'd like,” he answered without you even saying a word.

“Can I call you Sy?” you asked, unsure how committed to the bit he’d be.

“Of course, darlin’.” That was an odd Texas drawl that had just overridden the previous enigmatic accent you assumed was meant to convey ancient Greece. He kept the twang when he saw your surprised eyebrow quirk. “We can take this play anywhere you want to go. Though I’m going to make one choice for us.”

He bent to scoop you into his arms, cradling your legs and back as he held you against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding and wondered if he could feel yours, too. You took some slow deep breaths to try to calm yourself.

For a brief moment, you nestled your head against his neck, relishing the feel of the fur against your cheek. Then you turned your head to pay attention to where he was taking you. You figured you would need to make your way out of this maze alone after being well and thoroughly fucked and somehow you imagined you'd still have enough brain cells to remember the path he was taking.

But Sy wasn’t going backwards to any open hall. Instead he was making his way directly into what you took for a dead end. Before he crushed you against the wall, as you were sure he was about to do, Sy stepped through the wall. Sort of. Through another optical illusion that proved the dead end was actually a T intersection.

Sy took the left branch and in a few short strides, you found yourself in a room filled oddly with accouterments of pleasure. A platform bed covered in softness in the middle of the space was an inviting contrast to the sandstone walls you'd acclimated to. In a few spaces, what appeared to be fur rugs hung against the walls. Straight ahead, covered in dozens of warm glowing candles illuminating the room along with hanging oil lamp pendants, sat a wooden altar. Bowls draped with mounds of luscious looking fruit and plates of cured meats and cheeses were nestled in between the candle holders.

As you looked around, you noticed no other entrance to the room, though you kept missing the non-obvious openings, so who knew? The markings on the wall and other accompanying furnishings led you to believe you were not just in some other hall of the maze. You were now in Sy's sanctuary. You’d found, or rather Sy was going to show you, the treasure at the middle of the maze.

Sy set you on your feet and stepped back, as if judging your temperature again.

“Is this where I meet my fate, then?” you asked, with a shy smile.

“You’ll die a thousand little deaths in here,” he promised, returning to the previous accent, and you noticed now a tail swishing behind him. You hadn’t seen that before, but it seemed…excited.

“Sounds amazing.”

With that he rushed you as if you still held the red cape as a target. In what felt like one fell swoop, he bent to capture your hips and swing you forward over his shoulder as he turned and took a few steps toward a fur-lined spot along a wall and none of those movements jostled or startled you. It was as if he was picking up a piece of cloth, the ease with which he maneuvered you and held you stable so nothing hurt. Not his fingers in your hips, not your hips over his shoulder, not your back as he held you captive, pressed against the wall of the hidden sanctuary.

“Walter said you smelled delicious and tasted even better,” Sy huffed with hunger.

Did they talk amongst one another? That hardly seemed ethical. And yet, you’d gossipped and dished about this place and the man you’d met previously. Why would you assume he wouldn’t do the same?

“So that’s the first thing we’ll take care of here,” he continued as he dug his massive thigh into the moist heat between your legs and huffed breath onto your neck. His hands traced the length of your body, down both sides, over your belly, onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

In a heartbeat, he had you off the ground, legs spread wide as he continued to trap you against the wall. You tried to hold onto his beefy shoulders for stability, but soon realized he wasn't done lifting you up as you lost purchase.

You were sure you'd be tumbling forward onto the sandy ground in front of you as soon as you cleared another foot of his body, but somehow you remained upright. Well, ‘somehow’ was known but you were still amazed at the raw strength and power Sy possessed to hold you aloft and continue to elevate your body.

With one final shrug, he had your naked form where he wanted it. Legs over shoulders and pussy right at his face waiting to be devoured. You'd had men, including Walter, in between your legs before. A few times when you were upright, and that always put a nice checkmark next to their names in your book. But never while hoisted six feet in the air.

The thick swath of muscle that ascended through your folds filled you with a warmth you had been craving for weeks. Sy somehow managed to manipulate the shape as well, so that he alternated between targeted tight circles with a tip and wide saliva drenched passes that were soon mingling with your own juices.

You had the distinct impression that the wall behind you was for your benefit only. A way to make you more comfortable and secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't let you fall while he was feasting at the altar of your thighs. That he had the ability to hold you upright all on his own while he ate you out.

He made you come at least three times with your back arched against the wall and crying out for relief as you pressed into his head to hold yourself steady, even while he supported you with a hand cradling your ass and another secure against your side. You had wanted to grab his horns, but something told you to stop and wait until you could ask permission. It didn’t seem polite to just grab at them without warning.

“Please, Sy. Please fuck me now,” you pleaded and he skillfully obliged, though he took his sweet time getting there.

He took a few more licks, sucking in the moisture dripping from your pussy before he began to ease your legs off his shoulders, down his body, and around his waist. He settled you there while he reached back to unhook his skirt and drop it to the ground. Then he knelt, still holding you against the wall, and shifted your legs down to rest on his thighs. This gave you an opportunity to peek down and see what he was working with, and not that you were at all surprised but it was still a bit of shock.

A strap of leather remained wrapped around his waist, traveling down both sides of his Orion's belt with the ends connected to a ring that sat stuffed behind his cock. While you contemplated just how long it would let him last, he worked an especially large condom onto his massive member, drifting a knuckle through your folds at every opportunity, given the proximity. He grunted and grinned each time you rolled your hips against his fingers, eagerly seeking more pressure, more depth, more everything.

“Patience, little bird. We’ll get there soon enough,” he warned as he finished affixing the rubber. You watched rapt as he held himself firm in one hand, tugging with the same languid pace he also used to trail his fingers from the other hand around your entrance, flicking at the hidden pearl up top and pressing his thumb deep inside you. It was killing you, but this was not one of the little deaths he had promised and you contemplated telling him so.

As if he could tell just how impatient you were becoming, he finally spread your puffy lips wide and began to nudge the tip of his cock at your soaking entrance. A gasp was all you could manage as he moved to standing at the same time, easing your legs back up around his waist again.

Sy moved into you inch by glorious inch, pausing every so often to make sure you were comfortable. It was certainly not something you were accustomed to, but the feeling was familiar and you knew now he was at least as large as Walter. This was going to be fun. When he was almost seated you asked.

“Sy?”

“Yes, little bird?”

“May I touch them? Hold … hold onto them?”

“Yes, little bird, you may.”

You used the leverage of your grip to drive your hips down the rest of the way onto his colossal cock and willed your inner walls to ease around him. A heat filled you, a desire to grind against him, but he stilled you. Made you sit with the enormity of the situation for a moment while he palmed a breast, rolled a nipple.

“Please, Sy, please. I want you to move. I want you to fuck me into this wall. Please.”

He didn’t make you beg another time. He was slamming into you and somehow rotating his hips in such a way that you felt him in every muscle and nerve in your body. It felt electric and vibrant and you wanted to explode. Sy let you. Fucked you right through it and into the midst of a second one before you could open your eyes again.

You were grinding against him, pulling your body up and pushing back down using his horns to guide you and you were coming hard around him again. His laugh was infectious and you let one out with the third little death in this position.

Suddenly, he spun you away from the wall. For a moment you thought he was heading for the bed, but he lifted you off his cock, then turned you around. He held you against his chest with one arm around your waist as his other hand guided his throbbing member into you once again.

You threw your arms behind you to grasp at his neck as if you needed to somehow participate in keeping yourself steady against him, but he could handle you all on his own. He had your legs splayed wide, an arm under each knee, and he drove up into you as if it was nothing. And while you didn’t need to, you absolutely wanted to slip your hands up a little higher, off his neck, over the back of his head and right back onto those epic horns.

You smoothed your fingers over the bone, into the curl, and held on. It could have been your imagination, but his grunts and snorts seemed to magnify as you did so. Maybe he really liked it? Before you had a chance to consider dragging your fingers along the form again, he hit you with another deep wave of pleasure that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you slumped against him.

And it was like he knew how much more you had in you, because he just kept fucking you right back into consciousness, at which point you did gather your wits and give his horns a few more sensual strokes. It was his groan that told you he was close and you were helping him along. It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming hard around his dick and it seemed like he was letting loose with a roar, too.

He eased his phallus out of your sweaty, quivering body and moved forward to deposit you on the bed, admonishing you to stay put before he disappeared behind another secret wall. You heard water rushing and the sound began to lull you into a light sleep that only the warm, wet cloth pulled you out of.

“Don’t open your eyes just yet,” he spoke, his voice a little less gruff than before.

“I was promised a thousand little deaths,” you teased, unable to move your eyelids or anything else for that matter. His laughter lifted your heart.

“Oh, you want more? Looks like you’d scatter in the wind like a dandelion if I put my cock in you one more time.”

“I wish you weren’t right,” you joined him with a light laugh of your own. “Maybe if I could get a little nap…”

“Unfortunately, time has been flyin’ while we’ve been having fun. Don’t think you’ve got enough left for that.”

You peeled your eyes open, curious about his statement. You hadn’t meant to imply he should give you more time and you were embarrassed that he might think you were being pushy, demanding. You were not prepared for the sight of the man in front of you.

Where Walter’s shift had given him just a little extra height and bulk, not that he needed it to maneuver you around the room, Sy’s return to human form was dramatic. And not that he wasn’t massive in his own right, but the size of the beast that had just fucked you senseless was even more apparent comparatively. You could see he was solid, tree trunks for thighs and branches for arms. His shoulders were wide, chest broad. All the things you’d noticed of the bull, but just scaled down. And still incredibly daunting.

“S’okay I shifted back?” he asked with concern.

“Of course, whatever you… I mean, this is all so new to me. I have no idea what’s allowed. And how much time…” Was what you were thinking about within bounds? “Has it really only been almost four hours? How much time is left? I think I assumed…”

Sy gave another chuckle as you trailed off.

“Yeah, he musta really liked you from the get go.” At your quizzical gaze, Sy continued. “We don’t all have that gift. Walt’s one of the few. And he uses it sparingly. It’s not really a sanctioned hotel offering. If everyone could and did, we’d get nothing but two-hour bookings.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I hope that didn’t sound like I was demanding any special treatment or anything.”

“You honestly still don’t look like you have enough strength left to demand a deep breath,” Sy teased. “Here, lemme give you a hand. We’ll get you cleaned up for real.”

He scooped you off the bed and carried you into the bathroom, outfitted similarly to the entry room. He placed you gently under the warm, rushing waterfall before sudsing you up with a shower gel that smelled surprisingly like something you already owned. You watched as his hands slid over your body, easing the soap down your legs and guiding the water to rinse you off.

“Sy,” you began, wondering if you should even bring it up, but as he stood to grab a towel for you, the shape you thought you’d seen as he washed you was even more apparent. “Is it allowed? Do we have time … Can I…help you with this?”

You reached for him, circling a hand around his obvious erection and tugging gently. His eyes closed slowly as he dropped his head back with a deep sigh, before he wrapped his arms around you and drew you to him. He put a palm against your cheek and tilted your head to train his beautiful blue eyes on yours as he spoke.

“It’s technically not allowed.” Your heart sank at his words. “But Imma make it good for you one last time anyway.”

You let the towel drop to the floor as he lifted you to move back out to the bed. He set you down and you watched him climb onto the mattress, expecting him to grab a condom and crawl over you, or flip you over. When he settled himself between your legs, it wasn’t his cock that penetrated you. Sy put his mouth over your pussy again and the moan that escaped his throat had enough vibration you were sure you could come from that alone.

He was better. He was unbelievably better than Walter at this. It wasn’t something you were particularly proud to be thinking, but truth was where you found it and this was the truth. Sy was skilled and all the tricks he used in Minotaur form, he used here as well. You were squirming within moments, grinding up into his face and grabbing onto his freshly shaved head to help keep him where he’d do the most damage in the quickest amount of time. Not that he needed your help, because he was fucking good at this. He knew how to use his tongue and lips and, yes, teeth, gently, and yes fingers, deep and deft. And if you weren’t mistaken, he was squirming, too.

You could see his ass wiggling and humping into the bed and if you weren’t losing your own damn mind you’d have noticed his hips stuttering as he came into the mattress right around the time his fingers landed back on the spot that, in combination with the movement of his tongue, had you screaming his name.

He let you linger in bed a moment, catching your breath while he slipped on a pair of white, slouchy linen pants before he held out his hand to help you off the bed.

“Here,” he pulled the sheet around you with a soft chuckle and a grin. “This’ll be more comfortable than traipsing back to the elevator naked. I’ll show you the way.”

Sy led you back to the entry room, stopping along the way for a small detour to find your discarded cloak down the dead end hall. You swapped material with him as he deposited you outside the changing room and wished you a wonderful day.

“Come back and see us again, sometime. It was a pleasure,” he tilted his head at you as you stepped backwards into the room.

“The pleasure was all mine,” you replied.

“Don’t be too sure about that, now.”

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #syverson #minotaur!syverson #minotaur!syverson x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #labyrinth fantasy #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #mine #deandoesthingstome

405 notes · View notes

eri-pl · 4 months ago

Note

Forgive me for asking, but when you say you like Morgoth do you mean you find him an entertaining character or that you think he had a point?

Oh. This will be long. Thank you for asking! (And I guess the parts that you feel needs forgiving is assuming that I may agree with him? I don't think you had enough data. Anyway if there's a need, I forgive you. I hope it's not "forgive me for sending asks", I like getting asks, especially actual asks! (As opposed to reblog chains and other random fun stuff which I sometimes like sometimes not))

No, Morgoth did not have a valid point in his rebellion. More details under the cut (it's long).

But he had a point, in the sense that he existed for a reason. (He much failed this point.) I think it shows through at times. Even if he wasn't evil, I think he was meant to be a trickster, challenger and the starting point of changes.

Like, I can see a situation where stealing the Silmarils would not be wrong (and not involve murder. It is far from canon, but if Feanor got obsessed with them without Melkor's "help", stealing the gems and leaving them in some funny place could be helpful. The classic fairy tale trickster.

So, in this sense he had a point.

But his actual goals as started in the book? Nope. 100% nope.

Like, yesterday I had my own teenage child look at me strangely when I said that I relate to Hurin's reaction. Not with the name-calling, but the "nope you are not as powerful as you say, this is not true and I don't care what you do to me about it" part. It is the valid reaction, in my opinion. L

But there's more in my liking for Morgoth than "I find him entertaining" (however this is true too at some points, mostly BoLT).

It's mostly "he's spawning a lot of headcanons in my head and I relate to them". It's a difference between "Morgoth as Tolkien seems to have intended him" and "Morgoth as I read him", which is a small difference in a way, but also a big one.

Ok let's address the elephant. I have no problem internalizing "Eru is God". But at the same time I have a lot of a problem internalizing "and Melkor is the devil".

This is a strange combo but that's what my brain does and I can't much avoid it.

His reasons are too relatable. Wrong but relatable. Very human. "I was not paying attention, busy with fantasies of power to soothe my insecurities and now when I have to do a creative activity with people, I can't sync with them" is a very relatable situation to me (I played a lot of ttrpg) and trying to fix it by being a jerk is something I have done. It's wrong but... I can't condemn a character for things I have done too.

(I realized I started explaining me reading of Melkor|Morgoth through his whole career, so here it goes)

And then he gets angry, which is stupid but still relatable. And makes orcs from elves which is awful but also canon cannot decide what exactly happened also it's too easy to assume he didn't realize they were actual persons...

And he corrupts humans? The tale of Adanel? What was her name? That one in Morgoth's ring, close to Athrabeth... It's one of 2 places where he actually reads (for me) as satanic as intended... Until the part where am obvious void-spider-related trauma shows. Which makes no sense in the timeline, but the whole story has huge timeline problems.

Then he gets captured. And again, my angst-living narrative brain assumes that he did try to behave better, just didn't put much effort in it. And then he met Feanor, and I have a while essay on how this triggered Melkor's narcissistic injury or whatever to call the issues he had. Not for Feanor's fault, just... Wrong time, wrong place, wrong family drama.

Yes, his reaction to that was unarguably evil. But also I can't stop myself from imagining extremely strong emotional pain behind it. It's like... I can't force myself to be so angry at him to enjoy the idea of "Morgoth's gonna get destroyed, yay!". There's too much pain on this (which is not in the book just in my head, I know)

He streaks the Silmarils, and keeps them when though they burn, because to do otherwise would be a period that he was wrong. And all his further decisions (again, unarguably evil) are made under extreme pain and distress of holy gems judging him all the time. (Look how they impacted Maedhros and Maglor. How much despair they got. And Morgoth is so much more).

He's evil, but also I can't with confidence say that I would never do similar things, especially in the circumstances. Evil but who am I to judge.

Like, at the end of of, it comes back to "I can't see the Valar ( including Melkor) as 100% good or bad, they're too human to be proper angels". Even Manwe (semi-)canonically makes a moral mistake. Some texts (not in published Silm) day that the Valar showed lack of estel by (making Valinor? Inviting elves? Sorry, I forgot the details) and that is a moral falling.

Don't get me wrong, it is a very small one, and I'm not trying to equate Manwe with Morgoth or anything, just to say that the Valar are less absolute than I would expect angels to be. (Not an expert on angels though)

(I love Manwe, he's wonderful, overworked, burned out but still trying, he's a sweet, good, idealistic birb. Who is not an angel. I love them all, even Orome who is canonically vengeful and I consider this a problem, and Yavanna who is really irritating at times. And let's not forget poor, bullied Aule who is a walking proof of the "not 100%".)

And with all that I've said before, I can't help but to project many of my issues and character failings at Morgoth. Yes, he's evil. I've also been evil. Technically less so, but I like to go things to 11 when projecting.

And another huge topic is how wonderful he would be if he wasn't evil, because he's got some of my favorite aesthetics and themes (void, paradoxes, out of the box thinking, trickster archetype, jak of all trades... Even the fire and ice thing has its beauty).

Sometimes I really want to punch him in the face for wasting all that. Just, not lethally.

And the beauty of what he could be is probably what pushes him in my head from the "I'm sorry for them being evil" category of evil and evil-leaning characters (which includes Sauron, fir example ) or the "eeewgh but I'm sorry for them anyway" (Ar-Pharazon , Gollum, all the exceptionally uncool bad guys) to "I'm sorry for them but also I like them no matter how little sense it makes". Ymmv, I have a strange aesthetics sometimes.

Also, he got defeated in the book and that gives him compassion points in my brain. I do feel sorry for him. No matter what I try to do with my brain, I can't stop. I just can't. One day I'll figure out how to untangle it but now I don't know.

Last but not least, I love some comedic takes. For me, comedy didn't ask what's right or wrong, just explores ideas... It's like a brain cleaner, a bit like dreams. It's allowed more than more serious genres. I do enjoy comedic Morgoth (Hurinovy Deti does it really well, also some fics and comics with that one ship... It's just funny. And it's not like they portray him as being right, just... Don't focus on him being evil, just in the comedy?)

To clear something that I left hanging: the second scene where Morgoth is as-probably-intended is "the words of Morgoth and Hurin" or what's it called. Sorry, I'm on vacations, so I'm doing less fact-checking. It works for me. If Tolkien gave Morgoth more dialogue, my mental image of him would probably be more as intended.

Also, to not leave it unsaid: he canonically tries rape, I think twice. I am aware of this. This is very awful. And evil. Still, doesn't make me see him as irredeemable. I just don't see people as irredeemable and I can't read the books as (probably?) intended and not see Morgoth and all the Valar in the category of "people".

It's probably more complicated by the fact that Tolkien's intent did change in time, but I'm not an expert and I don't know how it changed about the Valar, especially Morgoth. So it's not like there is one canon that is 100% coherent, and I'm not even sure which parts of my reading I should call a headcanon and which not.

Tldr: I don't like Satan (that was an understatement), I like Morgoth probably because I have issues which I like projecting on fictional characters and he works well for that, also I make some (hopefully) interesting headcanons and that's it. Hope this answered your question.

#silm #silmarillion #tolkien legendarium #the silmarillion #the silm #melkor #morgoth #asks #long #and personal?#tolkien meta #silm hc #silm headcanons

20 notes · View notes

adarkrainbow · 1 year ago

Text

Aulnoy's famous fairytales: The White Doe (2)

Now that we made a recap for the overall story, let's look at little details here and there, shall we?

1 ) Despite this being one of the most famous and reprinted fairytales of d'Aulnoy, The White Doe/The Hind in the Woods is one of the more dated of these stories. Not just because of the problematic racist elements of "princess Black of Ethiopia", but also because this story was clearly written in honor and reference to the king of the tme, Louis 14. When the fairies create a palace for princess Desired to live into until her fifteenth birthday, and have inside of it the whole history of the world depicted by art pieces, d'Aulnoy breaks her narration to describe in a poem form the "greatest and most brilliant warrior king of History", who is not named but is very clearly Louis XIV. Earlier, when the queen visited the six fairies' palace, the fairies told her that to build it they hired "the architect of the Sun", who basically recreated "the Sun's palace" but in smaller proportions. This is an obvious reference to Versailles, the wonderful castle of the "Sun-King", Louis 14. And if this wasn't enough, there are also several explicit comparisons to an actual historical event contemporary to the story: a royal wedding. Several times throughout the narration, d'Aulnoy says that the beautiful clothes or gorgeous outfits of Desired are identical with or "right behind in term of beauty" to the outfits and jewels worn at a "certain princess" wedding. These are all comparisons made to a certain woman named Marie-Adélaïde de Savoie, who had just married the duke of Bourgogne, aka... Louis XIV's grandchild.

All of this makes the story feel very NOT "intemporal" since, if you don't have the historical context, all those moments seem a bit weird and mysterious. And yet, this fairytale stayed one of d'Aulnoy's most popular ones... My guess is that what seduced people in this story was the imagery it brought rather than the story or writing itself. People's mind and imagination were struck by the supernatural white doe a prince cannot capture, by the visual of this monstrous crayfish terrorizing a queen and fairies by cursing a baby, by the idea of a beautiful girl doomed to live in the dark until her fifteenth birthday...

In fact, the way madame d'Aulnoy writes this tale to celebrate the royal wedding might explain why the main protagonist here, Desired, has such a young age - barely fifteen. Because Marie-Adélaïde de Savoie, upon being wed to Louis XIV's grandchild, was only twelve... [Note however that madame d'Aulnoy did not condone or enjoyed at all child-weddings of this sort - she herself had suffered from an atrocious arranged wedding in her very early life, and this ended up in a complicated business of manipulations, false accusations, exiles and murders - but when you live in 17th century France, you better be a propagandist of the king, especially if you are a woman who tries to write fiction.]

2 ) The beginning of the fairytale is obviously to put in parallel with Perrault's Sleeping Beauty. Same "gift-giving christening by the fairies" scene, the same way the older and more powerful of the fairies arrives to curse the babe only to have her curse "eased" by the others, the list of gifts offered by the fairies being quite similar to the one of the Sleeping Beauty fairies - more explicitely, in the beginning of Sleeping Beauty it was explicitely said the queen visited/tried several miraculous/healing waters to try to have a baby - which is what the queen does in the beginning of this tale, except here it becomes the start of the plot.

3 ) While there is still the manichean divide typical of French literary fairytales of "good fairy and wicked fairy", here d'Aulnoy plays deliberately on the fairies ambiguity, to show that despite acting by a binary pattern, fairies stay a "gray" set of beings. For example, the Fairy of the Fountain or Crayfish Fairy, despite being one of the main antagonists, starts out in the story as a helper and a benevolent force - and in a twist, still does fulfill her role of "good fairy godmother"... but she does so to the princess Black, who is an unwilling/accidental antagonist to the hero of the tale. (A similar process, where the antagonistic fairy is just the fairy godmother of someone other than the hero, was already used by d'Aulnoy in several of her previous fairytales, including The Blue Bird). As for the six benevolent fairies, while they are all good and nice throughout the story, the narration still highlights that they have two sets of chariots, and that when angered they drive the dragons, snakes and panther-driven chariots, hinting that while they are here helpers they can become antagonists in other stories.

4 ) While there is all the racism I talked about before, it is quite interesting to see here that we have two "anti-portraits" of ugly women, meant to oppose Desired's supreme beauty, two anti-portraits that actually help us understand the beauty criteria at work in this end of the 17th century of France. For Princess Black, we see that her ugliness comes from a "dark skin", "big lips" and a "crushed, large nose" - which are, beyond traits typically "African connoted", the opposite of the French ideal of women with very pale skin, very small noses, very thin lips. But in contrast, we also have Long-Thorn who presents another set of flaws. Just like princess Black there is the nose - here too red and too hooked - but beyond that we also have added poor teeth hygiene (Long-Thorn has black and unaligned teeth), and more interestingly a body too tall and too skinny. In general, when it comes to ugliness d'Aulnoy typically invokes smallness/dwarfism or fatness/obesity, but from time to time she also insists that when a character is too tall or too skinny, they also are ugly. Because in this time era, while they wanted women tall, they still didn't want them as tall as men, and there was still a certain "interest in the curve" as without being very large or big, women needed to be plump and fleshy enough to have a body to appreciate (a bony and skinny body was not a beautiful one at the time). Of course, no need to remind you that this was a set of aristocratic ideals - because only the noble and the rich could afford to be chalk-white and "pleasantly plump".

5 ) People have noted that, funnily, the way prince Warrior falls asleep in the woods after eating apples he found there looks like a "male Snow-White". It is quite interesting because, while there probably wasn't a Snow-White reference (since it is not a typically French tale), madame d'Aulnoy had the very Christian background and culture of the apple as the "forbidden fruit" with the whole Garden of Eden story. Which leads to an interesting point...

6 ) This fairytale is a sexy tale. It is not an overtly erotic fairytale, no, but there is an obvious VERY romantic if not sexy if not erotic connotation. This however only appears in the second half of the story, when Desired becomes the White Doe. Desired, turned into a prey, and Warrior, improvising himself a hunter, those two lovers, find themselves reunited deep into the woods (the uncivilized, savage, wild world) after purposefully leaving or fleeing their respective courts (the forest is noted to be filled with dangerous predatory animals, such as bears or lions). Warrior hunts down the White Doe, not knowing that she is the girl he is in love with and obsessed over - though he also grows a fondness, familiarity and love for this white doe. And all the while, the White Doe recognizes her hunter as the one she is in love with, and having to flee from him for her life is said to be just as painful as if she was actually hit by his arrows... Madame d'Aulnoy clearly plays here on metaphors and allegories to weave a whole "game of love" or "love as the hunt", "hunt as the love" section. Warrior hunting for the White Doe, the White Doe making sure she can be hunted while never letting herself be caught, it all evokes a bizarre game of seduction. Warrior clearly treats the Doe as more than a simple pet, claiming he "loves" it and wants it to follow him everywhere and to live with him. When the Doe tricks Warrior to escape him, and Warrior complains to his friend, Becafigue jokes about the situation being like an unfaithful woman cheating on her lover - but the prince answers his joke absolutely seriously. And of course, it is after the prince and the princess spend the night together, sharing their love, in human form, that the spell is broken... [Note: In my previous recap I might have written things backward, saying the spell is broken when "night comes and nothing happens". It is the reverse - they talk all ight long together, and as the morning comes she doesn't transform. Sorry about that.]

Beyond the general image, if things weren't clear eough d'Aulnoy keeps addng little details that make the story even more erotic - almost scandalous. The apple section I mentionned - prince Warrior eating apples in the woods before falling deeply asleep reminds of the first human consuming the "forbidden fruit", and it is when the White Doe dares sleep near him for the first time. When the prince catches the Doe or tries to "woo" it with gifts, it is said he keeps petting it, hugging it, caressing it, kissing it - as a pet, as an animal of course, but we reader know that there is a human woman underneath this doe skin, and so the erotic content cannot be escaped. ESPECIALLY when it is said that, after running from each other all day long, both return to their respective bedrooms "sweating and panting, exhausted by the time they spent together". And don't even get me started on how the prince ends up, to conquer and tie up the doe, hitting her with a single arrow in the leg, making her bleed... This is not a fairytale safe for kids.

7 ) Speaking of love, I did not mention it in my recap, but this fairytale is one of the rare ones of d'Aulnoy to have a moral in the end. To summarize it, d'Aulnoy explains that "With the story of this princess that wanted to leave too soon the dark place a wise fairy placed her in to hide her from the sun's light - and the metamorphosis and misfortunes that resulted from it - you will find an illustration of the dangers to which a young beauty exposes herself when she enters too young, too unprepared in the world. If you were gifted with all the traits and qualities that attract love to you, you better know how to hide them, because beauty can be deadly. If you think that by making others fall in love with you, you will shield yourself from love, well know that by giving too much, you always end up taking." So yes, long story short, this is meant to be more than just a fairy love story, but a warning for girls that too young, too beautiful, too unprepared, throw themselves in the world of love, adult and serious romance, and have to be confronted with the many dangers in it.

8 ) On a more "traditional love story" side, this fairytale accumulates ALL the story devices typical of romances of the type to avoid having the two lovers meet each other. In fact, this is the entire point of this story, the apex and climax and culmination: when princess Desired and prince Warrior can finally see each other in person, and talk to each other. At first you had the exchange of portraits and the sending of ambassadors, then you had the fake princess Long-Thorn hijacking the planned meeting, then the two lovers finally got under the same roof, but not only ignored each other's existence, even when meeting each other they didn't recognize themselves thanks t the doe curse... So when they finally see themselves as humans and touch each other as humans and talk a full dialogue, the story is complete and the curse is broken

9 ) Note however that despite the seemingly virtuous and chaste moral added at the end, madame d'Aulnoy does write the character of a more proactive and manipulative princess that "plays" her male lover. It is she that is happy with his caresses and petting and allows herself to be "touched" of the sort, and it is she that sneaks up by her lover's asleep body, and again the terms of the curse are clear - by day she is forced to become a beast, and to do as beasts do, aka to wander in the woods, aka to return to the world of savagery, primal desire and bestial behavior. On the other side, something that might escape a reader at first glance is that prince Warrior is not supposed to be a "prince Charmng" of the traditional genre. As I said, we are inside d'Aulnoy's second book of fairy tales, and so she reached a point where she plays with the conventions of the genre. In the whole hunt story, we have a brutal lover who tries to kill, seriously wounds though he heals it afterward) and ties up with knots his lover, treating her like a prey and a beast (well, because she IS, but you know) - and there is also the use of the peep-hole by Becafigue that solves the whole problem indeed, but by the undignified way of spying into women's bedrooms (Becafigue had already a not so good behavior when he acted as Warrior's ambassador, encouraging Desired's parents to ignore the "powerless" and "silly fairies" and disobey Tulip's warnings - and in the world of fairy tales one should NEVER underestimate the power of fairies)

But that's just for the second part of the story. In the first part, prince Warrior's behavior is also to be criticized. In fact, it is quite ironic that he is called "Warrior" and introduced as the winner of "three battles", because the first part of his character act has him acting as un-warrior, if not un-manly as possible. He becomes a love-stricken mess, he locks himself in his room talking to a portrait, he despairs of not being able to be with his love, he spends his day dreaming, and doing nothing, and wasting away, with no appetite for anything, making himself sick over lethargy and depression - and so fragile that he can't even wait three months for his loved one to come without fearing he would die. And even worse, when his hopes and dreams of love are crushed, he acts as a selfish coward by simply abandoning his parents, his throne, his court and duties, leaving secretly at night with just one letter behind to explain everything to his parents, and isolating himself from the world in desire to just cry on his own fate forever in some isolated place... We've got some emo teen in love vbes here.

10 ) This fairytale is very "medieval" like in tone. Beyond the "fairy christening" scene that is reused everywhere ever since Perrault and inherits from similar medieval scenes, a la Perceforest, the entire topic of the hunter going after a supernatural, white animal he cannot capture is an iconic topos of medieval literature. Typically this doubles or is tied to the hunter meeting some mysterious woman in the woods, preferably near a fountain, who might take him to a wonderful palace - but this happens rather to Desired's mother, who meets a fairy at a fountain, and is then taken to the six fairies' magical castle.

11 ) In terms of folkloric inspiration, if we use the Catalogue Delarue-Tenèze (a local form of the ATU Index but exclusively covering French fairytales), this story is clearly a literary take on the story type 403, "The substituted fiancee", "The fake fiancee". More specifically, it is a literary take on the 403-B (characterized by the metamorphosis of the real fiancee replaced by a fake one), though there is one element typical of the 403-A (the fact that the prince falls in love with a portrait). While inspired by it, madame d'Aulnoy clearly adds several purely literary elements that make this story very unique. For example the scene of the "fairy-gifts" and the "fairy-curse" at Desired's birth, or the presence of a first fiancee for the prince in the person of the princess Black, two elements united by the character of the Crayfish Fairy or Fairy of the Fountain - this all comes from d'Aulnoy's mind, and is traditonnaly not found in French folktales. And this was clearly placed here only to complicate the originally straightforward story into something much more focused on a "twist-and-turn romance".

#the white doe #the hind of the woods #french fairytales #literary fairytales #french fairy tales #madame d'aulnoy #d'aulnoy fairytales #fairytale analysis

121 notes · View notes

lee-hakhyun · 2 months ago

Text

Since you have no means of escape, let me tell you about my Merlin AU for ORV :D I haven't watched Merlin past some clips, making it clear, i just leveraged a very fun setting. Merlin spoilers ahead though.

Kim Dokja is the warlock servant who gets unceremoniously tied to Prince Yoo Joonghyuk by the whims of fate, meant to help guide him to become the Once and Future King. KDJ must keep this sunfish safe from perilous situations while hiding his magic, because magic is outlawed in the *flips notes* N'gai Kingdom.

Among this cast is fellow servant Yoo Sangah (Gwen), the king's ward Han Sooyoung (Morgana), a dragon in the basement (either Abyssal Black Flame Dragon or the Fourth Wall) the knights Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon, and on and on it goes.

In my head things would probably run similar enough to the show with the exception that every once in a while KDJ sees some strange cloaked figure that he can just feel the magic brimming off of, helping him in subtle ways when things get really tough. Who is that secretive figure helping him out?

KDJ kind of lets his guard down, able to trust this seemingly friendly (if extremely gruff) man with his magic in a way he can't with YJH. They don't have the same camaraderie, but it's still a comfortable companionship regardless.

And then this mysterious person kidnaps KDJ.

YJH and friends chase the evident sorcerer that kidnapped KDJ all the way to the ends of the Earth, having to combat power unlike any they'd seen before - until at a rift in space, this man finally uncloaks himself to reveal someone sharing YJH's face. It has to be a trick. It has to be.

But the man not a perfect reflection; he looks aged, older and wiser and with an undercurrent of grief that keeps him clutching KDJ to his side. KDJ is a warlock, the man claims. One that would, despite what YJH believes of magic practitioners, would give his heart and his life for over and over an ungrateful spoiled prince until he had nothing left to give.

And then he jumps into the portal. Into a parallel timeline/potential future.

This is where we get into spoiler territory for Merlin; in the series, Morgana betrays Merlin and Arthur, and Arthur kind of dies. In this AU, HSY and YJH were prophesied to experience the same thing, except KDJ gave all of his magic to abort said prophecy because it sucked and died, so now everyone in that particular future is in mourning.

Which is why, when the broken prophecy causes a rip in dimensions and into the past, YJH and HSY teamed up to nab KDJ from that other timeline. The people who MADE that prophecy though (either Olympus or the King Arthur legends from the universe of ORV's Main Story who are unhappy they didn't get the spotlight there, I'm not sure yet) are mad at KDJ for not following the prophecy and want to gank them. The future YJH (who will be referred to as SP for now) and future HSY have apparently become terrifyingly adept at fending off actual gods, but for how long? And how will KDJ get back to his original dimension?

Meanwhile, Prince YJH and friends desperately try to find a way to where SP had taken KDJ, as the rift had closed with their departure. Swallowing his pride and the biases that had started to form, he looks to powers he would never have trusted before...

(And somewhere in the future timeline, with the arrival of a reader to the world once more, a struggling writer finds himself startled to see a half-dead, malnourished young boy at his doorstep. To this boy that now rests in his home, he tells bedtime stories and fairy tales that he has no idea are now set to become another prince's adventure.)

This was very much abbreviated from the original thoughts I had, but I feel like I figured out a bit more of the details that I couldn't before (like what's going on with OD). Sorry for making your submission box my unwilling sandbox, but I hope you found some enjoyment out of it :>

#submission #spoilers #for the tv series merlin tho #bbc merlin spoilers #orv spoilers #orv

16 notes · View notes

synergysilhouette · 10 months ago

Text

Guide to my Rewrites (and other content)

I post a lot of things, and some of those things are rewrites. As such, I thought this would be a nice guide for fans of my rewrites in particular. I'm still adding new things! Lemme know what you think.

Alternate Takes (Disney)

These are projects that have the same characters and settings (for the most part), but different plot points. These particular alternate takes suggest ideas that would've made me enjoy the movie more (or at all) and aren't a fanfic so much as bullet points with pictures.

Aida

Pocahontas

Hercules

The Princess and the Frog

Tangled

Frozen

Big Hero 6

Moana

Frozen 2

Raya and the Last Dragon

Encanto

Strange World

Wish (Note: working on a full-length rewrite unrelated to the ideas used here)

I also did rewrites for two Dreamworks movies:

The Road to El Dorado

Sinbad

Reimagining Disney Movies

These are projects that take Disney's framework (ie a fairy tale) and create my own characters, plot, setting, and song titles for it.

The Snow Queen

Kingdom of the Sun

Rapunzel

Reimagining Disney eras

These posts are designed based on what if Disney eras made different decisions (either based on my own ideas or rejected concepts) for their films. Note: I made the revival post before the renaissance and post-renaissance posts, so they kind of flow in different continuities. I also wanted to include future ideas for Disney's next era. These posts also work independent of my "Alternate Take" posts.

Reimagining the Renaissance

Reimagining the Post-renaissance

Reimagining the Revival era

Plotting out the Reinvention era

Marvel

Not quite as detailed as my other rewrites, but I thought I'd include them.

Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness

Thor: Love and Thunder

X-Men (Because they have more content than my other Marvel things)

This pretty much just includes my rewrites.

X-Men: Evolution--New roster, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Roster (Timeskip), Season 4, and Season 5 (I did a poll months ago, and maybe I'll do a post brainstorming a Marauders spinoff).

Wolverine & the X-Men--New Roster, Season 1

Fox's X-Men films (I may remake this)--Part I (First 3 films) and Part II (Phoenix, NM, and Dark Phoenix)

Extensive rewrites

TV shows that I've remade episode-for--episode, perhaps removing and adding some as I see fit.

Miraculous Ladybug--Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4 (currently working on Season 5; been dragging my feet with that!)

Anime as comic books

Yes, this is a topic. I remember when I was in this headspace, and it was really fun. I basically reimagined what if popular anime had been created as superhero comic books that golden or silver age.

Dragon Ball

Naruto

Anime rewrites

Black Butler

Naruto: Part I

High Card: Season 1

Video Game Rewrites

These aren't quite as detailed as my usual rewrites.

Bayonetta

Fire Emblem: Awakening

Fire Emblem: Fates

Fire Emblem: 3 Houses

Kingdom Hearts

Hogwarts Mystery (MAYBE; ongoing internal discussion)

My OCs

This section covers my original characters for a few fandoms. Thinking of making OCs for books/anime/comics, but I do not have the confidence that I know the universe(s) well enough.

Fictif

The Arcana

Hogwarts Legacy

Baldur's Gate 3

Mood Boards

Just something I've made for fun to inspire others! Not an expert on making them, but it was still something I wanted to do.

My Wish rewrite (temporary)

Disney's Swan Lake

Disney's Hansel & Gretel

Disney's Rumpelstiltskin

Disney's Red Riding Hood

Sub-Saharan Disney musical

Disney Superhero Film

Japanese Disney musical

Actors who could play Disney villains

Choices: Stories You Play

REALLY into this game for a period--but it started to get awful when "Witness" came into play. Here's a list of reviews (which I've stopped doing) as well as concepts for new books (originally on Reddit before I got banned).

"Before I Say I Do"

"Celebrity Status"

"Summoned to Court"

"Arkikara"

"Fairy Godparent"

"Hierarchy: Scheming University"

"Willow Falls"

"Late at Night"

"Spellcaster"

"Four"

"America's Most Eligible" (Review)

"Desire & Decorum" (Review)

"High School Story" (Review)

"Rules of Engagement" (Review)

"The Freshman" (Review)

"Queen B" (Review)

Winx Club Content

Rewriting the Winx

Rewriting the Specialists

Rewriting the Villains

Monster High Content

Plotting out Gen 4

39 notes · View notes

tildeathiwillwrite · 8 months ago

Text

Tag Game: OC in 15

Thank you to @late-to-the-fandom and @thewritingautisticat for tagging me!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!

I've been on a Draven kick lately so I'll choose him. He's got a lot of fun lines. These lines are all from The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure from Tales from Valaria. For context, he's a werewolf hunter with a sarcastic sense of humor and a gun. Two guns.

“What, you haven’t heard of me?”

Enough with the formalities, Fairy. You know who I am and my reputation, you're the one who summoned me here behind the Guild's back.”

"Are we judging each other's fashion choices? Because your fancy vest and dress shirt wouldn't last a day in my line of work."

“You are. So lucky. I didn't shoot you.”

“Try that again,” Draven hissed in his ear,” and I’ll carve out your organs and sell them on the black market.”

"You did say that… are you finally giving me answers a whole" ��Draven made a show of checking the clock on the desk— "two years later?"

“The only reason you’re aware of this plan, Fairy, is you’re, unfortunately, essential to its completion.”

“I can name at least three people in the guild who’ll thirst for your blood after seeing this."

Draven winced at the thought. “Ugh, fine. But I will not apologize for the names I will call you.”

“You know what, I don’t want to know. I’m going back to bed.”

“Don’t you think that was a bit much?” he muttered out the side of his mouth.

“You’d think the living legend would know more about the mythical rock.”

“You do realize we’re talking about circumventing the laws of nature, right?”

“I can already tell I’m not going to like this.”

Fun fact: in the very first draft Draven had knives. But then I gave Octavian knives, so Draven got the pistols for more variety. I also love the idea of a character who's just Some Guy in a fantasy story. Just Some Guy with the power of gun.

No pressure tagging: @gamerkats @fourwingedsnake @themswritinwords @faytelumos @chronicallydragons @spitefulbull and open tag!

#thtmatc #draven cozenson #tales from valaria #oc in fifteen #oc in 15 tag #tag game #my wips #my ocs #writeblr #writeblr tag game #writeblr tag games #open tag

20 notes · View notes

irkimatsu · 9 months ago

Note

I saw another person ask about this for someone else for husk dating Alastor's sister

Your writing is so good I'd love u see ur take on it

First off, fun fact, Alastor's an only child! (Source!) I know things can change over years in show development, but it's something I'll take as canon unless proven otherwise, and I'm a real stickler for canon. So, while I didn't write about a sister by blood, I decided to give him a childhood friend who views him as a brother.

Maybe that view is too rosy for her to see what kind of person Alastor really is and always has been... that's going to make things difficult for Husk...

Third-person; sorry if you wanted reader-insert, I wasn't sure! I wanted to give the sister more detail than I typically give reader-inserts anyway. Kind of Husk/OC, but more for establishing that a relationship like this is going to be rocky as hell. SFW. About 1.5k words.

Her name was Clara.

Husk didn’t believe in love at first sight - that was a fairy tale he left behind long ago, along with all his other dreams from when he was young and stupid. Still, even if he wouldn’t call it love right away, something about her struck his interest the instant she walked into the hotel and sat at his bar. She was a short, black bear demon, her soft facial features reminiscent of a teddy bear. She wore a green floral dress, and had the heart of a charming Southern belle. Her bright smile and light voice even made Husk almost not care when she scolded him for swearing for the twentieth time. She’d only been here for about an hour, and already Husk was looking forward to how things would progress over her stay…

…and then Alastor showed up.

“Clara, my dear, it’s been ages! How has my darling little sister been?”

She happily ran into Alastor’s arms and accepted some affectionate scritches on the head from him, and Husk had no idea what to make of the situation.

Further conversation revealed that she wasn’t really his sister, not by blood, but their bond during life was no weaker for it. She was about five years younger than Alastor in life, though she’d died over a decade after Alastor had. She’d often jokingly comment that she was technically the older sibling now, but as Alastor always insisted, “once a little sister, always a little sister!” In their youth, she had tagged along with him for woodland excursions for as long as she could remember. He was always happy to have her along for the ride and teach her everything he knew about outdoor survival.

Husk couldn’t help but notice that Alastor never brought up certain other activities from his life whenever Clara was in listening distance.

God, Husk hated the way he’d steal her attention. He’d be having a nice chat with her, managing to forget exactly who she was, only for Alastor to butt in and ruin the mood. As they reminisced about living experiences that Husk had no input for, he couldn’t help but wonder if Alastor was trying to distance them on purpose.

Was it to punish Husk, or to protect his reputation from Clara?

Whatever the reason, Husk’s eventual solution was to start meeting Clara in her room. Not for any inappropriate reasons, he insisted to a scandalized Charlie and an intrigued Angel; he simply knew Alastor’s manners wouldn’t let him burst into his own “sister’s” room unwanted, granting them some privacy as long as Alastor had no suspicions of whatever they spoke about.

Husk promised him to keep certain things secret. Alastor’s leash on him forced him to make that promise loudly and clearly.

Why would he want to spend his time talking about Alastor, anyway? He got enough of that asshole in his daily life. He just wanted someone to talk to about music and films from his time period and to share opinions on food and drink with. She was a very cultured woman, and could follow a conversation about anything Husk could imagine; if she didn’t know something, her curious mind knew which questions to ask to keep the topic interesting. The hours melted away whenever Husk got a moment uninterrupted with her.

Over time, maybe he did consider taking things a little further. To take her hand and invite her to dance, to kiss her at the perfect moment over the swelling strings of a strategically chosen song…

But before he could ever make that happen, a subject couldn’t be avoided anymore.

“Why do you put up with Alastor?”

Husk’s question was sudden, breaking a brief silence before Clara could cover it with more interesting but overall irrelevant conversation. He lazily swirled his glass of whiskey as he spoke, a glass he so desperately needed right then after another argument with his “owner” had gone poorly.

“What are you talking about?” Clara asked. “I’ve known him for almost all my life. He’s practically my brother. Why wouldn’t I want to ‘put up’ with him?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of what he’s been up to since he got here?” Husk asked before gulping down his glass and topping it off again.

“...okay, well…” Clara said, laughing nervously. “I know he’s built up a bit of a… reputation down here…”

“And you’ve seen how he treats me.” No, she hadn’t seen the worst of it; as far as Clara knew, Alastor’s comments about keeping his pet Husker on a leash were purely metaphorical. But she’d heard all the condescending nicknames, seen all the condescending touches that Husk would growl and pull away from. Husk’s disdain for the man wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Oh, he teases everyone,” Clara said, laughing and waving away Husk’s concern. “You just gotta grow a thick skin!”

Husk growled. “You saying I’m thin skinned?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Husk huffed before draining another glass of whiskey as quickly as he could pour it. “Did he ever tell you about how he died?”

“Why would he need to tell me?” Clara asked. “I was alive when it happened. A hunter saw him in the woods, thought he was a deer, and shot him. The hunter ran back to town to get the police, they found his body right where the hunter said, and the whole thing was wrapped up as a tragic accident. What else is there to know?”

“Did he ever tell you why he was in those woods that day?” Husk pressed further.

“He never needed a reason. He always loved those woods, ever since we were kids. Knew them inside out. Knew all the places to hide, whether he wanted to hide himself or bury a treasure.”

Husk couldn’t help but scoff at how far this was going over her head. “He’s told me what he was doing in the woods that day plenty of times. Sounds real damn proud of it every time, too.” Another chug of whiskey; his brain was starting to shut down, and good for it. “Someone oughta dig that place up if they haven’t already…”

“...I don’t understand…” Clara’s voice trembled enough to make Husk wonder if she understood more than she wanted to admit.

“If it came to it, and you had to choose. Who would it be?” Husk asked.

“Huh?”

“Me or Alastor?”

“Why would I have to choose? I care about Alastor, but he may as well be my brother, and even if he wasn’t he’s never cared about relationships anyway. But you, Husk…” Clara smiled, her damned gentle smile, as she rested her paw over Husk’s. “You mean something different to me. Something special…”

Husk’s heart thumped against his own judgment as her soft, warm paw closed around his own. “I was actually thinking that maybe we could… if you were interested…” Her coy act was so rehearsed, but in different circumstances, it may have won Husk over.

These were not those circumstances. He growled as he yanked his hand away. “No. Not if being with you means I have to keep putting up with that fuckhead.”

“If you really care about me, then why can’t you accept someone who’s so important to me, who I’ve had since I was alive?” Clara asks. Husk was too drunk to decide whether or not the tears in her eyes were genuine or not.

He truly wished he could care more, but without the whiskey doing its job at numbing his emotions, this conversation might have turned even uglier than it already had.

“There’s a lot he’s keeping from you, Clara, and I’m pretty sure you know more than he realizes you do. And until you can come to terms with who that bastard really is, this ain’t gonna work between us.”

“Husk…” she pleaded, gazing at him with dark, tear-filled eyes. “Please… please understand my situation… no matter what he’s done, you can’t really expect me to let go of someone who’s taken care of me for so long…”

“And you can’t expect me to forgive someone who’s been treating me as badly as he has for so long.” Husk went to pour himself another drink, but found to his irritation that the bottle was empty. “Fuck it. I’m going back to the bar.” He moved to stand up from her bed, but with those eyes still transfixed on him, he found it difficult to move.

…fuck. Fine. Just one more thing.

“Before I go…” He rested a paw on Clara’s cheek, and slowly leaned in for a kiss. She accepted his mouth on hers, firmly holding still for a few seconds before he pulled back. She tried to place her paws on the back of his head and pull him back in for more, but he resisted and finally stood up.

“If you want me to do that again, then figure shit out.” With that, Husk was gone from the room, headed back to the bar in the hopes that he could drink her taste out of his memory.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers

12 notes · View notes

rayless-reblogs · 11 months ago

Note

How about 8. and/or 27. from the author ask game?

Got it!

8: How do you feel about epilogues?

It's not something I've given a lot of thought, but on reflection, I really like them. One of my chief hang-ups with media, especially books and video games, is when there's too long of a stretch between the climax and the end of the story. Sometimes there's this long dead zone, where all the energy evaporates because the author's telling us how things are being resolved, but the tension is gone and we're just getting too much information. Or, the author spins things out too long by throwing in some little last-minute conflicts that can feel distracting and irritating. In general, I want the climax-to-finale interval to be as short as possible -- but then you run the risk of leaving the story feeling unfinished.

So an epilogue can be a big help. You've had your final confrontation. The Dark Lord is dead (or maybe your spouse now, who knows?) With an epilogue, you can end the climax on an emotional high note, and then fast forward to some time in the future. There, you can show how the characters' and the world's circumstances have changed without explaining every step. You don't have to endure a period of explanation and minor problem-solving. It allows the payoff of the actual ending to arrive much quicker.

So I think they can be very useful, and, looking back, I've noticed I often use them myself, both in original and fanfic. But they aren't always called for. With both Papom and Eola, that fast-forward after the climax to see what everyone's up to felt right. The next book, on the other hand, didn't need one. It's definitely a case by case thing.

27: Do you try to do most of your research ahead of writing (when research is necessary) or do you do it as things come up?

Up until recently, I hadn't set time aside to specifically research ahead of a project. Either I was writing fic, and "research" involved happily absorbing things through the fandom. (Though in some cases, I should've researched more real-world stuff too.) Or I was writing fantasy, and I felt I had enough of a grasp on my world-building not to have to research things.

(This is not to say people shouldn't research their fantasy world-building -- being grounded in reality enriches a fantasy setting -- but Papom and Eola didn't feel like they called for it.)

Papom is based on a number of fairy tales, so I did read up on the variants before writing, but I chose not to delve too far into academic interpretations. Given Eider's double amputation, I also researched that, but that came after I'd written the first draft -- that was useful in refining her character and realizing she'd actually be more self-sufficient than I'd initially thought.

Research is good, but I think it can sometimes bog down an author's progress. Sometimes, it's good to just launch into things and get your ideas down, and then worry more about getting details right on the next draft. So in some cases, I'd recommending researching as you go, or even afterwards.

But with my third book, the Next Book, it's a fantasy, but it's not a fantasy set in a cute little universe of my own making: It's set during real-world history, involving real cultures, in a very real point in time. I don't want to get too specific yet, but this is why I've been dropping little mentions about neat things I've learned regarding Greek culture in the Roman Empire. Something I am not an expert on.

Fake fantasy setting? Yeah, I'm totally an expert on that, let's dive in and make stuff up as we go. Rome? Uh -- I've read some stuff, but not enough to world-build. I need to learn a lot before I have an idea what the setting for my characters even is.

The book's plot is also based somewhat on the writings of an ancient writer, so I had to read through all of their output. I think that started some time in 2021. Then it was time to research Rome itself. It's a huge subject, so I focused on a few areas that were most relevant to my story, and then I went after different books on those subjects. That was 2022 and into 2023. I took notes and outlined during that stage, but I didn't start properly writing until I was done with all of the reading.

But once I started writing, I kept running into little questions like -- "Did the Romans have any understanding of asthma?" "How did Romans store their books?" So in a smaller way, I kept researching all the way through.

That was maybe more answer than you bargained for, but thanks for the ask!

Meme here.

#writing #meme

6 notes · View notes

uefb · 2 years ago

Text

Final chapter of The Riot Act link

Summary: In which the Scamanders write a lot of letters; Uncle Hesiod is effectively blackmailed by every single member of Newt’s family (including Newt himself); Theseus shows every shade of who he is and who he will become; and Newt and his father have a bit of a “glow-up”, as the kids say in the year of our lord 2023. (Click for relatable Newt & Theseus meme.)

Also, 11-year-old Newt dropping truths: “I know I annoy people, Uncle Hesiod, but I think all creatures must be met with a baseline level of compassion, and I wonder if I am sometimes not afforded that because I am different.”

Gifs by @whumpypepsigal

Excerpt (opening letters):

7AM

Floo Telegram (extra charge for weight)

Helios Scamander to Rowan Scamander

Dear Rowan,

Wanted to let you know that Newt’s day at the Ministry was rather awful. It sounds like he comported himself reasonably well, while Hesiod—on the other hand—behaved beastly. I expect we’ll be dealing with the damage for a week or so. No “fairies”, per se, but he’s gone a bit more quiet than usual, so I’m giving him the day with Theseus and his projects to see if that helps.

All that being said, Newt is—strictly speaking—physically all right, so there’s absolutely no need to worry on that front. (No doxy disasters or broken limbs, thank Merlin.) However, you and I will need to have a good long talk, I’m afraid. Make some decisions about the nature of our own relationship with Hesiod and my family generally, as well as revisit more realistic plans for Newt’s future. And then also, on quite a more basic level, we must contend with the now (while somehow not reinforcing the mess Hesiod has dumped into our laps—he planted some rather upsetting ideas in Mud’s fertile little head). Nevertheless, our son went on a bit of a solitary nighttime wander after, more or less, lying to me by omission… So that’s obviously behaviour that must be addressed. I’ve just absolutely no clue how to do it.

Anyway - I’ll be bringing him home tomorrow after work. (And yes — Theseus and I have both enchanted him to within an inch of his life. If he so much as sneezes before we’re back in Derbyshire, we’ll know it.) T has requested to come along. I shall tell you all the details in person, as I’ve got my hands surprisingly full on the one with an enraged 19-year-old who still thinks I can’t tell when he’s scheming; and, on the other, with an 11-year-old, who apparently requires magnificently compelling evidence just to convince him to eat his damn breakfast.

With love,

Helios

7:20AM

Floo Telegram

Rowan Scamander to Helios Scamander

Helios — So sorry to hear it went horribly but happy to know he mostly behaved(?). Unsurprised he fled the flat if upset, though still unacceptable. (How in the world did he get past you, though?) Must admit, am quite worried without details, esp. if T is concerned enough to leave training. Floo chat, please? Or at least summarise? Regarding breakfast: If you move whatever N is working on to left of his plate and then push plate twd him, he’ll typically eat w/out realising he’s doing it. (But thank him when he finishes, so he notices he’s done the routine—we don’t want him starving at Hogwarts…!) Please give both our boys my love.

8AM

Letter

Helios Scamander to Hesiod Scamander

Dearest brother,

I’ve been made aware that Newt’s visit to the Ministry yesterday did not go the way either of you had hoped. Certainly, I heard the tale from Theseus who had had to wrangle it from Newt in fits and starts, but the boy keeps incredibly detailed notes about creatures or interactions that fascinate, inspire, or confound him; and I’d assume he’s classed yours as confounding. I’ll be sending him to the grocer at some point, during which time I plan to unashamedly steal his journal and read all about it myself. So you may rest assured the truth shan’t be twisted by the party line. (That’s a Muggle invention, Hesiod. Quite novel. Not that you would know.)

So, here is the heart of it, brother:

I did not think I needed to make this clear as I’ve already done so in the past… But I do not need your assistance in rearing my son. I have appreciated your efforts to show interest and befriend him this past year, but I’m afraid I will be putting a stop to that, as well. You will not lay hand or wand on him. You will not reprimand him. You will not disclose information—to him or anyone else—that Rowan and I have kept to ourselves for a reason. You will bring any and all concerns directly to me instead of breaking the heart of a child. Furthermore, Newt will be doing any future career preparation with myself or with Rowan; and you are not to even speak to him without one of us present.

Finally… Newt has requested he be allowed to write you an apology for his behaviour—he is a far better man than me, because I didn’t intend to make him do that—as well as “tell [you] some thoughts”. As Newt’s not typically one for telling anyone thoughts of any sort if they’re not specifically about animals, I’m hardly going to discourage him... However, because we will be using this as an opportunity to practice letter-writing and grammatics, I expect it may take a few days, as his Mum and I are both busy through Saturday.

A word of warning: Theseus has just left the flat with a look on his face that usually means trouble, so I do hope you enjoy the visit.

Your loving brother,

Helios

P.S. - Please send any mail beginning tomorrow evening to the Derbyshire address.

8:20AM

Floo Telegram

Helios Scamander to Rowan Scamander

Rowan — Thanks for suggestion. Breakfast eaten. (Who knew earthworm digestive systems were so compelling.) Regarding floo: Can’t while N’s around. But he’s more chipper now, so I’ll try to have T take him out for chips at tea.

The summary is that N repeatedly spoke out of turn + H rather severely punished him. Please don’t discuss in detail w N until home. T + I are handling it delicately and T’s off to MOM right now so there may be nothing of H left for you to worry about, anyway

#literally choosing an excerpt from this was impossible bc there aren’t stand alone moments that don’t ruin the character arcs when pulled #in isolation #ah well #fic: the riot act #my stuff #newt Scamander #Theseus Scamander #oc ch: rowan scamander #oc_ch: Helios Scamander #oc_ch: Hesiod Scamander #I didn’t mean to make Hesiod as dislikable as he is — every time I tried to give him redeeming qualities Helios showed up and said something #new and I was like — huh. I think maybe he might really be over 50% just a dick #and here we are #I mean all the characters are pretty complicated but he still sucks lmao #Scamander brothers #autistic newt scamander #young newt scamander

13 notes · View notes

apparentlyaswarmofbees · 4 years ago

Text

EVEN MORE Small Things to Imagine With The Brothers and Undatables

Because I got in a good mood after listening to 'My Narrow Road' from Ito Kashitaro. I recomend! it’s good!

Lucifer

The way he squints challengely at you when you spot a single paper plane on the corner of his office that looks suspisciously like a document.

The ultimate betrayal as he nudges the back of your knees with his own consequently making you almost lose balance.

The concentrated furrow of his brows upon his closed eyes as he tests the sounds of an old violin, big eyelashes slowly fluttering open as he gives a satisfied smile.

Present him a plushie and enjoy the sight as he takes a final look at his documents and any lost messages before going to bed, all the while keeping said plushie confortably sitting on his leg, his fingers absentmindely rubbing the soft texture every once in a while

Mammon

The casualness as you fix each other's clothes and accessories, your hands unwrinkling his collar, his fiddling with your own. Expect to have any long sleeves you wear suddenly be folded up whenever you guys sit near each other.

The teasing peek of skin from his belly and hips as his shirt rolls up just enough when he stretches his arms up with a very long, and slightly exagerated, yawn.

Having him laying on his arms on your middle, the adorable scrunch of his face, rubbing it on his arms as he tries to wipe off the growing smile on his lips when you give his nose an affectionate and gentle pinch.

Peeking from behind a tree and having him chase you around in circles until either of you decide to just to grab onto the other forcefully.

Leviathan

Tying his bangs in a cute little ponytail on the top of his head and watching as he refuses to undo it with pride for the entire day if the tie used was Ruri-Chan themed.

Making voices with him in front of a fan on a hot day, and watching as he starts to make more and more different voices and references the more confortable he gets.

Watching as Henry follows his owner's movements as he wanders back and forth in front of the big aquarium in a rant.

Hugging him close and playing with his hair as he burries his entire face on your shoulder and squeezing you closer with his arms each passing minute until he finally relaxes.

Satan

Challenging each other to read the most ridiculous crack fics in the most dramatic poet voice manageable and watching as he struggles to keep his composure.

The ridiculously serious and concentrated frown on his face as he tries to make a perfect ketchup cat on the top of an omelette and the ridiculously cute proud smirk on his lips as his eyes shine brightly at his successfull creation.

Talking to him about a show he has already watched and the undoubtedly excited fidgeding of his body as he struggles both to not spoil you of anything and to not give you omnious comments about what you should expect next.

Alternativelly, his coninuous gaze as he tries to read into every single detail on your facial expressions in a curious attempt to see if it gives out what he should expect to happen next on a show you have watched and recomended to him.

Asmodeus

The sight of him humming along to a tune with an absentminded smile as he paints his toe nails. There are clips in his hair to keep his bangs away from his eyes, toe separators on his feet and definetelly a few stains on his hands.

The way he looks in your direction with a wrigling brow as he flips his scarf dramatically over his shoulder in front of a store's one sided mirror.

Sharing a candied apple and watching as he smiles, small pieces of candy still stuck on and off his lips, giddy at both the idea of sharing it with you and the sweet taste of the lovely treat.

The happy twirl he gives as he shows off to you the new outfit he bought, clapping excitedly after having you do the same to him, possibly with the help of his own hand, spinning you smoothly almost like in a dance.

Beelzebub

Kissing the very tip of his nose and watching as the corners of his mouth squishes his reddening cheeks as he smiles so hard to the point he may not even be able to keep his eyes open anymore.

The almost bratty but adorable pout he gives when you deny him a sample of the still in process of making food before he proceeds to basically glue himself to your back, his head resting on your shoulders or head, expectant eyes watching as you move.

The sight of his hunk figure crouching down in front of a flower bed, his careful fingers giving the flowers a series soft and gentle nudges and touches, his face devoid of expression as he pays attention to every single detail. He nods, his face now carrying a satisfied smile. They were healthy.

Having him gladly and happily bend his head down to your height as you reach your hands into his hair, giving him a well deserved head pat.

Belphegor

Hanging up a blanket on top of a very throughly organized nest of pillows and stuffed animals in the dark, snuggling to him shoulder to shoulder, a flashlight in one hand, Grimm Fairy Tales on the other.

Watching as he succumbs himself to the rule of kittens as he lays down on the floor, giving a free pass for the small felines to climb and snuggle into his face, neck and body all they wanted.

Whispering ridiculous things right into each other's ears in an attempt to make the other laugh out loud in the worst places and situations.

Curling with him under a big blanket on a cold day, each with their own mug of hot chocolate. The adorable sight of a very obvious cream moustache that has made it's place on the sleepy demon's face.

Solomon

Taking Use of the closeness of your boddies while cuddling as an opportunity to tickle the hell out of him and watching as he struggles to decide if he should focus on getting out of your betraying hold or if he should keep on blocking your wriggling hands that keep reaching for his most sensitive spots.

Going on a small trip to the human world and somehow ending the day laughing your hearts out as you ride a two seats bike, that came equipped with two very nostalgic bells, together.

Sitting together with your backs touching, the immortal sorcerer closing his eyes, you being able to feel his every breath as he inhales and exhales, his body relaxing and melting into your presence alone.

Taking part of his shenanigans in the kitchen, feeding each other surprisingly edible samples, a happy smile never once leaving his face.

Simeon

Having your feet on top of his or his on top of yours as you both give in an attempt at slow dancing, his chuckles reverberating between your touching bodies, the vibrations leaving behind a small and giddy tingle on your skin.

Having him sit on the floor in front of you, your fingers combing through his dark hair and his body becoming more and more slouched as you attempt to style the silky strands into a braid.

Hands linked in the air for balance as each of you walk alongside an abandoned rail trail together, both of you aware, almost sheepishly, of how cheesy said action in fact was.

Sitting side by side on top of a tree branch, his fingers softly holding onto yours as both of you gaze into the distance, a gentle breeze swaying your clothes as the two of you enjoy a moment of confortable silence.

Diavolo

Teaching him various types dances and styles, his beautiful laugh echoing through the walls as he both succeeds and fumbles in his gestures, bright eyes attently paying attention and mimicking your every movement.

Going to the carnival together, watching as the prince of hell almost bounces on his feet from attraction to attraction, all the while while wearing a cute animal eared headband he completelly refused to take off until he stepped inside his own castle.

Introducing him to the human world "magicians", his face morphing through a chain of expressions as he watches in wonderous amazement tricks ranging from simple card tricks to making things desappear, reapear and multiply.

Kissing each other all over the face, little smoochy noises getting mixed with a fit of giggles as both of you were set on not leaving a single patch of skin unkissed, even thought the two of you were now smiling too hard to even do it properly.

Barbatos

Introducing him to fruit carving and watching as it slowly becomes like a new hobby for him. The buttler's posture and face turning into something almost fondly relaxed as he skillfully turns various types of fruits into beautiful shapes of objects, animals and flowers.

Giving each other an almost smirk like smile as you Link your arms together, the two of you bringing your respective glasses to your lips before drinking from the liquid at the same time.

Convincing him to try out scented candles, watching as he judges each option throughly, his expressions going through slight, almost unseen changes as he closes his eyes momentarily so he focuses solely on his senses of smell.

Gloved protective hands craddling your head onto his shoulder and firmly holding onto your back, the flicker of an almost sorrowfull expression threatening to break through his usual deadpan demanor gone unseen as he, strangely, hopes for his presence to be of enough confort.

#my heart was beating so fast all throughout the entire process of writting this #obey me!#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

3K notes · View notes

sluttyten · 3 years ago

Text

the cinderella search

summary: you’re a staff member at SM, and during the annual Halloween party, you go dressed as Cinderella. Enter Johnny as Prince Charming. You talk, you flirt, he falls in love, but you forget to tell him your name before the night ends, and thus begins his Cinderella Search.

length: 10,615

tags: near-strangers to lovers, bed sharing, fingering, dry humping, fluff, light on the smut compared to some of my other works tbh

Growing up, Cinderella had always been your favorite fairy tale. You just really loved the glamor and romance of the story, the idea of dressing up all beautifully and mysteriously, going to a ball to be noticed by the Prince.

And once you grew up, you still had that fantasy tucked away in the back of your mind, made more real when you entered the idol industry by joining SM Entertainment as a staff member. You were just a minor staff member, not important enough to be a manager (though that was the dream), but you were around idols so often that the fantasy was there, prodding you in the back of your mind.

There were days when you dreamed of being swept up in a Cinderella-style romance with one of the idols in the company.

“I can’t blame you one bit,” your close friend Jiwon tells you one day. She’s a makeup artist for the company; she’s seen their bare faces, seen them up close and personal, and having worked there for longer than you, she knows various artists under the company better than you do. “I won’t disagree with you at all that a secret romance with one of them would be amazing. Just like a drama. I want Kyungsoo to be my prince charming.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait for the Halloween party.”

That’s exactly what you’ve been talking about almost non-stop since you first heard that it was happening this year. With the party not having happened for a few years now due to one thing or another, this year it’s come back with a bang, and when the memo was put out that every staff member was invited to come in costume as well, just as a celebration for how hard everyone’s worked, it’s all that pretty much everyone’s been talking about. You’re excited that you get to go, that you get to dress up as well, and what caused Jiwon to start gushing about D.O. is you mentioning that you wanted to go dressed as Cinderella.

“Promise we can get ready together?” She asks you. “I really, really want to do your hair and makeup, I can already picture it.” Jiwon holds her fingers up, framing your face between them.

It helped that you already had the dress to wear for your costume. You’d spotted it a few years ago in a thrift shop, and because of your pure love for Cinderella, as soon as you saw the dress, you knew that you had to have it. Sure, it had been collecting dust in your closet for a couple years, but now you had found the perfect use for it at last.

The day of the Halloween party, Jiwon comes over just as she’d planned, taking as much of the day as she possibly can to make you up and style your hair to make you look like the Cinderella of her imagination. She’s just going simply, wearing all black with some cat ears, some whiskers drawn on her face, but most of her attention to detail is poured into her work on you.

By the time she finishes the last touch, you’re ready to leave. Already you’re going to be cutting it close to showing up late, so as she drops her brushes back in the bag she brought, you grab your phone, and make for the door.

“Oh no, you’re not finished yet.” She snakes her hand around your arm, bringing you to a halt. Jiwon tuts at you. “Cinderella can’t go to the ball without her mask.”

Like a true fairy godmother, Jiwon pulls a beautiful mask out of the makeup bag. “I saw this when I was shopping for my costume, and I knew it would just be perfect. You can’t be Cinderella and have everyone know who you are, that goes against the point of being Cinderella, right?”

She carefully sits the mask on your made-up face, ties the ribbons around the back of your head, trying not to disturb the work she put into your hair.

“Can we go now, fairy godmother?” You ask. “Before midnight, preferably.”

The fairytale vibe of the night truly hits home once you arrive at the party’s venue. Everyone’s in costumes, and at first it’s overwhelming because you can’t immediately distinguish the idols from the staff from the higher-ups in the company. As you and Jiwon step inside, you can only make out a few distinct people.

Red Velvet’s Irene is dressed like an actual goddess, complete with an array of stars in an arc around her (an interesting choice that definitely makes sure no one gets too close to her). You spot Chanyeol standing tall over the group of people he’s talking with too. And then you see him.

Prince Charming.

Johnny Suh.

He looks breathtakingly handsome, wearing a white uniform adorned with golden tassels and medals. His hair is gelled back from his face, and he’s in the middle of laughing at the princess beside him, though her back is to you. Johnny literally looks like a prince with his face full of sunlit radiance, and in that moment your heart yearns. You wish you had a Prince Charming, but it’s clear that this one already has his princess.

And then she turns around with a flip of her long, dark wavy hair.

You burst out laughing so loud that Jiwon hits your arm to make you quiet down.

Hendery is dressed as a princess, clinging to Johnny’s arm as Jungwoo and Ten stand there with them, both of them laughing along with the costumed couple.

There are several other princesses you soon realize. Staff members and female artists have both dressed as princesses, and the more of them you see, the more you think that you’re not the Cinderella of this ball. There’s others that shine with more glitz and glamor than your thrifted dress ever could. So you mostly stick to yourself, seated at a table in the corner, sipping at your drink to avoid talking to a drunk coworker when he stumbles into his seat at the table.

You just watch the party, suddenly no longer feeling it because the best looking man here tonight is clearly Johnny Suh (which you’ve thought that numerous times before, but especially so tonight) and it’s obvious that everyone else thinks so too. He wins a prize. He has people coming up to him all night, fawning over him, running their fingers through the tassels on his shoulders.

“Stop pouting,” Jiwon tells you as she drops down into the seat beside yours. She sits a fresh drink down in front of you. “Just drink this down and come have fun with me. We can mingle and actually get the chance to speak to some of these idols we never work with.”

You know she has her eyes on D.O. who’s standing in a clear line of sight from where you’re both sitting, holding an audience of a few people captive with his story.

“You go.” You nod toward him. “Here’s your chance, Jiwon.”

She frowns at you. “I didn’t spend so long making you look like Cinderella just for you to sit all glum in the corner. You look fantastic, darling, and if you don’t get up and show off that lovely dress and your beautiful face, then we can’t be friends anymore.” She folds her arms in front of her and pouts.

“If I go get some more drinks, does that count?”

“It’s an improvement at least.” She sighs. “I’m going to try to talk to him. While I’m gone, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She eyes your coworker who’s slumped over in his chair now, starting to snore. “And make sure he doesn’t puke on himself.”

You have no intention of babysitting a guy who takes every opportunity to steal credit from you, so you definitely leave the table as soon as Jiwon walks away.

You’re standing at the bar area, waiting for the man behind the counter to make the drink you’d requested, when someone comes up beside you, just a figure in the corner of your eye. It’s only when he speaks that you look up to see who he actually is.

“I think you dropped this,” Johnny says, and he’s holding up one of the satiny blue gloves you’d worn tonight. You’d taken them off while you ate, and you forgot you’d tucked them in the ribbon around your waist.

“Oh, thank you.” You incline your head and reach for the glove, but when your fingers brush Johnny’s, you pull away with your whole hand tingling. “I probably dropped the other one somewhere too.” You look around, searching the floor.

Johnny chuckles. “No, it’s still right there.”

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re wearing the mask that hides most of your face. The other glove is still safely tucked at your waist, and as Johnny tells the bartender what he’d like, you pull both gloves onto your hands.

“Here’s your drink, Princess.” The man behind the counter winks as he says it, pushing the drink toward you. “And yours, Prince Charming.”

You take your drink and start to walk away, planning to head back to your comfortable corner to drink alone in peace, but then you notice Johnny just a step behind you.

“I think you’re the only person dressed as a princess tonight that hasn’t come up to talk to me tonight.” He says, “Which is unfortunate, since I saw you the moment you walked in, and I wanted to come talk to you then, but Hendery wouldn’t let go of me. I think you deserved best costume; I’ve never seen a better Cinderella.”

His flattery works wonders on melting what nervousness you have in talking with him. Johnny’s all but a stranger to you. You don’t work closely with NCT, but on the few occasions you’ve gotten to work with them, Johnny was always such a large personality, so nice and funny and handsome. Maybe you definitely have a ridiculous crush on him. But it’s always been foolish and far-fetched.

This is the first conversation you’ve ever had with him, and you don’t quite make it back to that table in the back corner. Johnny drags you down to sit beside him at his table, and even though you’re surrounded by the other members, the way he’s looking at you as you talk makes it feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole building.

You finish your drink, lose track of time, and by the time that the party’s really and truly ending, you’ve forgotten everything but the way that Johnny looks at you, the sound of his voice, and how much that you have in common with him. Maybe it’s ridiculous to form such a deep connection with someone at a party, especially when tomorrow you go back to being just a lowly staff member and he’s a world-famous idol.

But Princess Hendery is the one to break up this intimate conversation. His hand lands on Johnny’s shoulder, and Johnny’s head snaps around.

“Hyung, your ride’s about to leave.” Hendery pats Johnny’s shoulder, and then points down the length of the table to a man you recognize as an NCT manager. A tipsy Jaehyun walks by, his fingers twisting in the neck of Johnny’s uniform, and he leans in to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, his fingers slipping down to get a better grip on Johnny’s uniform, and then he’s dragging Johnny out of his seat, pulling him away out the door with their manager before you can get another word in.

You look around then, somewhat dazed at being pulled back into non-Johnny reality, and also slightly buzzed from your drinks, and you realize that the room has emptied out around you, only a handful of people remain. Including Jiwon. She’s bright red and grinning from ear to ear, leaning on a man in costume.

You refuse to let her make any drunken mistakes tonight, so you make your way over, loop your arm around her waist. “Come on, fairy godmother, it’s midnight and we need to get home before the spell wears off.”

Jiwon moans and groans, reluctantly letting you lead her out of the party at last, taking her home to pass out on your sofa.

And it’s a bit later as you fall into bed fresh from your shower with all the makeup washed away now, as you look happily at the photos you’d taken with Jiwon and some selfies you’d snapped several times throughout the night, that you tragically remember that you never gave Johnny your name.

By tragedy or fate or something else against you in the universe, you don’t get to see Johnny again before your position in the company takes you overseas. Not long term, just for a month. But during that month you build a lot of experience toward achieving your dream of becoming a manager for a group, getting your hands almost within reach of that prized promotion.

And as for your Cinderella moment, you try to put it out of your mind, just as you’re sure Johnny’s done. Over a month has passed since the Halloween party, and you doubt he even remembers the Cinderella he spent the night talking to. Even if he does remember, you feel that any chance has long since passed for you to find him and tell him it was you.

On your first day back within the building, you’ve barely made it inside before Jiwon finds you.

You hear her slippers slapping against the ground as she runs toward you, and then she loops her arm through yours in a vice. “Come with me. We need to talk,” she whispers conspiratorially, dragging you into the elevator with her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this while you were away dealing with everything, but,” she says excitedly in a hushed voice so no one overhears, “As your self-designated fairy godmother, I thought I should definitely give you a little heads up. Johnny’s been looking for Cinderella.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. “What?”

“Everyone’s heard him asking around casually about who’d been Cinderella that night, but you sneaky thing!” She pinches your side. “How did you manage to go the whole night without telling anyone who you were?”

Had you? You’d definitely talked with several other staff members at the start of the night, including your supervisor. At least one of them must have recognized you, right? But looking back now, maybe you hadn’t talked in particular about anything that would have given away who you were, and you don’t remember any of them calling you by name or even acknowledging that you were in their department.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when the elevator doors open, and Jiwon walks out, still arm-in-arm with you.

“Look, it’s even a company-wide kind of meme.” She points at a bulletin board nearby where normally notices about events and deadlines and everything are hung. But now there’s also a sheet of paper with the word WANTED at the top, a badly pixellated image of the Disney version of Cinderella beneath that, and below that LAST SEEN: SM HALLOWEEN PARTY. In tiny font beneath contact NCT Johnny if you have any information.

“What the hell?” You look around to see if anyone else is looking, and then you step forward and tear it off the bulletin board. “What are people thinking? What if this shows up in the background of a video?” Idols pass through here semi-frequently with cameras on them for one reason or another. You can only imagine the chaos of fans reacting to such a notice as this Cinderella one.

Jiwon laughs as you crumple the sheet up and toss it in a nearby trashcan. “At this point, everyone’s started assuming Cinderella was just a random party-crasher or a ghost since she hasn’t come forward.” She pats your shoulder comfortingly. “One of the aespa girls almost confessed to him that it was her.”

A flare of jealous heat sparks to life in your belly. “Well, it definitely wasn’t!”

“Of course not! She was dressed like a princess too, but not anything remotely Cinderella-esque.” Someone walks into the elevator area, so Jiwon drops her voice to a whisper once more as she tries to urge you, “You should go tell him that you’re his Cinderella! It would be so cute!”

“Are you kidding?” You hiss, glancing over at the man waiting for an elevator. “Look at me, Jiwon. He’d take one look and laugh that I couldn’t possibly be Cinderella. I don’t look anything like I did that night.” You gesture at the very casual outfit you’re wearing, your drastically less made-up face, and just everything about you. You’d truly experienced some kind of magical transformation that night courtesy of the woman beside you. “I couldn’t tell him. Plus, it’s been over a month. Is he really still looking for Cinderella? I’d have given up by this point, like you said, just thinking it was a random party-crasher or something. Plus, if this is like an actual Cinderella moment, it’s not like anything romantic can happen between him and I. It’s against policy.”

Jiwon shakes her head, disappointed. “You’re such a party pooper, darling. And, you’re right, this isn’t a fairytale, okay? I get that. It’s real life and there’s actual consequences, so I won’t blame you if you don’t tell him. But come on, the risk is well worth the reward here, I would think. This job or Johnny? The choice is obvious to me.”

Maybe once you would have agreed. Choosing the literal man of your dreams (because Johnny has been showing up in your dreams with some amount of frequency ever since Halloween) would have been an easy choice before you’d actually landed a position in SM Entertainment. Even then, it wouldn’t have been a crazy choice in your mind. But more recently things have changed.

“They’re promoting me.” You shake Jiwon loose so you can face her properly. “That’s what the whole point of me being overseas for the last month was. Training me up, seeing if I had the potential to really be a manager. And that’s my dream job, you know. I don’t think the risk is worth the reward in this case. But damn,” you sigh, catching sight of a screen showing a clip from one of NCT’s music videos, Johnny’s face filling the screen. “I wish it was possible.”

To give up your dream job just for the possibility of a romance with an idol seemed far-fetched and stupid.

So you ignore the Cinderella search. It’s not like you ever even see Johnny, so it’s not a problem at all.

Until the day comes when you officially receive your promotion.

“You’re being promoted,” your supervisor tells you, “NCT needs a new manager, and you’re best qualified for the job.”

Your stomach feels like it drops to the floor. “What?”

You’d been expecting that you were going to get to help manage a new group, or at least maybe aespa. You didn’t think they’d throw you to the wolves that was the confusing mess of NCT’s schedules. So it was a nightmare wrapped in a thin layer of a dream, and right at the heart of it all was Johnny Suh.

You were so nervous on your first day as a manager (because of course, you couldn’t manage one of the other units, you had to be assigned to 127) that Johnny would recognize you on the spot, call you out on being Cinderella, and make a scene. But you were equally as nervous that he wouldn’t recognize you at all.

The latter turned out to be the truer though not entirely accurate.

When you were introduced to the members, Johnny gave you a kind smile, and then said, “Hey, I recognize you.”

Your heart stopped and then started beating at what felt like double-time. “You do?”

He nods. “Yeah, you’ve worked with us before, right?”

Ah. Your heart rate slows back to normal. “Yeah, yes, I have. Just a few times.”

Then he repeats your name back to you as if making sure that he’s got it right, and an hour later you’re still thinking about the way that your name sounds from his lips.

That feeling doesn’t pass, not for a while.

Slowly you grow more comfortable and relaxed in your role a manager for the group. You get used to the stunning presence of the handsome men. You get used to the sound of Johnny’s voice and his laugh. You get used to driving the members around, shuttling them to and from schedules, getting them what they need, managing them and managing your feelings.

And best of all, you never hear Johnny mention Halloween or Cinderella, which makes it much easier to put it all from your mind. Well, somewhat easier. Jiwon refuses to let you forget; she calls herself your fairy godmother all the time, calls you princess, teases you when you mention stories that involve Johnny, which is most of them because within several weeks of you becoming a manager for the unit, you and Johnny have actually grown quite close.

“Oh, come on!” Jiwon exclaims one evening as she stretches out on your bed. “I’m tired of all of these cute, funny stories about Johnny! I want gushy romantic, hot stories.” She rolls over onto her stomach and looks at you. “God, let me tell you, one time when I was doing their makeup the stylist had to make an alteration on his pants, and that man whipped off his pants with no shame and stood there in his underwear for me to do his makeup. Babe, I know you’re already mentally going through hoops to avoid thinking about him, but trust me that you would reconsider if you had seen his--”

You slap your hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”

“No need to sound so pained about it.” She pushes your hand away. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. Yeah, you’re a manager, but you and him are fully grown adults. This is a stupid policy because from the stories you’ve told me, if you and Johnny were just alone for like an hour together, you would probably end up together.”

You roll your eyes. There have been times you’ve been alone with Johnny, driving him to or from a schedule. It wasn’t like there was undeniable sexual tension in that van or anything like that. And even if Jiwon means totally alone in a non-mobile setting, you doubt anything like that would happen, but you’ve never yet had the chance to find out.

When the first winter storm hits, you’re driving Taeyong back to the dorm from a solo schedule he’d had that had run long. It’s very late. Taeyong dozes in the passenger seat, you’re yawning every other minute, and as you enter the city limits you realize that it’s starting to snow large, fluffy flakes that are coating everything they touch.

The city’s been extremely cold lately, so you’re not surprised that the snow isn’t melting, just piling up, making it hard to see at times.

By the time you reach the dorm, the roads are slushy and slick. Snow blows across the streets in waves.

Taeyong’s schedule had been a three-day event, so he has a few items to unload, and due to the sharp cold breeze and how deep asleep he’d been just moment before, you help Taeyong unload and carry his belongings up to the dorm. Your shoes squeak on the floor, and by the time you reach the door of the dorm, you’re both still shivering.

The door opens with a chime, and as you come inside, you see Johnny’s sitting at the kitchen table playing on his phone and eating cereal. Taeyong mumbles something, toes off his shoes, drops his bags, and just stumbles off to bed, too sleepy to even do anything else.

Johnny’s watching you as you let out a big yawn and sit what you’d been carrying down beside the rest.

You run your fingers over your hair, brushing away the last snowflakes that cling somewhat intact to your hair. “It’s snowing pretty good out there. I haven’t seen snow like this in years.”

Johnny glances over at the large window of their living room. The puffs of snow float by, lit up by all the city lights, and he stands up, walking over to press his face to the glass, looking down at the street below and the rooftops around their building. Everything’s already covered in a pretty decent amount of snow.

“It’s beautiful out there.” Johnny is pressed to the glass, looking out at everything.

Before you can register what’s happening (it is very late and you’re half-asleep on your feet, so excuse you if you’re a little slow at the moment), Johnny’s walking back past you, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair with one hand, and taking your hand with the other. He guides you along by the hand down through the building, out into the falling snow.

“What are we doing?” You ask, folding your arms around yourself as Johnny releases your hand once you’re outside. Shock at the situation kept you silent until then. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch a cold.”

Johnny laughs. “I’ll be fine. Come take my picture.” He walks out into the snow-covered street, tilting his head back to the sky, arms held out. The streetlight just down the road casts Johnny and the snow in a silver light, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that you’d be crazy not to take a photo, so you pull out your phone and start taking pictures of him.

This photoshoot goes on for several minutes before you pause to check a photo you just took, and for your efforts of trying to be a good photographer, you get a snowball right to the shoulder. Johnny’s laugh is loud in the muted silence of the falling snow, and he only laughs louder when you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and duck down to form a snowball of your own.

The snow fight lasts until you’re both pink-cheeked, sniffling in the cold air, and neither of you can feel your fingertips anymore.

“I’m t-too cold to keep this g-going.” Johnny laughs and shivers, tucking his hands into his armpits as he walks toward you.

“I - I should get going anyway.” Your teeth chatter together. “I still need to get home, and it’s late.”

“Come up for c-coffee,” Johnny suggests, his eyes lingering on you and the snow caught in your hair, wreathing your face. “You’re clearly tired and cold. You need some coffee.”

Damn your heart and Johnny’s good intentions. You follow him back up to the dorm, and while you shuck off your coat and wet shoes and damp socks, Johnny starts making you both some coffee. And minutes later, you’re still shivering as you clasp a warm mug between both of your hands, sitting next to Johnny while he swipes through your camera roll to check out the photos of him you’d just taken.

You know that you should leave. It’s not appropriate for you to just be hanging out at the dorm. You should put your coat and shoes back on, take the coffee to go, and head home so you can get some sleep before you have to work tomorrow. Just as you’re about to say something along those lines, your phone buzzes against the table and Johnny makes a soft, oh.

“What?” You lean closer, sitting the mug down on the table.

“It’s a weather alert.” Johnny looks up at you, and for a moment neither of you speak or move or breathe. You’re so close together right now. You can see all of the little water droplets stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes from the snow. You can smell the coffee on his breath and something a little sweet too. But then Johnny snaps his mouth closed and leans back a little, just putting some distance between you and him.

He clears his throat, then says, “It says the roads are really bad, that it’s just going to get worse. You should probably just stay here tonight, and I feel like you’re going to argue with that, but honestly, it’s for your own safety. Roads are dangerous, plus you’re already cold and tired. That’s a bad combination. You’re just going to have to be back here in a few hours to pick us up anyway since hyung is gone.”

You’d forgotten about that. The manager that normally stays at the dorm with them is gone for the week. That’s why you had to be the one to take Taeyong to his solo schedule, and why you were going to have to be up earlier than normal for work tomorrow. Maybe Johnny has a good point.

Johnny looks away from you, back down at your phone, and he swipes away the notification, then makes a little frown.

You look down as well, and there you see that your phone has gone back to the screen showing all of your photos, and there, just barely visible at the top of the screen, is a photo you’d taken of yourself in the Cinderella costume on the night of the Halloween party.

Johnny inhales and the silence as you wait for his exhale seems to last an eternity.

“You were--”

You push back from the table, already reaching to pull your shoes back onto your feet, forgetting entirely about your wet socks. “I’d really better leave.”

You’re halfway to the door, hopping on one foot, struggling to get your second foot into it’s boot, when Johnny loops his hand at your elbow, helping to steady you as you’d nearly just tipped over onto your face.

“Please don’t leave.” He pleads.

You look up at him. Your foot thumps heavily down onto the ground. “Johnny.... please. I shouldn’t stay here, I could get in trouble with the company.”

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them before. “Please stay. It’s dangerous out there, I’ve said that already. If anyone has a problem with you staying here overnight for your own safety, then I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make the others vouch too.” His hand slides from your elbow down to your wrist, holding loosely now that you don’t seem to be in such a rush to leave. A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips. “And anyway, Cinderella, you’re supposed to leave a shoe behind, not your wet socks.”

You roll your eyes, but you smile as well. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“That you’re the Cinderella I’ve been looking for for months now?” Johnny’s hand slips even lower on your wrist until his fingers are just clasping your hand. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I had so much fun talking with you that night, and after we left I realized I hadn’t even found out who you were.”

You shiver now that your feet are back inside your wet shoes.

Johnny clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take your shoes off. You’re staying. Go on. Sit right there.” He points at the chair beside the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare leave.”

His voice is so commanding, you wouldn’t dare leave now. He walks out of the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a change of clothes for you from his own closet.

“I know it’s your job to worry about us,” he says, holding out the clothes to you. “But please let me take care of you too. Don’t catch a cold. You can go shower in the bathroom off my room, put these on. You’re staying here tonight.”

You nod, accepting the sweater and slick basketball shorts.

When you emerge from the shower several minutes later, feeling much more thoroughly warmed, the lights in the dorm have all been turned off, but Johnny’s sitting on the sofa now with his phone lighting up his face. It’s very, very late. He looks as if he could nod off right there, but as you walk closer to him, he blinks up at you. A smile breaks across his otherwise sleepy expression.

“What?” You ask, sinking down onto the sofa with him. There’s a blanket draped over the back, and Johnny immediately pulls it down over your shoulders. You clasp the edges of it together in front of you. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you feeling feverish or something?” You lift a hand and immediately check his forehead with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t feel warm.

Johnny, still smiling, reaches up to lightly bat away your hand as he sighs and rests his head against the cushiony back of the sofa, staring at you. “No, like.... It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You gave them to me.” You reply, amused at the dopey look on his face.

“I know.” Johnny whispers. “You just look really good in them.”

Your heart flutters in the way that you know you shouldn’t let it. This is Johnny. You’re his manager. This is inappropriate to be feeling this way about him. It’s definitely inappropriate to be sitting on a sofa in the dark with him, wearing his clothes, having just showered in his shower using his shampoo and body wash. But it feels good.

You lean your head against the sofa’s back too, draw your knees up toward your chest, and you look right back at Johnny in the same way he’s looking at you. You whisper, “You should go to bed. We all have to be up in a few hours.”

He bites his bottom lip and then stretches out a risky hand to touch yours. When you don’t pull away or tell him not to, Johnny keeps going, turning your hand over, pulling it into his lap. He touches your palm, caresses your fingers, treating you like you’re fragile and delicate like a little princess.

“Johnny,” you whisper a few moments later when he’s still just holding your hand, making no effort to go to bed. “Go.”

“There’s so much snow out there.” He says after another few seconds. “There’s no way that we’ll still have our schedules tomorrow. By the time morning really comes, we’re going to be buried in. I was looking at the weather while you were showering, and it’s not showing any sign of stopping before at least tomorrow night.”

“Banking on your schedule being cancelled doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to bed.” Your hand shakes slightly as you lift it, trembling with the risky nature of what you do next. Johnny’s hair is soft and his face is pleasantly warm as you push a few loose strands away from his face.

Johnny exhales at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing his skin. “Come to bed with me. Haechan’s not here. He’s upstairs tonight.”

You noticed that as you crept into Johnny’s room to use that bathroom. Both of the beds were empty.

It’s tempting to give in, to follow him into that bedroom and let the door close behind you as you get into bed with him. You’re sure that sharing a bed with Johnny would be very warm and comforting in this snowy cold night. But you can’t.

“Johnny.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly. “I can’t. I’m your manager, and it just.... I could get in trouble.”

“You’re still shivering from the cold,” he argues, “Basically hypothermic. I’m just trying to keep you healthy, trying to save you from freezing. No one would know but us. If the others ask questions, I’ll make excuses.” He smiles, and that almost does it for you.

You shake your head, close your eyes, turn your head away from him so you’re not faced with the temptation. “No. I’m serious. You should go to bed. I’ll stay right here. Just here.” You pat the sofa. “I’ll be comfy and this blanket’s warm.”

“Fine.” Johnny sighs, and he stands up, still holding your hand. “But don’t think that you can sneak out, Cinderella. Okay?”

You squeeze his hand lightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Johnny.”

He leans in so quickly that there’s no time for you to even protest before he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. And then he’s gone, vanishing into his bedroom as you sit frozen on the sofa, looking after him.

It takes a long time to fall asleep after that. Just you lying there in the dark with the blanket tugged up to your chin, listening to all of the unfamiliar sounds of the dorm, watching the snow drift by outside the window, shivering in the chill air.

After nearly an hour of silence and cold and overthinking, you sit up, gather the blanket around your shoulders, and you tiptoe across the living room to the door of Johnny’s bedroom.

When you reach the door, you stand there in hesitation, your knuckles hovering just inches from the door. You’re being silly. Ridiculous. You’re putting the future of your career in jeopardy by just standing here before his doorway and contemplating going inside. You shift your weight uncertainly, drop your hand to your side, consider turning back and walking to the sofa, but before you can move, the door swings open and you’re faced with Johnny’s chest.

You lift your gaze slowly to his face.

“I could almost hear you thinking through the door,” he says with a smile, and then he steps aside, “Why don’t you come in?”

“It’s just cold out there,” you mumble as you step inside, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I was going to ask if you had another blanket.”

Johnny hums in a way that tells you that he doesn’t buy your lie one bit. He closes the door behind him, his back braced against it as he faces you. “I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been my Cinderella.” He shakes his head, gaze wandering over the shadowy shape of you.

His room is dark but your eyes are adjusted just enough that you can see him fairly well in the faint light coming in through the window. So you can see as he pushes away from the door, as he steps toward you. Your body tingles in anticipation, your fingertips go numb so you curl them into fists in your blanket, and Johnny stops right in front of you.

“It’s well past midnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. “The ball is ended, the magic spell is worn off, and you’re still just as beautiful and fascinating and enchanting as you were that night.” His hands come up to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers tucking underneath. Your grip on the blanket loosens even as Johnny starts to move the blanket.

It falls away, pooling at your feet.

“Johnny.”

His thumb brushes along your jawline. Your body feels on fire, your fingers burn with the desire to touch him too. So you do, curling your fingers at his hips, his skin warm under yours, and Johnny takes a shuffling step just a bit closer to you, his bare toes bumping against yours.

“Johnny,” you repeat his name, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “Kiss me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask him again. Johnny leans in and catches your lips in a kiss. His palm rests against the side of your neck, his thumb still stroking at your jaw. When you try to press closer, to deepen the kiss, Johnny backs away.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, clenching your hands at his sides.

Johnny chuckles, dipping forward to kiss your forehead. And then he kisses you again. He takes a step back, you follow, and another, and then he’s sinking down onto his bed, his hands moving to your hips to guide you to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as you do.

Making out with Johnny Suh is certainly not what you imagined you’d be doing tonight when you brought Taeyong home from his schedule, but here you are, sitting in his lap in his bed, his hands on your hips, and your mouth on his.

“Wait,” he mumbles, pulling back momentarily. “Let me put some music on or something.”

You don’t want to move from his lap, but you let him lean away, reaching back across his bed toward the pillows to grab his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments, and then music—soft enough to not wake anyone but just loud enough to mask any sounds the two of you may make—begins to play over his Bluetooth speakers.

As Johnny sits back up, leaving his phone tucked beneath his pillow, you admire the sight of him. His abs. His chest. His arms.

You’ve seen Johnny shirtless before in dressing rooms, for photo shoots and video shoots. But seeing him like this, in the half light of his bedroom with the tingling reminder of his lips on yours, is a completely different experience.

Like a magnet, he finds you again. His mouth on yours, kiss unrestrained under the cover of the music, letting out tiny little moans as he kisses you. Each sound brings a smile to your lips, and after a few moments, you’re grinning into the kiss, twisting your fingers into his hair, and Johnny smiles as he fits his hands under your borrowed sweatshirt, his fingers chilly on your heated waist and belly.

His fingers shift higher and higher, and your breath hitches as he caressed your breast.

“Alright?” He murmurs, giving you a moment to answer while he kisses the corner of your mouth, skimming his lips over your jaw, down your throat.

You shiver, twisting your fingers a little more tightly in his hair, shifting just that much closer to him. You can feel every inch of him against you, your body burns and tingles, your heart racing in your chest.

“So good,” you moan softly, tugging lightly on his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

Johnny smiles into the kiss, his thumb drifting attentively over your nipple. Slowly he eases backwards until he’s flat on his back and you lie against his chest, still just kissing him and yearning to feel his hands touching you everywhere, not just your breast. You shiver against him again, and Johnny is gentle as he rolls you under him, as he tugs the blankets up over your bodies.

“Still cold, Cinderella?” He teases, his nose bumping against your cheek.

You push a section of his hair back behind his ear, spend a few seconds lingering there, your thumb against his face. He’s so handsome, and you being here beneath him in his bed, it’s unreal. Like a dream. Like a fairytale Cinderella moment you never thought you’d have because he’s an SM Prince, and who are you? Hardly any better than a servant.

Johnny shifts to the side, looking down at you. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression.” He lifts a finger and traces the furrow between your eyebrows.

“I’m just thinking how I don’t belong here.” You sigh, looking away to the window. Your hand is on his arm and you absentmindedly stroke over his sunflower tattoo, mirroring the movements of his thumb moving back and forth on your waist beneath the sweatshirt.

Johnny’s lips touch against your throat, pulling a sigh from your lips, to which he asks, “What do you mean you don’t belong here? And don’t tell me again that it’s because you’re a manager.”

But that’s exactly why.

“Stay here. With me.” Johnny withdraws his hand from beneath your sweatshirt. “If you feel like this is moving too fast, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. Just sleep.”

He moves back an inch or two, just as much as his narrow twin bed will allow, but you don’t want him to go far. You scoot closer again, still gripping his arm. Johnny smiles at that. You sink your head onto the pillow, look up at him. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Johnny brings his hand up, tracing his knuckles lightly along your cheek in a way that makes your heart pound and your toes and fingertips tingle in delight, in the need for reciprocation, to touch him and hold him too. But you bring your hands up to your chest, clench them into tight fists inside the sleeves of the sweater, will yourself to not touch him because if you do, you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from going further.

“You promise you won’t run away after I close my eyes?” Johnny asks.

“I promise.” You watch as Johnny stands up from the bed, and he hesitates then for a moment, looking down at you, his hands on his hips. You think, for a moment, that he’s about to tell you goodnight and sleep in Haechan’s bed instead. But he takes a deep breath, his thumbs tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants.

“So, normally, I do sleep in my underwear. I get hot at night, so it’s just a lot more comfortable for me.” He explains, glancing away as he admits this. You have a feeling that he might actually normally sleep naked, but given that you’ve both agreed to draw the line at making out and some light touching tonight, being naked in bed with you might be a bit more than you wanted.

You appreciate his unspoken question, a request for you to consent to him stripping to his underwear to sleep in bed with you. But it’s his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment where you still feel you don’t entirely belong. You’re the intruder here. And besides--

“I like to sleep in my underwear too,” you tell him. “So it works out.”

Beneath the blanket, you shimmy easily out of the silky basketball shorts Johnny had lent you, and as you drop them out over the side of the bed, you watch Johnny swallow, his throat bobbing even as he smiles a little. You watch too as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of his pants, and then he’s pushing them down, kicking them off, slipping back into the narrow bed with you.

You keep the sweater on, but the bare skin of your legs, from toe to hip feel so free beneath the sheets, and when Johnny’s knee knocks into yours, you feel it from the point of contact all the way through your body. You’re hyper-aware of him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone else probably.

And then you lift your leg a little, draping it over one of his so your knee rests between both of his. You prop yourself on your side a bit, a hand tucked under the pillow. Johnny faces you too.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment you were listening to the music softly playing still from the speakers, to the even sound of Johnny breathing. And then you’re woken by the sound of your phone ringing while the sky outside is still a dim shade of gray.

Your phone’s in the pocket of the shorts on the floor, so you fumble around for a moment before finally fishing them out of the pocket. You stab at the button to answer the call, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

Johnny shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your belly where the sweatshirt has ridden up through the night. His thumb touches the lacy edge of your panties. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, on listening to whoever’s interrupted your sweet sleep so early in the morning.

“I’ve got some good news.” It’s your boss, the one who makes all of the big calls. “Schedules are cancelled for the day, that’s the official news. The city’s snowed in, so you can stay home today.”

You can’t believe Johnny was right about that. You’ve never had a day where you heard of their schedules being cancelled because of the weather like this, but you accept it, thank him for calling to let you know, and when you end the call, you lie there in the silent darkness of the bedroom.

At some point in the night, the music has ended. It must be very early, with the sky still so dark outside the window, but even in the half-light you can still see snowflakes drifting by.

Johnny’s fingers twitch on your belly, his pinky finger stroking along the top edge of your panties. You turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are still closed, but you can tell that he’s awake.

“Who was that?” He asks after a few moments, his voice soft and rough at the same time, drenched with sleep.

“You were right. The day’s schedules are cancelled.” You lay your hand over his. You’re half-tempted to move it just because it’s driving you to distraction, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop touching you like this.

“Mm, perfect.” Johnny opens one eye to look at you. “Now we can just sleep for the rest of the morning. Stay in bed.”

You want that. There’s nothing you want more right now than to stay here in bed with Johnny. “I should probably go let the other boys know. Tell them to turn off their alarms. To stay inside today where it’s warm.”

The tip of his pinky makes it just beneath the edge of your panties. Your nipples are hard, and you’re glad you’re wearing the sweatshirt so he can’t tell how just this tiny touch is affecting you so greatly. But it’s something in the way he’s looking at you right then--his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth, his eyes on your parted lips--that tells you that somehow he already knows how aroused you are.

You almost close your thighs, squeeze your legs together to do something about that burning need rising between your legs. But your one leg is still draped over Johnny’s, your calf against his. And when you move it just a little, the friction of your skin against his has Johnny breathing more deeply.

There’s a buzz running under your skin, zipping through your veins, and in the moment you forget everything else but that feeling and Johnny making you feel it.

Your hand covers his on your belly, and you apply just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingers slide so eagerly into your panties.

His breath sounds unsteady, and you’re sure yours does too.

“I’m gonna be so honest right now,” he tells you, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so hard, baby. The second you made that little whimper, shit, I felt lightheaded.” You don’t know what whimper he’s talking about, but you don’t care. His fingertips are edging lower and lower inside your panties and in a second he’ll be touching your clit and that’s all you want right now. You almost buck up into his touch.

You grip his wrist before he can, and Johnny freezes. “We don’t have any music,” you tell him.

Johnny smiles. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep quiet then, won’t you?”

“Guess you should kiss me again then.” You reply, and Johnny’s only too pleased to satisfy that request.

The moment his mouth is on yours, he’s dipping his fingers lower, his middle finger touching your clit, and he gasps lightly as he feels the heat of your wetness coating his fingers. You can’t believe you’re doing this with Johnny.

He rolls closer, and as he does you can feel his erection against your thigh.

“You want me to finger you, baby?” His words flow over your lips, swallowed right down by your eagerness. You nod. “I want to hear you say it.”

A new wave of heat bursts in your belly at Johnny’s dominant tone. “I want your fingers, Johnny.”

He smiles as he kisses you now, pressing his long middle finger inside you in a way that would have you loudly gasping except for his mouth sealed over yours. Johnny curls his finger just right, his palm smoothly moving against your clit as he thrusts his finger inside you, soon adding a second then a third.

You’re openly panting and moaning into his mouth as he fucks you on his fingers. His other arm is wrapped around your back, bracing you against him as he works you quickly toward an orgasm. His erection is against your thigh, and occasionally you notice him grinding against you, thrusting forward to help with what he needs. But most of his attention is on you, making you feel good.

It’s still some time before dawn when Johnny brings you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Your thighs close around his arm, his fingers still pumping inside you, and you bite his tongue as you cum, and that just makes him moan.

You’re still shaking from the ecstasy when you break the kiss to drop your head to his shoulder, your breath coming out in shaky puffs.

Johnny kisses your forehead, his damp fingers pull out, slipping out of your panties to rest against your thigh, the other hand strokes your lower back, a relaxing weight keeping you resting against him. You try to move a hand down, wanting to touch him too, but Johnny makes a noise.

“You don’t have to.” His damp fingers close around your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still hard.” You raise your knee a little so your thigh brushes against where his dick is still full in his underwear.

His eyes flutter for a moment, his hips grinding forward.

You lift a hand to touch his hair, tugging lightly to bring his lips to yours as you tilt your head back. “Let me make you feel good, too, Johnny.”

Johnny slides his body over yours smoothly, his body bracketed perfectly by your thighs. You tangle your arms behind his neck, kissing him like your life depends on it as he grinds against you through your panties.

You can feel him very clearly now. Every inch of him. You wish he was inside you, stretching you wide open, filling you deeply with his length. You kiss him and trace all of those desires against his tongue. Your heart pounds with that desire, breath racing and your nails rake down his back as he picks a good rhythm. You’re going to cum again, you already know it.

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles into the kiss. “I wish I could cum inside you.”

“Then fuck me.” You gasp back. “Where are condoms?”

His lips slide from yours, over your jaw to your throat. He groans. “In the drawer over there.” But you can tell from the tightness in his voice, from the broken staccato beat of his movements that he’s close, that he probably won’t be able to hold back much longer. Why wait? Why risk putting a pause on this if it might just ruin his orgasm?

You shake your head, tangle your fingers in his hair, guide his lips back to yours. Next time. He can fuck you next time. Right now you just want him to cum; you want him to get you to cum a second time.

A hoarse groan builds in the back of his throat, and Johnny thrusts one last time before he freezes, his cock twitching in his underwear, right against you. You can feel the wet heat of him spreading through the material right against you, and you buck your hips up, chasing your own orgasm even if it means grinding against Johnny’s sensitive cock as he comes down from his high.

Johnny’s mouth feels so soft against yours when you kiss this time as your orgasm crashes through you. Lazy kisses, bodies intertwined. Johnny doesn’t move from between your thighs, just holding himself above you, kissing you slowly and softly.

Morning is breaking outside, though with the heavy winter weather, there’s not too much of a difference visually.

Eventually Johnny moves away, his hand slides up under your sweatshirt, just touching your bare skin as you both tuck yourself against each other and catch your breath.

It’s still early. You could roll over to fall back asleep, but even as you consider that, you know it’s too late, you’re already wide awake. Johnny knows it too, so after a handful of moments, he kisses you and then sits up.

“I’m going to shower.” He stands out of bed, tugging uncomfortably at his underwear. You can see the damp spot spread over the front of them, and you hide your smile in his pillow. You made him cum in his pants. It’s cute. You close your eyes and replay that moment, Johnny pressed against your like that, the way he’d moved, the way he’d sounded as he came.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone. The bathroom door is closed, only a thin sliver of light beneath it and the gentle patter of the shower turning on indicating that Johnny’s behind it.

The dorm is still thick with the sound of sleep, so you’re quiet as you redress and creep out of Johnny’s room. You stand to look out the window in the living room. The world outside is covered in thick snow that continues to fall. Your breath fogs the glass.

Taeyong’s the first one up, stumbling out of his room in just shorts and a tshirt, shivering as he walks into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, and when he turns around, he spots you and nearly drops the glass. He swears viciously before realizing it’s you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covers his mouth. “Did you stay here last night?”

You nod. “The weather got worse and I was really tired, so Johnny insisted that I stay.” Taeyong makes a face that you can’t quite decipher before he hides it. “Your schedules are cancelled for the day, by the way. We’re snowed in.”

Taeyong nods. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He disappears back into his bedroom, and once more the dorm falls silent.

A shiver works its way down your spine as you yawn. You’re so tired, but you know you can’t go back to sleep, so you go make yourself a strong cup of coffee, watch the snow and think. You think about how what you did with Johnny was a mistake--it was great and you loved it and you can’t truly bring yourself to regret it, but it was a mistake nonetheless because if it gets out, if this becomes serious or ends badly, then it will reflect horribly on your career, and all of your dreams will be flushed away.

You want Johnny. You love the way he makes you feel. But you know that you shouldn’t indulge.

And for the next several minutes you sway back and forth on that dangerous line of thought--you want him, but you shouldn’t want him. Maybe you should just leave today, go home, and the next time you see him pretend that the events of last night and this morning never happened. Maybe he’ll forget you’re the Cinderella he spent months searching for.; maybe that was all just a fun game for him anyway, and he’ll lose interest now that he’s found you.

By the time the coffee finishes brewing, you hear the sound of movement in Johnny’s room as he leaves the shower. You pour yourself a mug, another one for him, and then you knock carefully (to not spill the coffees) on his door before opening it.

Johnny’s sitting in bed again, but when he sees you, he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Feel better?” you ask him, standing there beside his bed as you offer him one of the coffees. He nods and sips at his coffee, and you look over at the window again, at the steadily falling snow. "I guess I still need to figure out some way to get home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs into his coffee. “You can stay here. Stay right here.” He lifts his face out of his mug just long enough to grab your hand and pull you down to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let go of your hand.

You say his name in a warning tone, but it just makes him smile.

“What?” His thumb rubs gently over your knuckles. “Cinderella kept running away from the Prince because she was scared of her stepmother and stepsisters, right? Well, the Prince found her and they lived happily ever after. I like you. I liked you before I knew you were my Cinderella from Halloween. Finding that out last night or this morning or whatever, that’s just a bonus. I like you in case what we did earlier didn’t make that obvious, and if you like me too, well we can find a way to be together even if our wicked company tries their best to keep it from happening.”

You feel very warm all of a sudden, possibly its the coffee or the bulky sweater Johnny had let you borrow, or it could very well be that he’s confessing to you. Confessing in such a cheesy manner, too. He has feelings for you. For you, not for the Cinderella fantasy version of you.

You push the sleeves of the sweater up your arms, trying to cool down some.

“Johnny.” You know that nothing good can come of what he’s suggesting.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he says softly. “Don’t say it like it’s a no. Don’t say it like you want me but you can’t. We already started down this path, so don’t turn your back on this, please. Say my name like you agree with me, like you like me too.”

“Johnny.” This time you put your longing for him behind those two syllables. You try your best to make it sound like a yes.

You want Johnny. You want this to work. And if he believes in it, then you want to too. But you won’t let this affect your dream. You’ll have Johnny and you’ll have your dream job too. You can figure it out as you go.

Johnny grins. “Yeah, that sounds much better.” He takes a drink of his coffee again, watching you over the lip of the mug, then says, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“Coffee is hardly breakfast, Johnny. Please tell me that you know that.” You groan, prying the coffee mug out of his hands.

He shrugs and grins, watching as you sit his mug and your own on his bedside table. And then he reaches for you, pulling you into his lap so you’re face-to-face. Johnny kisses you slowly, deeply, and when he pulls away, he murmurs, “All I know for now is that you’re my mysterious Cinderella, you’re wearing my sweater, I can still smell you in my sheets, and we have no plans for the rest of the day. If you’d like, I’d love to make you cum again.”

Oh God, you think to yourself, what have you gotten yourself into?

a/n: so months and months ago back when I was accepting requests based off a prompt list, someone sent me a prompt for Johnny to use both “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” and “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” and thus this was born

I wouldn’t have taken so long to write this, and I’m really really sorry to the original requester (especially since I know I’ve messaged them and let them know it would take a while, but damn I don’t think either of us thought it would take this long, and I checked and they haven’t been active on their blog in a while, so now I feel bad) but I got distracted with writing the next part of the poly series (which was Adore You) and then forgot about this for a brief time, and then once I remembered I was deep into working on the poly finale, so I had to focus on it. But now I’ve finished that! And I’ve finished this too, so if the original requester is still around and sees this then I’m sorry it took so long please forgive me! I would tag them, but I’m not entirely sure if they wanted to be tagged in this or not!

#johnny smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh smut #johnny fanfic #damn remember way back in the day when I could write and post something that was under 10k?#when was the last time I did that and didn't call it just a drabble?

1K notes · View notes

holykillercake · 4 years ago

Text

Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got.

highlight: ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end!

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them. Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game.

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one.

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams.

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him.

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms.

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him.

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted.

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it.

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen.

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked.

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying.

Charming, loving, but still annoying.

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat.

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal.

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools.

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women.

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job.

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette.

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free.

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded.

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile.

Oh, how you love this cook.

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes.

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts.

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile.

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would.

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did.

You would always notice. And you had an idea why.

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple. The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess.

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created.

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy.

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨

¨It´s me!¨

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨

He looked back at you, confused. Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still.

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression.

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy.

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.

Did he get upset because of your lie?

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves.

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you.

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too.

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love.

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore.

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron.

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger.

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

184 notes · View notes

post-academic · 2 years ago

Text

Using Quotations in a College Paper (Lit)

Many of my students struggled to find appropriate quotes for their literary analysis papers, so I created this guide to help them. Text under the cut, if anyone is interested.

How To Talk About Literature: Using Quotations

For your formal papers, you will have to know how to use and interpret quotations effectively. The following information will tell you how to select quotations from a text and how to use them in a way that makes for a strong paper.

Selecting a Quotation

You should always choose quotes that support the argument you’re trying to make. If you don’t have an argument yet, you can use quotes that interest you to lead you to a main point, but once you have an argument, you should quote only the portions of the text that are specifically relevant to your point. For example, if you’re planning to talk about magic in “Beauty and the Beast,” you shouldn’t include quotations where no magic is mentioned or alluded to.

Using a Quotation to Prove Your Point

Your quotation should not be used to show plot points:

Incorrect: “Beauty and the Beast” as a tale shows that magic is necessary to achieve happy endings. De Beaumont writes, “The fairy waved her wand, and everyone there was transported to the great hall of the prince’s realm” (de Beaumont, 42).

The above quotation doesn’t add anything to the point the author is trying to make, it only shows that magic exists in the universe. There’s nothing in the quote that shows that magic is necessary or that there’s a happy ending in place – just that there’s a transportation.

On the other hand, this passage is a good example of using a quotation to prove a point:

Correct: Angela Carter creates a world in which the townspeople are superstitious, which causes the reader to question whether there is really magic in the story. Carter writes, “When they discover a witch – some old woman whose cheeses ripen when her neighbours’ do not, another old woman whose black cat, oh sinister! follows her about all the time, they strip the crone, search for marks, for the supernumerary nipple her familiar sucks. They soon find it. They stone her to death” (Carter, 108).

See how in the quote above, the quote shows that there’s a possibility that the “magic” might be something mundane or coincidence?

Analyzing Your Quotations

It is not enough to simply include a quotation – you must analyze it as well. To do this, you can include close readings that help support your main point.

What is Close Reading?

Close reading is the careful, sustained interpretation of a passage of text. Close reading emphasizes close attention to individual words, syntax, and the order in which sentences and ideas unfold.

How to Perform a Close Reading

Step 1 – Understanding

While understanding your quotation is key for beginning to know how to talk about it, summary and paraphrase are not adequate methods of analysis when writing a paper.

You should make sure you understand the quote you have chosen, but you should not include a full summary in your papers.

Incorrect: Chaucer’s “Wife of Bath’s Tale” begins with establishing the presence of magic in England. The text says, “When good King Arthur ruled in ancient days (a king that every Briton loves to praise) this was a land brim-full of fairy folk” (Chaucer, 281). In this passage, Chaucer tells the reader that fairies were plentiful when King Arthur was alive.

This “analysis” simply summarizes the quotation, which means it is not an effective analysis at all. It’s ok to include such a summary or paraphrase if you’re going to go on to the next step, but if you stop here, your analysis will be weak.

Step 2 – Noticing

Examine small-scale details in a text (like word choice and punctuation) rather than large-scale features (like plot points and character profiles). These small details may seem unimportant to the plot as a whole, but remember: all writers make choices, and it is your job to determine why those small minutia are important.

Example: Chaucer’s “Wife of Bath’s Tale” reads, “But no one now sees fairies any more. For now the saintly charity and prayer of holy friars seem to have purged the air” (Chaucer, 281).

Why might Chaucer have decided to use the word “purged?” If we look up “purge” in the dictionary, we can find the following definition: “rid (someone) of an unwanted feeling, memory, or condition, typically giving a sense of cathartic release.” If we look of synonyms for the word “purge,” we get words like “cleanse,” “clear,” “purify,” “wash,” “shrive,” and “absolve.”

These definitions raise some interesting questions: Are fairies and magic supposed to be thought of as diseases or something dirty? Why might they be unwanted? Since “purge” can also mean “absolve,” are the friars somehow cleansing England of sin by getting rid of the fairies? What is that sin?

Step 3 - Explaining

The goal in this step is not to read the author’s mind or to discover why he or she might have made particular choices; instead, the aim is to reveal the effects of those choices on the work as a whole.

Example: In Angela Carter’s short story, “The Tiger’s Bride,” the narrator’s maid is a wind-up automaton that is dressed up as a soubrette. Carter writes the following description about the automaton’s actions: “My maid halted, bowed; a split seam at the side of her bodice protrudes from the handle of a key… This clockwork twin of mine halted before me, her bowels churning out a settecento minuet, and offered me the bold carnation of her smile” (Carter, 60). In this passage, the automaton is able to move only because of the “key,” which someone else must wind up. Furthermore, the narrator describes the maid as her “twin,” suggesting that they share something in common. The narrator feels like she, too, is an automaton, not an actual human being, because just as the maid must rely on others in order to move, so must the narrator rely on men in order to make her way through society. This passage contributes to the overall theme of the story: that women are not seen as “real people” by society, only objects to be used.

Using Multiple Quotations to Build on Your Main Point

For most papers, you will be required to write more than one paragraph. The above paragraph about “The Tiger’s Bride” is a good one, but in order to be turned into a paper, it needs more quotations.

After reading “The Tiger’s Bride,” you know that the ending of the story flips this theme on its head: the narrator exhibits her own agency and breaks free from the confines society has placed on her by turning into a tiger.

Consider the following quote from the short story: “The valet asked politely when he should prepare the carriage, as if he did not doubt that I would leave with my booty at the first opportunity while my maid, whose face was no longer the spit of my own, continued bonnily to beam” (Carter, 65).

Wait a minute – didn’t the narrator just say earlier that the two were “twins?” What has changed?

Example Analysis:

Carter suggests that a physical change has come over the narrator as a result of her learning to embrace her own agency and sexuality. The change in attitude is so prominent that it manifests in the appearance of the automaton’s face, as well as her own, which demonstrates the idea that inner thoughts, feelings, and attitudes can be seen on the outside. This comparison with the maid foreshadows the narrator’s transformation into a tiger at the end of the story, since her full acceptance of her sexuality causes her to adopt the appearance of an animal, thus equating “animal lust” with a literal “animal form.”

5 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( ROSERAIE. )

What you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you two apart. It was your love that would be your demise.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. my take on a hanahaki!au. pretty heavy on the angst. general.

tags / warnings. mention of minor character death, breaking up, soulmates, angst, unrequited love, sick character (hanahaki), bittersweet, non-idol.

wc. 3.2k

beta reader(s). my forever queens, @hobi-gif @snackhobi! you both bring such hope and joy (hahahaha) to my life!!! and of course, the loveliest angels @joheun-saram, @pars-ley, and @ditttiii for reading through and giving me excellent feedback!

author note. this is a part of @goldenclosetnetwork‘s 23 | jungkook’s birthday project. it’s my first time writing a hanahaki au so... i have a lot of headcanons for it but i’m not sure whether it all came across in the story. 😰 eep. anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback. i would love and appreciate it! most importantly: happy birthday, kook! 💖

Your parents were a young match. Together from the tender age of eleven, they’d shared pieces of themselves readily, trading secrets in tree houses and blanket forts. Nothing was held back - a childhood crush brought to life by playful ribbing and sugar-coated snacks. Where your mother went, so did your father; she was his light as much as he was her shadow. Two halves of a destined whole, earnest and pure. Friends first.

It made perfect sense when they shared their dreams - the same one they’d had since they could remember - and it was identical: swimming in the ocean with a faceless friend, families on their respective four and three-week long road trips. They’d recognised each other immediately, felt the click the moment they stepped off the camper van. Your father had called it cooties; your mother said butterflies.

It didn’t matter that they’d never seen each other’s faces until that moment. There was the spark. Recognition. The rest was history.

Jungkook’s parents have been soulmates since the early 2000s. His father had lost his wife - his first soulmate - exactly one year prior to their meeting. He didn’t have his recurring dream until a fortnight before he met his wife. Hadn’t expected it, either. He’d been talking about his day in his local support group (it never got easier, he’d discovered) and he’d mentioned it in passing, glossing over the details of the vivid new pictures painted against his eyelids. His second wife - his second chance - had attended after losing her son. A complete chance. Serendipitous.

It wasn’t always simple, though. The heartbreaking endings came just as often as the happy.

There were people who lost their soulmates before even meeting them. They’d never know they’d lost their first one until the next dream came - if it came. If they were lucky enough.

There were message boards and dating sites. Places people stripped themselves bare and spilt their secrets to the world. Desperate for love, they detailed their dreams and hoped that their other half was somewhere out there, reading those same words.

Some, though, never found their special someone. Life came at you fast and from all directions - or it never came at all, caught somewhere across the globe in the form of someone you’d never meet. Those were the most painful circumstances, as if fate was cheating the system. Here’s a love you know you have, but that you’ll never experience. It was terribly cruel.

(But when was life ever fair?)

There were stories about those that never found their puzzle piece and how it felt, whether it hurt. Most said it was a quiet ache, something you never really noticed until you thought too closely about it, like a scar that had healed over or a loved one gone a long time. Painful in an explicable way and only - luckily, miserably - softened by ignorance.

Others spoke about it like death, missing an integral part of themselves. It played a large part of their life, shaping and changing them with each passing day. They couldn’t fully live without their person, even if they’d never met them. It was simply the principal of the matter.

You’d never quite existed in either camp. You’d always wanted to find love but you hadn’t rushed it. You figured you’d meet your happily ever after at some point. Maybe at your work - caught between the shelves or returning an overdue book - or maybe out with your dog, walking the same route you took every day. They’d show up one day. You were sure of it.

Love had a way of surrounding you.

Your best friends - because of course the two of them would fall for each other (it was nauseating) - had found each other young too, on the grounds of the elementary school you all played on. They’d been bonded since the beginning, secrets exchanged in art class and atop monkey bars. You’d cheered them on the whole way, giddy in a way you couldn’t describe. Being around it felt like standing beneath the sun, scorching heat warming you all the way to the core. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have it for yourself (yet).

They’d come. Eventually. You felt it in your bones and later, you’d learn, in your shins.

He’d come around the corner fast as a bullet, headphones in and hood pulled over his head. You’d barely have time to avoid him, poor coordination lending itself to disaster when only one of your feet would make it out of his path of destruction.

BANG!

It was something right out of a campy romance novel. Guy goes jogging, runs headlong into his dearly beloved and nearly gives her a concussion. He feels bad for her scraped knees and falls in love with her dog. His morning runs become theirs and six weeks later, over a late night bite of contrasting gelato flavours - green tea for him, bubble gum for her - they fit the pieces together.

Jungkook’s the faceless boy you’d always dreamt of, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on your thigh. He was the one with the slick black AppleWatch and long fingers. You’d never imagined he’d be covered in ink, immaculate designs running the length of his forearm all the way back and across his shoulders. In fact, you’d never thought about tattoos at all.

You get your first and only one with him - intricate red looped around your wrists and over your pinkies. Your own, very real string of fate, sealed and signed forever in rouge.

He was your Prince Charming, your best friend, your bonafide soulmate. You’d done everything together - skydiving, snorkelling, silly photos atop the Eiffel Tower. He’d adapted to your distaste of onions and took them all, meticulously picking them out of stir fries and sauces until not a single sliver remained. You’d learnt to tolerate his unbearably fast driving, white-knuckled and silent when he’d tear around corners too fast in a car too low. You fit perfectly, filling all the spaces he could never, keeping him whole even when he was broken.

Your love was of fairy tales but it was better than that too. Real. Concrete. Solid.

Until it wasn’t.

The two of you had never had any other choice.

That’s what it feels like, at least. He’d done his best - tried every little thing he could’ve possibly imagined - and it’d all amounted to nothing. He’d gone through all the motions, explored every avenue, given everything he had. It wasn’t working. This thing he wanted with every fibre of his being, that he’d hoped for his whole life, just wasn’t working. It wasn’t for him.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, and he knows you know he means it. You can read it between every line of his expression, tucked among the neatly scrawled india ink in faded red, underlining the passages you’d written together. He is sorry. He’d never meant to do this to you, nor you to him. He’d wanted to give you it all - make all your hopes and dreams come true.

Sometimes, fate just had other plans.

Because what the two of you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you apart. It was your love that would be your demise.

And he can’t bear to hurt the one he loves.

He’d tried so hard. Really, he had. You had too, more than he ever deserved.

There was simply no other option. You’d always come up short. You weren’t the one for him - not anymore - no matter how badly you wanted to be. You weren’t the one meant for him. You’d fumble for that ledge - held so impossibly high, just barely out of reach - before falling right back to where you began. The bottom. He couldn’t stand to see you there, brought to your knees once, twice, a hundred times.

He’d lose count if not for the petals.

Little ones, at first. Tiny pieces of silk you’d found on your pillowcase, outside the shower, in your water glass. They’d been unassuming - reminders you could easily ignore.

Then they’d grown, velvet softness that made it hard to breathe, that had him rubbing soothing circles over your skin, earnest vows winding like vines around your airways. Neither of you had had any idea why it was happening. You were soulmates - bound to each other and destined since the beginning. Your love wasn’t unrequited.

“We’ll figure it out,” he’d said. Sworn. “We’ll get through this.”

Your heart had broken with each promise; his had too, differently, but in perfect tandem.

(Spring still came, steadily, with a rose garden blooming within your insides and freesias in your nose.)

It wasn’t his fault. You would never blame him, even when it was his fist that broke yours, splintered it into a million pieces that cut worse than the thorns in your lungs. You knew this was just as hard for him. He’d had to watch you wither away, even as a patchwork of flowers blossomed in the spaces he’d thought he could keep safe. He hated it - could barely take it. It kept him up all night, tears in his eyes. Even when he slept - managed it, every few days - it’d prompt him awake in a cold sweat.

If he’d known then what had changed, maybe he could’ve fixed it sooner. Maybe he could’ve saved you the heartache. (Weeks later and during a coffee break with the new girl at his startup was not how he’d expected to find his answer.)

“I love you,” you tell him, an ocean of sadness. He loves you too, more than anything, more than there are stars in the sky. He loves you with every part of himself - and yet he knows now that’s what’s causing this. He loves you, but not in the right way. Every touch he offers is wrong, leaving you bruised, broken, barely breathing. It’s a disease - a venereal infection that seeps beneath skin and bone, settling within the marrow. It changes you from the inside out, realigns your DNA until you’re mutated and miserable.

The realisation is devastating: his love causes more harm than it heals.

So he stands there now, caught in the distance between you, eyes melancholy blue. His composure is frayed, crippled beneath the weight of your circumstance. He tries to memorise your face in these last moments - the colour of your hair, the shape of your stare. How you sound in the morning - voice raspy with sleep, dust caught in your eyes. The way you hold him close and the feeling of your eyelashes against his neck in the early hours.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want to lose you, give you - this - up but he has to. He has to, for you. To give you a chance.

Even after having so little - only five short years - you were about to lose the rest of your lives.

You pack your bags - he helps, folding your favourite sweater (one of his, in truth) alongside your toiletries and undergarments - and you prepare to do the thing that you should never have to do. You sign papers, dot I’s and cross T’s, and put all your treasured memories away into cardboard boxes to never be touched again. You label them neatly and dress tape over edges; Band-Aids meant to hold together the deepest wounds.

You’re going under by anaesthetic and he’ll be here, where he has everything he wishes he could give you. A love he doesn’t deserve, within arms he wishes were yours.

He wonders whether he’ll still feel the pull once it’s done or whether his heart will stay there, tucked somewhere beneath the dug up roots. Whether it’ll be safe, undiscovered like a long lost treasure.

It’s best this way. He tells himself that - loops it on repeat until it’s the only thing he can think. It has to be better. For you, for you, for you.

He knows he’ll carry you with him forever. Like the air in his lungs, you’ll keep him going.

He’s snapped back to the present, to the small hallway of the home you’d built together. The traces of you are gone - all the photos hidden away, your row of shoes missing from beside his. It’s strangely bare. He knows it won’t last long. She’ll be here next week.

Your hand pushes against his cheek, thumb caressing along the seam of his bottom lip, right where the freckle sits. He’s a thief - a criminal, a sinner - when he dips his head, presses back into the warmth of your palm. This isn’t for him to take but he does anyway, eagerly and with deep regret.

“I love you.” Your voice cuts through all the white noise and agony - a beacon in the night, guiding him home.

He smiles, half-hearted and weak and not even his. Every part of him screams at him to beg you not to do it, to accept him for the man he is - lost and weak and sorry. He almost drops to his knees - fights tooth and nail against his aching limbs not to - and brings a hand to yours. The red threads looped around your wrists fit perfectly together, the ends of inked rope caught around your pinkies matching when his fingers slot between yours.

Don’t do this, he pleads, without words or hope.

“I’ll love you forever,” you tell him - promise like he had you. “You’ll always be the brightest star in my sky, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost cracks - seams near splitting, adhesive tearing from skin - when you return his smile and he can see how hard it is. You’re already broken, all the pieces of your puzzle in terrible disarray.

You’re trying, for him.

“I’m so sorry,” he answers, because that is kinder than an I love you that doesn’t mean what you need it to. Because you deserve better - you deserve it in the same way you mean it.

So he’ll let you leave and he’ll pray this isn’t the worst decision of his whole life.

“I’ll see you.”

He hopes so. He can’t bear the idea of losing you again. He doesn’t think even she could fix him if he had to.

“Be safe,” he whispers, in a voice that stutters your stare and shatters what little resolve you have left. He sees it in your eyes - all the crystallised parts of your composure turned to ash. He wishes he could be sorry. He’s not.

“I love you,” you repeat with an air of finality.

Jungkook does the same: “I’m sorry.”

You leave, ushered into the back of your mother’s tiny sedan. She helps you with your bags and your seatbelt, rubbing your shoulder carefully when baby’s breath slips past your lips and falls all over your lap. She meets his stare when she climbs into the driver’s seat. He tries to read her expression. Understanding? Resentment? Gratitude?

The car pulls away with a groan, disappearing down the tree-lined street. Jungkook stands in the doorway for far longer than he should.

He’s moved on - settled down with the girl of his dreams. Literally.

She’s nothing like you, sarcastic and stubborn with a staunch refusal to ever come second best. She laughs maybe a bit too loud, giving him shit when he orders in another car part. She’d eat an onion raw, if she could, and takes showers hot enough to slough the skin from her bones. They have a home together and in a year’s time, he thinks he’ll propose. He’s not in any rush, though, because he knows she’s his forever.

(Knows it, even though you’d once been that same shining star to him. He has to believe it won’t happen again. Life can’t screw someone twice, right? Lightning never strikes the same spot or something like that?)

Still, he tries to forget the feeling of you.

It isn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be. The love exists as it always has, just differently, in the palm of his hand and not the space behind his ribs. You’re his best friend and he is disgustingly, unbelievably lucky.

He’d gotten his second chance. Even if he’d once resented it, he had everything now.

You still go for your morning runs and he still changes your oil because you’d never learnt how to. His parents invite you for Sunday dinners; you’re gracious enough to decline them. You don’t see it as pity - you just don’t want to intrude. (It isn’t your place any longer.) You accept all the changes readily, without regret. You promise you’ll go by one day.

Your parents never speak to him. He doesn’t blame them. At the supermarket, on the street, in passing when he’s coming and they’re leaving - it’s radio silent.

It’s been six months and you haven’t dreamt at all. They’d hoped - prayed - that you’d find someone new after him, someone to treat you right. You don’t mind, you tell them. I’ll meet my special eventually, you say (again, again).

He wonders whether you resent them for it - their concern, perhaps a bit overbearing and offered with a heavy hand. If you do, you say nothing, playing along each time they suggest you meet another friend’s son, another junior at your father’s accounting firm. You don’t understand the sad way they watch you.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles one night, seated at the neighbourhood cafe you’d frequented on your first date. Your idea, because you loved coffee and, in your old words, this was your place. The start of it all, where he’d knocked you hard onto pavement and stolen your heart in the process.

You don’t remember it now. Not in the same way.

This is somewhere you come for their great matcha lattes, where you waste a few too many evenings when you just want to get out of the house. It isn’t the place he’d told you he loved you or where you’d resolved your first fight.

(It’d been stupid. He’d forgotten to pick up groceries for your first dinner with your parents. You’d been so stressed you’d snapped at him, carrying tension into the rest of the evening. He’d apologised with an almond croissant and your favourite green drink.)

It’s like a wall has gone up, splitting your heart in two. The part of you that’d once been Jungkook’s remains out of reach, caught behind a gate neither of you have the key to.

“For what?” You quip, a milk moustache presenting itself over the rim of your mug.

Jungkook shrugs. He can’t make you understand. “Y’know,” he mumbles into his red bean mochi bun. It sticks to his teeth and coats them in soft white flour. “Just— everything.” It’s not enough, either as an explanation or an apology. It falls terribly short, barely worthy of a participation trophy.

“It’s fine.” You say it every time, clockwork in response to the same apology he always gives - out of the blue and vague.

“No, but I’m—”

You level him with a glare. It might’ve hurt once but now it settles like a scolding from a sibling. He reminds himself this is how it should be, you there and him here - two parallel lines.

The guilt never goes away.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

538 notes · View notes

strabbyshortcake · 3 years ago

Text

the truth about snaktooth

Gramble finally tells his partners what befell him and everybody else on the island.

“Whatcha doin’, Gram?”

The screen door clatters as it shuts behind Boots. It’s a nice summer night, one of the rare ones they got with little humidity, so Gramble had left the main door open, the sound of katydids and crickets drifting through from the outdoors. He looks up from the hand towel in his paws, shoulders hunched guiltily.

There’s a large cardboard box sitting on the floor, full of bits of kitchen décor. Ceramic plates with fruit stenciled on them, prints of vintage ads for bread and desserts, towels with produce embroidered on them. All the kitschy things Boots knew he liked decorating his spaces with, and Gramble spent more time in the kitchen than either her or Piesha, with how much he enjoyed cooking.

“Oh, evenin’ Boots,” he greets her, expression softening into a smile. “You remember we talked about Lizbert and Egg visitin?”

“Yeah…?” She pads over, frowning a little at the bare spots on the walls and shelves. Boots was acquainted with the two from attending expedition reunions with Gramble, and while she made it no mystery that she disliked Lizbert’s invasive style of exploration, it was all in the past. Liz had retired from that life after the whole Snaktooth stunt to become a museum curator. “What’s the matter, they allergic to tackiness?”

Gramble laughs at her affectionate teasing. “No, well… Actually, funny you should say that. Egg’s fine, but Liz has got… I guess you could say she’s got kind of a hang-up over food imagery. And while she’s doin’ well these days, might just make her a lil’ more comfortable to not feel so surrounded, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you.” Boots nods, reaching up to take the clock off the wall. It’s a piece of painted wood in the shape of a strawberry. Nollie had made it in an art class. “Place is a little dusty, anyway.”

Together he and Boots work to mostly strip the place of any food-related decoration, leaving only a couple little accents up so the place didn’t seem too bare. Gramble sighs at the empty walls, leaning into Boots’ touch as she places a paw on his shoulder.

She and Pie had always been so understanding when he told them he couldn’t talk about what had happened on the island, but he hated to keep his loved ones in the dark. Not simply for the fact that there might still be danger lurking out there, but that he knew he could trust them, and yet, just telling them what had happened was almost as terrifying as the thought of being back there. The idea that just speaking of it would somehow make it manifest, bring it back into his life when he’d worked so hard to escape it, haunted him, but so did keeping it bottled up inside.

“…I need to tell you both what really happened,” he says quietly. “It’s been long enough. Just, after Liz and Egg are gone. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Boots blinks down at him in surprise. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The visit went well. This was the first time Lizbert and Eggabell had seen the new house and the refurbished barn, the first they’d met Cardi and Dember, and Nollie had only been a year old when they’d last come around. They’d caught up, shared stories, enjoyed Gramble’s cooking and chatted about where their lives were going and where they’d been.

After they’d waved goodbye, gotten in Eggabell’s car and driven off to see Wambus and Triffany, after the dishes had been cleared and cleaned and the kids were all in bed, Gramble sat Boots and Piesha down on the porch swing in the back while he took the rocking chair.

“I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his paws where they rested on his chest. “about what happened on Snaktooth.”

“Alright.” Pie nods slowly, leaning into Boots’ cushy side. Boots gives him an encouraging smile, rocking the swing back and forth slightly with her heel.

Gramble swallows, licking his lips. “So… Not all of what I told you was a cover-up. We did run outta food and I did almost starve to death. But… Geez, I dunno where to even start.”

“Why’d you go in the first place?” Boots asks.

“Oh, that I didn’t lie about either. My mama really did up and leave while I was at college. I went cuz… Cuz I guess I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I saw Liz on TV say she was gatherin’ people up for her team and I just… I wanted somewhere to go that wasn’t home.”

She nods solemnly, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, Snaktooth… Liz said she found somethin’ there. These creatures she was documenting. D’you… Have either of you ever heard of bugsnax?” Gramble nearly whispers the last word, even though it’s just the three of them out here, just the three of them and the crickets and fireflies, the kids sound asleep.

Piesha tilts her head, thoughtful. “Mm… Maybe a long time ago,” Pie says. “One of those things they got lots of fairy tales about. Critters made of food, right?”

“Right.” Gramble nods. “But they’re real. And please- I know how it sounds,” he stammers, even though neither of them looked skeptical. “But I swear. I saw them, I picked them up and held them, I had a whole barn full of them that Liz and Buddy caught for me. I had names for them, and… and everybody said they were the most delicious things they’d ever eaten. B-but there’s a reason for that. Sorry, lemme go back a bit and explain.

“When we got there, we thought we’d be able to farm. That was Wambus’s thing, but no matter what he tried, the crops would wither, or the bugsnax would get in and destroy them. The only thing he could grow was the sauce that grew on the island, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on. Pretty soon we ran outta food, but that wasn’t a problem for most folks. They’d just eat the bugsnax.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t?” Boots asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t want to. I already didn’t eat meat, and the snax were always so cute and friendly and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurtin’ them. So I just… didn’t. I tried to live off the sauce, and I ate dandelions and weeds, I ate damn near anything that was edible, but it was never enough.”

“That’s awful, Gram.” Boots says, her brows knitted. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Well, I… I thought about it,” Gramble wraps his arms around himself. “Even though I didn’t have nowhere to return to, I figured it might be better than starving. But it wasn’t too long after that Lizbert up and disappeared. Her and Egg, there was an earthquake and after that they never came back to town. Some folks thought they died, others thought they ran off, but without her nobody was bringin’ in bugsnax to eat and they started to eat mine, so I ran off with the rest of ‘em and that made everybody mad and I really did start to think there was nobody who cared about me but the snax and Wiggle, and… and even she was eatin’ them too, but I let her cuz I didn’t have nobody else... I was so afraid she’d leave me too that I put up with it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “So, um… I guess a couple weeks after that, Buddy finally showed up. We’d been on the island almost a year at that point. They wanted to interview Liz, figure out what happened, and they managed to get all of us back into town within a week or two. I was really doin’ poorly though.” His claws absently scratch at his belly over the scar that the rake had left, concealed beneath his fur but never fully faded. “Didn’t care much whether I lived or died. Nothin’ I tried worked, and one of the big snax I asked Buddy for nearly killed me. And then…”

Boots holds Pie’s paw between both of hers, stroking it, both of them patiently waiting for him to gather his racing thoughts. It had been so long since he’d even thought about all this, and much of the events were a haze of hunger and pain, he was amazed he could keep the basic timeline coherent.

“Then, one night… When we were all back in town, Filbo decided he wanted to throw a party. That was when everything… That’s when it all fell apart. There was an active volcano on the island, and it erupted. Eggabell suddenly showed up back in town and told us she knew where Liz was, and she and Buddy and Filbo ran off to get her while the rest of us tried to get to safety. B-but… You remember what I said before, about the bugsnax?” He lifts his gaze to the two of them.

Pie nods at him. “Yeah. They taste good, right?”

“They also…” Gramble holds his paws out, curling his fingers into fists. “They change you. Whenever you eat one, your body parts become it. I know it sounds silly, but everybody was walkin’ around with arms and legs made of strawberries and corn and cinnamon rolls and you kinda just… got used to it. I only ever ate one when I was sleepwalkin’, and I don’t even remember what it was like, but everybody else except Shelda ate ‘em all the time. You get used to it and then you start believin’ that they’re the only thing that can make you feel good anymore. Sorta like drugs, but sorta like… Wiggle used to say they inspired her, and Chandlo thought he could get stronger with them, it was whatever you wanted. I guess even I was fallin’ for it, thinkin’ they could replace my family, and I never even had to eat ‘em.

“But that’s the trick. You get dependent, but you don’t realize that… That they’re parasites. And I’m kinda fuzzy on the details, but according to Buddy, Liz was somehow stuck down in the main… meat of the hive,” Gramble brings his paws together, looking down at his intertwined fingers. “And that’s where she’d been all along, down in the darkness with all those food bugs crawlin’ all over her and into her mouth and… that’s why she’s got such a thing about food.”

“Ah…” He can’t blame Boots for looking a little numb, covering her mouth with her paw as Pie stares blankly at him. It was a lot to take in. “Yeah, I guess that’d do it.”

Gramble goes on. “They attacked us not long after Buddy and the others left, tryin’ to force themselves into our mouths, or kill us, either or. I guess they knew the jig was up, then and there. No comin’ back from that. But we all got away, in the end… And that’s what happened.”

He falls silent. The porch swing creaks slightly as Boots lets it come to a stop, letting the singing of the insects fill the air between them for a long moment.

“S’this place still out there…?” Piesha speaks up softly, glancing out into the darkness as if the snax might be watching from the trees.

“Far as I know,” Gramble says, slipping off the chair to walk over and take one of their paws in each of his. “But you gotta promise me you will never, ever go there.” His expression is grim as he peers up at them. “And you’ll never breathe a word to any of the kids about it, or to anybody else. Nobody should ever step foot on that awful place again.”

“Gram,” Boots squeezes his paw in return, then leans over to scoop him up and pull him into her lap, the swing groaning in complaint as yet another grumpus is piled upon it. “…there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do-”

“No.” Gramble shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I- I don’t know. Maybe there is somethin’ that someone out there can do, but it can’t be any of us. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it ever again and if word gets out, it’s just gonna be more people goin’ there and that’s exactly what it wants. Please,” he tilts his head up at her, the porch light glimmering in his eyes. “Just leave it alone. It can’t get us here and I want it to stay that way. Promise me.”

When she hesitates, he repeats himself, teeth glinting as his lips peel back. “Promise me, please-”

“I promise.” Boots leans down to kiss him on the nose, wrapping her arm around him as the other draws Pie in closer. “I won’t tell nobody if that’s what you want.”

“That’s all that I want,” he murmurs into her fluffy chest, suddenly very tired despite the mental weight that had lifted. He’d spoken Snaktooth’s name aloud, finally uncorked what he’d kept bottled up for nearly two decades now. He should feel better-prepared, now that they were all on the same page, so why did he still feel like he was only summoning the beast? Perhaps he just needed to sleep, let this new information digest, and they’d face whatever came tomorrow together.

Hundreds of miles away, the island remembers them too.

#bugsnax #gramble gigglefunny #boots timberheart #piesha honeyclaw #fics #i wrote this a while ago and completely forgot to post it

33 notes · View notes