#or know how to sew... i was a bit tipsy as well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

polar-artist · 1 month ago

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LORE/BACKSTORY FOR MY CHARACTER, ALIZA MARIE ELLISON!

TW/CW: Abuse, drunkness, parents fighting, blood, throwing objects at others, harm of children/minors, death of parent, etc?

[⚠️Keep in mind I will NOT censor stuff unless I feel it is absolutely necessary!⚠️]

(Basically just read at your own intrest, do not force yourself to read if you feel you can't handle it!)

BACKSTORY STARTS HERE:

(this is lore for how they got that huge scar across their eye btw!!!)

reference for said scar:

(not sure how to really start this, so here-)

Their dad only became an alcoholic/alcohol drinker after their birth. At first it was normal, like a drink or so every couple days. But then it became more and more of an issue.

Like, 2 drinks a night. He started getting drunk a lot. During the beginning he was never violent, maybe a little argumentative but never abusive (yet). Alizas mother starts noticing this difference in her husband, and asks him about it, and makes sure he is alright, cause duh thats her husband and she is his wife, of course she is gonna be worried.

Alizas father (Named Jason) takes this as... idk the word, but not well. Jason essentially tells Marie (pronounced Mar-e, this is alizas mother btw (this is also where alizas middle name comes from, aliza Marie ellison)) to fuck off and mind her own business about everything. Marie doesn't like his reaction to her concern, and so the fighting begins. They start off bickering over small things, like accidentally leaving the stove on for 2 minutes longer then necessary, or breaking the washing machine.

These small arguments do not last long, as they soon start over the smallest things. And eventually, Jason and Marie's children, Maci (18F right now) and Aliza (7F right now) start getting involved in these arguments, usually as the victim. (Because of Maci's age she sometimes fights back, but Aliza doesn't because they are 7.)

(ALSO! the reason why Marie doesn't just divorce Jason is because she is very financially dependent on him, and even if she decided to leave there was no one else she could go to because she doesn't have any siblings, and her parents have already passed away (orphan?))

Anyways, Jason starts becoming physically abusive. It starts out small, like a little push, or shove, or flick. Sometimes even slamming his fists down on tables or walls (yes, if constantly done, and if its done to intimate the other, that IS abuse!!!). He tries not to get Aliza involved (due to how young they are), but because they are incredibly similar in appearance to their mother, and due to Jason typically being drunk or at least tipsy when abusing them, sometimes he genuinely can't tell the difference between them.

Jason starts hitting and punching during breakfast, lunch, dinner, he is basically always drunk. He has to start taking several days at a time off of work due to how much of an alcoholic he has become (and because the job he works requires sober people he almost gets fired several times!) Marie has to use makeup to cover up her scars and bruises, but sometimes that isn't even enough to cover them.

Marie has to start making all sorts of excuses as to why she is always injured, like she tripped on her cat down the stairs and it scratched and bruised her, or she was playing around a bit too rough with Aliza and got hurt. She is also a very crafty person, so she uses that as excuses as well, such as she accidentally cut her hand while making something, or her sewing machine fell on her.

Finally. The biggest argument of them all.

Jason is so drunk he doesn't know his, or any of his family members names. Marie has also had a drink or two, but she gets drunk a lot less easy as Jason so she is simply tipsy. Maci is out working (she is a 911 operator WHICH I WILL GET INTO LATER), and Aliza is sat alone at the end of the table, crying silently. Jason has started to hit and yell at them more often, however they try not to because of favoritism (when aliza was born, maci sorta became obsolete to him, so he always like them better.)

Jason and Marie are fighting, yelling, and just generally pissed at each other. They would rather the other be DEAD.

Eventually, the fighting gets so bad that Marie tells Aliza to go to their room, and not come down until it is safe.

Little did Aliza know, that would be the last time they ever speak to their mother. (ALSO, KEEP IN MIND ALIZA IS 7 YEARS OLD DURING THIS.)

15 minutes go by. Aliza is sat in their room, back to the door, sobbing. The arguing is so loud they can hear it from upstairs. There is a loud crash and crack, then... nothing. Silence.

They wait.

[30 minutes later]

They haven't heard a word since the crashing sound.

They decide its safe enough to walk downstairs.

They thought, hey maybe their mom/dad just took a walk to cool off? It happens a lot, why not today, you know?

Plus due to their dads favoritism, they should hypothetically be safe-

CRASH.

Aliza is down on the floor.

They see their dad standing over them, looking the most angry he has ever been.

Aliza feels a drip from their left eye...

BLOOD.

Alizas dad picks up another wine glass, and throws it at them. They pass out.

[An unspecified amount of time later.]

They feel... like they are laying in a puddle.

They look over.

Blood.

Lots of it.

But... they only got his twice...?

There is no way that they lost enough blood for them to be laying in a puddle of it...?

They look over more.

Their mom is lying there, motionless and pale.

No... no it can't be... please don't let it be...

It is.

Jason had killed Marie, and attempted to murder Aliza with them.

With all the strength they have left, they try and call 911.

They pick up before the first ring of the phone.

Trying to stay conscious for long enough to tell them the important details, they speak.

"H-hello. My n-name is Aliza El-Ellison."

The 911 operator responds, sounding confused.

A familiar voice answers.

"Aliza? Shouldn't you be in bed right now..?"

A- "M-Maci? Is that you...?

M- "Aliza. What's wrong. What happened...?"

A- "Its dad.... he... oh my god... Mom. She's... Shes... oh god..."

M- "Aliza.. please, I need you to tell me what happened... I can't help you otherwise..."

A- "Dad... mom.... I... He got really drunk and... I think he killed her.. oh no... Maci please... i..."

M- "I... oh god... I'll send someone over as soon as possible... Are you hurt...?"

A- "Y-yeah.. He threw something at me... My eye hurts now... Everything's blurry.. I can't really see... Please come quick... I..."

M- "Aliza, in case I can't say it later, I want you to know I love you..."

A- "I love you too, Maci.."

{END OF CALL.}

(Also, Jason walked away from their house as SOON as Aliza went unconscious. No one knew where he was for a while.)

Anyways, Aliza and their mother got rushed to the hospital. Marie did not make it, (as she was stabbed several times, which was the cause of the blood puddle) but Aliza did.

After being able to safely exit the hospital, it was advised that Aliza starts therapy IMMEDIATELY, due to being so young and witnessing/being apart of an event as traumatic as that.

Jason managed to get away with very minor issues, due to being an upper (?) class white male and being able to pay his way out of jail time.

Marie had a funeral a month later, and Jason was the only family member not present at it.

Maci quits her job as a 911 operator because of that call, (and no one blames her, that was traumatic as hell!) and instead works to find a job somewhere else where she can help people.

Aliza and their therapist do not quite see eye-to-eye on everything, and because of aliza being so young they can't exactly remember a lot of exact details of the event.

Because of this, their therapist prescribes that they are going to be of no help to Aliza...

And because of that, and the courts ruling saying that Aliza must be placed somewhere safe, and where they can get begin getting better...

They get placed in an asylum.

More specifically, the Elysian Asylum.

The exact one that their dad owns.

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lowlights · 2 years ago

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Use Your Words

Pero needs to beg, sometimes. I am tipsy and throwing this out for some funsies, sorry for any mistakes.

Use Your Words

Pero Tovar x wife!reader in the Brujita-verse (can be read as standalone)

W.C. 2k, no beta sorry

Warnings: Begging, established relationship, light restraints (Pero is tied up y'all), teasing, switch energy all around, lots of touching, breeding kink like whoa, P in V unprotected, creampie.

The Brujita-Verse | Kinktober schedule | Absurdthirst's Kinktober prompts

It’s been a long day and Pero has been more clingy than usual. Maybe it was because the weather was changing and he liked to steal all of your warmth, or maybe it was because the glow of new marriage hadn’t worn off yet.

You suspected it was both of these things, but either way, you didn’t mind. You have been inseparable since before the wedding, never letting much distance exist between the two of you if you could help it. Pero was used to putting his body on the line and always let his broad frame do the talking for him, which he still does with you. Only now, he doesn’t threaten or intimidate.

He lets you know just how much he loves you. And wants you. And needs you.

It’s in the way he shares the space with you, always ready to protect and provide. It’s in the way he moves, resolutely putting himself between you and any possible danger. It’s definitely in the way that he makes love to you, encompassing and consuming. But the past couple of days he’s been a little bit more timid than normal, almost distracted, existing as close to you as possible but holding back in a way in which you were unaccustomed.

You’re getting ready for bed in your little cottage as night settles in when Pero walks up behind you. His hands circle around your waist and he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, slumping against you just a bit.

“Pero, is something wrong? What are you not saying?” You spin around and wrap your arms around his neck as he rests his forehead against yours.

He swallows hard before speaking, appreciative of the space you always give him to voice his thoughts. “Remember the other day when we were bringing in firewood and I couldn’t- what did you say? Keep my greedy hands to my own self?”

Well this is not what you were expecting at all. You pull back to look at him and are met with a worried look. “Yes, I remember, you sweet menace.”

He continues. “And you threatened to tie me up and… have your way with me?”

You nod, a small smile blossoming across your face. He looks sheepish, something that you don’t see often.

“Did you…did you mean it?” he breathes out.

Lightning shoots down your body, straight to your core. “Do you want me to mean it, my love?”

He nods, excited at the mere thought that you might. You kiss him and he grabs hungrily at your back, cupping your ass in his large hands and hoisting you up so that he can walk you over to the bed. He sits down without breaking his lips from yours, neck stretched upwards to meet you where you straddle his lap. His tongue pushes into your mouth, probing and searching for more.

Your mind is racing as fast as your heartbeat and you both break to catch your breath. “How do we…do this? Do I fetch rope from the barn?”

Now it’s Pero’s turn to crack a smile. “No, that will hurt too much. Where are those cloth strips you keep?”

You hop off with an excited squeal and hurry over to your sewing basket, quickly pulling out the long linen strips you were saving for another day. By the time you get back to the bed, Pero has settled back against the headboard, the bulge in his pants too large to ignore. His hands are clasped in his lap as though he were simply relaxing, but you notice straight away how white his knuckles are.

He opens up his hands to welcome you back, urging you to straddle him once again. His strong hands, always roaming, leave a trail of electricity in their wake. You tug at his shirt and command, “Off.”

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he tugs the garment up and over his head, chucking it to the floor. “I like when you tell me what to do, amor,” he murmurs as he pulls you towards him, dragging you along his hard length still trapped in his pants. He goes in for another kiss but you deny him, relishing in his little pout.

“Fine then,” you say with a cheeky grin, “ask me to tie you up.”

“Tie me up,” he asks as he watches with rapture as you push part of your shift off your shoulder.

“That is not very polite, you know better.” You further tease him by hiking up the hem of your shift, exposing your supple thighs. You know how much Pero loves your thighs, and you wield that power openly right now.

His brow furrows and his eyes darken with lust. “Tie me up…please.” He punctuates his request by stretching out his arms towards each bedpost, making the next step abundantly clear. You lean to one side and tie his wrist to the bedpost tightly with a linen strip before moving to the other arm (making sure your cleavage grazes against his gorgeous nose).

Pleased with your work, you settle back on his thighs and rest a hand against his heaving chest. His heartbeat strums quickly under your palm. “You’re being very good for me. However shall I reward you?” He squirms underneath you. “I bet you would like out of these pants, hm?”

His whine says everything.

You move quickly and help him kick off his brown pants, containing a moan of your own when his cock springs free. Sitting back on your heels at the foot of the bed- not touching, only looking- drives him mad with want.

“Are you going to do anything or leave me to rot the night away instead?” he asks you, voice pained.

In response you pull your own shift dress over your head and playfully toss it at his head. He shakes off the garment immediately and stares unabashedly at your fully naked body, eyes wide and wanting. You crawl slowly, slowly up to him on all fours until you can duck down to his flushed cock. You stop with your lips a whisper away, never breaking eye contact. Pero’s hips arch involuntarily but you still keep from touching him.

“By the god above, woman, you will be the death of me. I need that mouth, please, please.” He whines again when you just drop a feather-light kiss on the very tip before continuing to crawl forward.

You settle on his wide thighs, your legs on either side of him, with his cock positioned right against your core. You spit on your hand, a trick that Pero taught you recently, and begin to stroke him. He shivers at your touch and his eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me, my husband.” The power you have over him courses through your veins and a boldness you could’ve scarced dreamed of comes pouring out of you. “Use your words. Ask me to touch myself.”

“Touch yourself, for me, amor. Please, por favor, por favor,” he babbles.

You pull back his foreskin with each languid stroke, rubbing your thumb over his weeping slit. “Ask me to touch my breasts, Pero.”

He moans and jaw ticks with unspoken tension. “Please touch those perfect tits for me,” he pleads. He nods with frantic approval as you take your free hand to cup your breast and rub your hard nipple, your wet cunt making a mess of his thighs. You throw your head back in hedonistic pleasure as you drag your hand over to tweak your other pebbled nipple.

“It feels so good, Pero. I bet you wish you could touch me yourself right now,” you tease, seeking out a bit of friction against him. Your cunt aches for him, but you’re not ready to give in just yet and give him what he wants.

This is too much fun.

“Tell me what you wish you could do to me right now,” you sweetly demand. You look at him with hooded eyes, never breaking the rhythm of your strokes.

His mouth hangs open, that perfect bottom lip of his begging to be kissed. No- not yet.

“If I could I would flip you over and fuck into you until you come around on my cock,” he says without hesitation.

You need it. You need him, to be split open by him. Gods, you need him so badly. You want to be so full of him that you forget your own name. Desperate, your free hand wanders down to your clit where you begin to rub tight little circles. Pero’s arms pull at their restraints, his own desperation growing.

“I would let you, Pero, if you begged me for it. You sound so good when you beg.” A sinful moan escapes your lips and Pero’s cock twitches in your hand. You start to babble, fingers moving faster and faster against your swollen clit. “You know what else I would let you do? I would let you fuck me and fuck me until you put a baby in me. Would you like that?”

The sound that Pero makes is feral, almost inhuman. Primal. “My wife, if you do not untie me right now- right fucking now- I will rip this bed to pieces to get free.”

His tone makes you stop in your tracks, immediately moving to untie him. You can no longer fight the insane need that sets your body on fire. You release one hand and then the other, and before you know it you’re on your back with Pero looming above you.

“Tell me you mean it.” His eyes burn into yours.

“I mean every word, I swear it,” you pledge, guiding his cock towards your waiting entrance. He moves with restraint, even in his animalistic haze, slowly breaking you open without having first given you his fingers.

He finally slides in fully and you squirm at the fullness of him. “You must beg for me now. Ask for what you want, amor, and I will give it to you,” he whispers lowly against the shell of your ear.

You arch against him. “Breed me, Pero. Fill me up until I grow round with your child,” you beg. “Please, please, please!” You cling to him as he starts thrusting in and out of you with ease, lost in the sensation of his gorgeously thick cock dragging against your walls with each snap of his hips. With a practiced move of his thumb against your clit, you scream out his name as you come so hard you almost push him out entirely.

Your fluttering cunt sends Pero over the edge, rutting against you and filling you with so much cum that it oozes out around him. He finally stills above you, letting his weight settle against you with a small oof. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders as both of you come down from your high, messy and sweaty and happy together.

Pero mumbles something against you neck. “Hm?” you inquire.

“Do you still mean it?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Every word I shall ever speak to you will be the truth.” You mean it.

Pero lifts your palm to his mouth and gives it a chaste kiss; this is a promise of his own. It’s in this moment that you notice the red marks around his wrist, certainly from where he pulled against the restraints.

“My love, oh no! I have hurt you,” you exclaim, pulling his other wrist up to examine. It sports the same red ring. You scramble out from underneath him and beeline to a particular little salve on your shelf, despite his protests that he has been through far worse. Pero is sitting up against the headboard once again when you return, like you found him before, and you once again straddle his thighs.

This time, you are solely focused on rubbing the dandelion salve into his skin as you check for any cuts or blossoming bruises. He lets you fuss over him for a few minutes before plucking the salve from your hands and tossing it on the nightstand.

“As much as I like watching my naked wife take care of me, I think that we should rest now. I have many things planned for this night, and all the nights to come,” he says with a little smile as you curl up against him, knowing you’ll be sore in the morning but aching for more.

You will make him beg for it again then, too.

#happy kinktober #pero x wife!reader #pero x f!reader #pero tovar #brujita verse #the great wall #its just filth yall #love you all

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peachieanon · 3 years ago

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How Many Licks? (Private Eye! Sukuna x Reader)

(SURPRISE BITCH

No for real I couldn’t not fulfill my promise to @fuwushiguro to do this prompt for her wonderful collab. I’m so so sorry for the disappearances and lateness and I’m gonna explain it, hopefully with some content, but I knew I needed to get this out first. Much love everyone <3)

CW: Unprotected sex (wrap it!!), oral sex (AFAB receiving), choking, honorifics (brat/sir), AFAB reader, mentions of blood/death, explicit themes, alc mention, reader is a bartender and I have never been a bartender.

Crisp. Sharp, no…. Gilded perhaps? Was your interior, he thought, eyes languidly rolling around the rim of his cup like a marble. Gilded certainly covered the glittering aspect of you, but perhaps it was merely light reflecting off your sweat. You'd know how to manipulate that, wouldn't you? The way that you could play off that little glitter, that extra bit of sheen on your body that could never be disgusting, only all the more tantalizing, that little bit of you unattainable by day,

Years. He’d never spoken to you, but he felt like he’d known you for years.

Same old joint. Easy old gig. Eyes cutting like sewing shears. You looked at everyone that way. He could only guess the reasons why. Some kind of familial strife? A horrid and spoiling ex? Curled lipped best friends? No, he could only muse over a glass long gone, warm in his hands. Nails tapping slowly on the glass. Sharp, like your wit, as he’d learned when he listened to you, sweet tones played late at night. As long as he could ponder and as long as he could muse, the meaning was hidden. Deep, down, within your soul and easily pried apart though not deliciously. He would not know why, unless you decided to tell him.

You’d tell him, though. He decided that long ago, before tonight, before you’d been played into his hands due to a blubbering bastard who hadn’t understood the meaning of worth, It was only tonight that he had the easy opportunity.

How many words had been spilt like wine in the hands of a tipsy mother; well, perhaps they were drunk on something a bit more intense than alcohol, as blood dripped from their mouths, eyes… heh, the spot depended on the information he needed. Some wannabe gangster might have killed an informant? Well, good luck firing a gun with no fingers. Some exhausted businessman saw something he shouldn’t have and didn’t say anything? Should have put your tongue to good use buddy, who knows when someone will rip it out. Your wife certainly never got such a feel on her clit.

There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Or a human.

Not that anyone would really know he knew. No one really understood. Except… Sukuna smiles, lets his eyelids shut as his head tilts back. Ah…

“You know I can’t... hide this.”

“Hide what, brat? There’s nothing here.”

Good little brother. Good, goody little two shoes shined to perfection every night after trodding through the mud all day. Why slop about in muck when there was a perfectly good sidewalk right there? It got you there quicker.

The sidewalk in this situation was a floor cleaned of blood, chains on a wall with cuffs at the ends of them.

Yuuji however, was looking at it like it was the ripped open corpse which had been disposed of just an hour earlier. He hadn’t been there, of course, whenever he had to rely on dear older brother, he liked to pretend he was above it all. He was detached, of course he was. Good cop Yuuji Itadori, darling of the local news. Oh, how those gooey little housewives would weep if they saw him handing money to the renowned criminal Ryomen Sukuna for him to rip somebody to shreds once he’d gotten the address of the man he was looking for. Guiltily spending cigarettes at the station while Ryomen spent hours on a man’s organs, relishing in screams and cries and the blood spilt over his carpet. Only for the unfortunate man to lick it up afterwards, if Sukuna was in a particular mood.

Sukuna was more than just a thorn in Yuuji’s side, and he relished in it.

SImilar to how satisfied he felt seeing the disgust in Yuuji’s face as he reached out towards the chains on the wall, then pulled his hands back. The glare he gave Sukuna could cut diamonds.

“Nothing here? You want me to say there’s nothing here? There’s chains on the damn wall! How do you explain that away?”

“Simple. I swap in the soft cuffs and pull out the toy box.”

“You’re sick.”

“Oh? As if you have any room to talk, dear little brother.” Sukuna waved his brother out behind him, walking out of the room and down the hall. “Has that little shred of a spouse gotten pregnant yet? Or do you have to push those hips up just a little more?"

"Stop it."

"You hold their legs up and kiss their little trembling thighs don't you? Pathetic. You're desperate for it, aren't you? Something to keep them tied to you? You don’t use any leather or anything to really mark them, to really make sure they belong to you. It’s less about them and more about the little sprout in their womb, isn’t it?"

The barrel against his cheek quicker than a blink. Yuuji's eyes narrowed, a snarl anyone else would take as à pitbull's. To his older brother, it was a runt's attempt at getting his fair share of milk. And he could smile, knowing he was secure in his share.

Sukuna brushed the barrel away easily, striding past his brother. Yuuji's breathing heavy against the staccato of Sukuna's shoes on the concrete, uneven.

"Make them want to come back. Become irresistible."

He could say that so easily, because to him it was easy. He knew how to twist his hair with a three hundred dollar pomade, and look through heavily lidded eyes and smirk, speak deep in his chest. The tattoos and muscles didn’t hurt either. Silk suits, carved against his body like marble, he was sitting like a king on a throne regardless of the room. And this room was no exception, they noted.

You stand at the bar; you know what you are doing. You also know he’s been here every night that you’ve worked, and never when you weren’t. Your coworker’s texts have stacked on top of one another again and again, and you didn’t have to be in person to sense the worry in her tone.

"That guy literally only shows up when you’re there, I have no idea who that is."

"I don’t? Have control over him. I don’t know him."

"Maybe you should confront him."

"Over what? He never orders a drink directly from me, never comes directly to the bar. It would look weird if I just went up to him and demanded answers."

"Has he followed you home?"

Not that you noticed. But of course Sukuna was sure of that. He could be quiet when he wanted to.

No. He just comes here and sits. He looks like he wants to ask me something, every time. Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

Like he wants you to ask him to ask you.

Like I’d ever go over to a man first. He’s that desperate to see me, he should at least have some balls.

There was no question in your mind, what in the world he wanted with you.

It was the same. The selfsame sway of your hips, the stretch of your legs. How cute your ankle looked dangling in the air, free, toes pointed sometimes when he was good enough. Soft wet sounds, mewls and moans and curses, hand pulling hair to bring him back down, he wasn’t done yet. Rarely though did that happen, and rarer still when they wouldn’t want to Beforehand too, how satin and polyester clung to your skin, never the same dress twice, never the same man twice, though sometimes three times just enough to make them think you cared. There was a reason the queen was something to be feared in chess. It was always the same.

The parts, stitched together to make some facsimile of a whole. Just enough for them.

Everything, really. In the curve of your lips, the little bit of space when they part. How much he longed to trace those lips, press one digit through that tiny opening-- you’d be so good for him, wouldn’t they? He practically purrs at the thought.

But yes, he could see where he sat, that this little game would be worth it. He wanted you to walk over to him. To see the irritation in your eyes. The glossiness of your lips. The shift of your hips. He could certainly adapt to that.

However frustrating it was, he could always call you over. Or stalk his prey.

“And there you are.”

It landed right in his hand, slid just quick enough to not spill but stop right in place. The man raised it to you, tipping his cup so all that effort into not spilling a drop was wasted. Grit your teeth behind your smile, try not to show an inch of your glare. He throws it back, gulps, burps. Charming as ever. You would be less inclined to put up with him if he didn’t tip so well. But this dress does its job; and so do the heels. Elegant looking, even if not too expensive, bless cheap satin and thrift store heels. And the fact that most men could not tell the value of nor the brand of the dress, they only saw how low it was cut and the slit up the leg, that certainly helped. But they had no concept of you. No idea, nothing getting through their blurred slurred thoughts about how much effort you put in otherwise.

That man probably could though.

The one with the pink hair. You’d avoided eye contact with him for so long, you couldn’t break that streak, how he’d come to the bar almost every night you were there. Vaguely, a long time ago, you remembered someone telling you that eye contact was a sign of weakness. It was that kind of mentality that got you here, wasn’t it?

But it’s a moment of weakness then, when you look up, and catch his eye.

He really was handsome. Black tattoos curling in and out of view, all the way up to his face. Wouldn’t those hurt? Heavily lidded red eyes. Black painted nails that looked sharp. Were they fake? No… they didn’t look it. Clad in a button down black shirt that showed off more tattoos curling around his chest. So confident with it, the way he leaned back on his tall chair. His eyes latching onto yours.

You freeze. Why was he looking at you like that? You weren’t unused to men looking at you like a piece of meat, but there was generally a level of intoxication behind the expression, or something cocky. The way he looks at you…. He knows what he’s doing. It’s not cockiness that lies behind his expression, more like… intrigue. Confident in his adaptability, not necessarily some kind of “game”. Though it’s certainly a game of chess you are caught in now, the queen, the king, and he moves forward with purpose as he lands at the stool in front of you.

This close, he smells of smoke, something coppery, and wood. No sweat on his shirt.

Inside your chest, your breath catches only for a minute.

“What can I do you for?”

“What whiskeys do you offer?”

His voice too…. Smooth. Almost too smooth. Immediately your guard goes back up with a shrug.

“Good variety. What are you looking for?”

“What I’m looking for I can’t find at the bottom of a glass.”

Again, it curls like smoke. Under the chin, tilting your head up. So you look down your nose at him, though he’s close to your height even when sitting on a stool. He’s smirking.

“Unfortunately for you those are the only answers I can offer.”

“Somehow I think you’re lying.”

“Even if I am, I don’t get paid to tell witches riddles. I get paid to pour drinks.” You turn back to the shelf, looking for the most expensive whiskey-- no, do you want to give him something expensive or something that’ll burn? Hm. Quite the conundrum.

“I’ll take that double, on the rocks if you will.”

Silent curses under the breath. You take a bottle that you know makes the heartiest of men cough and a glass. Summoning the cheeriest voice you could, “Coming right up.”

And there it was. You could feel the stare. You were used to the stare. The stare of a man who wanted you to come home with him. Piece of meat, pretty doll at the toy store. Grit the teeth. Get yourself ready.

“You said to me that you didn’t have any answers.”

“Possibly not for your questions.”

“But you’re the bartender. Certainly you’ve… heard some things.”

Oh?

That was different.

You glance to the side. Stiffen just a tiny bit. His eyes… they’re still following you. Tracing over you, the edges of your fingers where they pour the double shot. Something stills in your chest. You try to keep your deep breath as shallow as possible, to not show your nerves.

Was this… why he kept showing up?

You look back and forth. Nobody else is calling your attention. It’s just him. And the general bar crowd is thinning. Another controlled breath.

“Am I about to be in some kind of trouble?”

“Not necessarily.”

There’s a silent alarm under one of the bottles. It would be so easy. Let the security guards come in, take care of him. But something tells you that this man… invoking the police is a bad idea.

You’re in a trap, and you didn’t even realize it.

“So then what’s my incentive?”

“Hm?”

“What’s my incentive…” You turn around, and set the glass in front of him, looking at his eyes. A light, icy blue… it’s searing. So you force yourself to look bored, tilt your head. “To tell you the truth?”

His laugh is just as cold as his eyes. “Come now, you look like a smart girl…” He scoops up the glass, swirls it around. “I said ‘not necessarily’. We’ll have to work on your listening skills.”

Your eyes narrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Keep begging.” He tilts his head the opposite side as you, smiling.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Actually, my name is Sukuna.”

That’s when you really freeze up. Stopping, everything stopping, down to the heartbeat. How stupid could you be? Of course. That’s what made him stick out. How many times had you heard that name on the news, in your house or someone else’s? Turning the channel to get away from the grisly descriptions or the bloody pictures. Before you got a real clear picture of his face. But those had stopped a while ago. So why was he here?

“Ah, see? I knew you were a smart girl.”

“What do you want?” It’s a fight to keep your voice steady, but you think you do well enough. Though the way his smirk widens, you may as well have your knees knocking together.

“I told you. Answers.”

“I can’t give you any if you don’t tell me the questions.”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“I… see a lot of people.” You frown. Try to keep it all in check. Though your head is running a million miles a minute, and so many options you have are playing out. You could press the silent alarm. But the security guards might get hurt. You could get hurt. You could lie, if you really needed to. Obviously the person he was after was going to get hurt. But what if who he was after was actually someone bad? Then you’d take the fall. You could disappear out the back. But what if he followed you? (He already had.)

His voice snaps you back. How was it so powerful?

“He’s a regular.”

The frown deepens. “Then… you’ve been here, almost every night. How have you not--”

“Not a regular at the bar. A regular with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sukuna clucks his tongue, takes a long sip from his glass. Though you’d seen sailors choke on it, he drinks it easily. “Come on, pretty thing, you have to know. If I’ve got a reputation for one thing, you have one for another.”

Your mouth drops open just a minute. Then it shuts just as quick. You look up and down the length of the bar, but somehow you’re isolated. Nobody else has heard, or they haven’t picked up on it. The closest patron is the guy you slid a drink to not too long ago and he’s looking like he will probably have to be escorted out soon. Cheeks warm, you exhale.

“Maybe I do. What is it to you?”

“That’s a girl. Now, do you recall a man by the name of Haru?”

Haru. Haru, Haru-- your mind races for an answer, a face, something. Nothing. Then--

“Blond hair. Dyed.”

“Is that what he looks like?”

“You don’t know?” Shouldn’t he--

“Describe him.”

You swallow, look down the bar again. Lean on the counter-- he does so in suit, closer to you. Somehow his breath doesn’t smell of whiskey. Your head swims.

“Tall, skinny, always wearing a pair of really nice shoes even though he otherwise dresses like he came out of a garbage can--”

Sukuna chuckles.

“Lip ring, two piercings in each ear-- scar on his forehead, shaped kinda like an oar. Like a boat oar. I didn’t know he was tied up in… this.” You gesture out awkwardly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“I… what does he… do?”

“What does he tell you he does?”

“He said he works in shipping. Delivery driver. I haven’t seen him in over a week and a half.”

“You’re not involved with him that deeply, are you.”

“You sound like you know enough about me to surmise no,” you reply stiffly. He laughs again.

“Fair. Now, do you know more about his name?”

“Haru is his first name. His last name… um…”

You swallow. Hands trembling.

“Slow down, girl. I need--”

“Y/N.”

“I know that.”

Your glare meets his leveled eyes. “Then call me by that.”

“Y/N.” He coos it, easily. “You’ve already given me a nice bit of information. Why don’t you pour a drink for yourself too?”

“And risk my job? No thank you.”

“How responsible of you.” Sukuna takes another sip. “But back to business.”

“Nakamura.” You blink.

“Mm?”

“That’s his last name.”

“See? That wasn’t too hard.”

“I still don’t--”

“Better you don’t. You may have a reputation for who you let between your legs--”

“Shut it--”

“--but you needn’t get your pretty head in this.”

“Seems it already is,” you mutter, as he finishes off his glass. It’s late. You pull your phone from your pocket, glance at the time: mm. Not too long until your shift ended by this point…

“The bar closes in a few minutes, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Why? So you can murder me?”

He sighs. “I’m not all about murder. Or else I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re not all about murder when there’s a likelihood you’ll be caught.”

At that, you look back up and down the bar again to make sure no one is listening. But you hear him chuckle.

“Perhaps. But truly, I have no such intent.”

“How can I trust that? And,” You hiss between your teeth, noting the way that some of the servers are staring at you, “What if someone you’re involved with… that… Haru or whatever is involved with--what if they see you and me? And then-- and then they go after me?”

“You really think if anyone sees you with me they’d fuck with you?”

Your mouth opens again, but he raises an eyebrow. There’s no trace of amusement on his face. He’s dead serious. The sight makes you gulp.

“Well… I walk home alone at night all the time--”

He snorts. “Stupid of you--”

“And I don’t get why now is different all of a sudden.”

“I said you have a reputation.”

Your face warms up. That’s when a smile slowly starts to spread across his face.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to see if the rumors were true. Like I said, there was a reason that I looked for you.”

His voice curls low again. Snakes around the waist, as your hands grip tighter to the counter. Sukuna’s chuckle…

You almost don’t notice it until you hear the snap next to your ear. Blinking quickly you look back up where he’s stood up. Was he really that tall? In his fingers is a five thousand yen bill.

“Keep the change. I’ll meet you outside.”

You stare at the bill set down on the counter-- there’s the sound of his shoes as he walks out, the music having been turned off and the lights starting to turn on.

Leave out the back door, or leave with him?

Heart beating slowly. Every single beat in your chest, one after another after another. Eyes still locked on that stupid bill.

“Y/N?”

Almost slipping on the mat, you look back up to one of the servers looking at you worriedly.

“Are you alright? Who was that guy?”

Swallowing, you look back down at the bill. Pick it up, and exhale.

“Evidently you don’t make much on tips.”

“None of your business. Let’s get to tips.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole about it, you know,” you snap, hanging up your keys when you hear Sukuna close the door. Normally your apartment is the better of your hookups; eh, maybe it was more 60-40. It was cozy, homey-- cheap furniture from thrift stores and home cleaned by you and your friends after several margaritas was complemented by posters and pictures and cute little knick knacks that were also found in the thrift store. Hey, nothing wrong with the cheap cute stuff.

Thank god you managed to get your dishes done at some point or another so the kitchenette was relatively clean. You open the fridge to grab a bottle of wine, and look up to where Sukuna stands in the middle of the living room.

“Would you like a glass?”

“What year is it?”

“Never mind.” You pull out the cork and reach up for a glass.

His laugh sounds even deeper in the open, empty space of your living room. And as you’re pouring your cheap wine into your glass, it’s really hitting you that this man was potentially a killer.

“Aw, offended?”

“I just don’t care.” You swirl it once, take a long sip. Sigh.

“I just thought a bartender would have better taste.”

“It’s still a nice vineyard.”

“I’m sure.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm.”

“Aw, kitty got claws?”

You glare up at him. “You’re really not making a good case.”

Sukuna’s smirk churns up your stomach. “Oh really?”

You drink again from your glass, sigh.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re looking for Haru?”

“What else has he told you?”

Your raised brow is mirrored. But you just roll your eyes, take another sip. What a jerk...

“He lives in the arts district. Which didn’t really make sense to me based on his job, I mean, I can’t afford a fucking apartment in the arts district.” You snort, shake your head. “Though, um…”

You gesture back at him. He smirks wider.

“This makes a little more sense now.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Which, still. You avoided my question.”

“He’s a bad man.”

“Oh wow, I’m sooooo scared,” you deadpan. He raises an eyebrow.

“Watch it.”

“He’s just pathetic. I’ve seen what he’s like in bed.”

“In my experience, people can be quite pathetic in bed and capable outside. Though from what I’ve heard about you, it’s odd to meet a maneater with such a pathetic attitude.”

“Fuck off.”

“Or no… it wasn’t that you were a maneater.”

His voice deepens to something like a growl. Or, maybe like a cooing, calling, he’s drawing you in. It sends butterflies through your stomach as you set the glass down. When you swallow, he chuckles.

“That wasn’t exactly the wording that they used. I believe it was actually…” You stare down at your counter, feeling the air shift as he stands behind you. His large hands cage you, and you can’t take your eyes off his black painted nails. “Actually, I believe you were… dripping honey. A queen bee, so to speak.”

You clear your throat. Try to still your heart.

“That you’ve got men dying just for a taste who would never eat before…”

His thumb brushes over your hand. A strangled breath escapes your throat and he chuckles.

“Won’t you turn around for me?”

Another deep breath. You take another long drink--getting a chuckle out of him-- and turn around. Proving to be a mistake.

Your back practically arches over the counter leaning back from him-- you’ll be sore in the morning from that-- and he leans closer, icy blue eyes boring into yours. This close, all the smells in the bar you associated with him earlier are more intense, more insane, rushing blood out of your head to your rapidly pumping heart.

“Good little brat.”

You exhale sharply.

“How many times have you been out of control like this? Seems not nearly enough. The way they were talking you up…. You stung like hell when you left them, queen bee.” His breath ghosts over your neck. How he wasn’t even touching you and he did this…

“I--”

“That’s alright, little brat. I’ve got my information. I just want a taste.” Against your pulse point his tongue presses, warm, wet, intentional. You shiver. “You’ll let me get one, won’t you?”

“I…”

“I, I, I…” he mocks, making your cheeks warm. “Aw, pathetic little brat. Let me.”

He presses his lips to yours, and you gasp in the kiss. In your stomach warmth swirls around like the wine in your glass, as you wrap your arms around his neck. One arm wraps around your waist, the other pressed against the counter as he leans into you. It’s so warm… his tongue slides in and plays against yours, careful, but again, intentional. He knows what he’s doing.

When he pulls back, a string of spit connects your lips. He grins wickedly.

“You look so much better like that. All fucked out just from a kiss?” The arm that had pressed against the counter pulls back, his hand wrapping around your throat. “Open your mouth.”

A choking breath escapes your mouth before he leans over you, lets a glob of saliva drop on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

Cheeks burning warm in embarrassment, you close your mouth. Swallow. Sukuna grins wider.

“Good brat. Now…”

He lets go of your throat, and you squeak as he effortlessly lifts you up and sets you on the counter.

“Enjoy the view. Not many get to see me on my knees, but I couldn’t resist.”

You grip the edges of the counter tight, wishing it had more give.

“Aw, no one done this to you yet? I’m shocked, frankly.”

The same warm breath that had been against your neck brushes similarly over your panties. Your short dress is pushed up all the way to the edge by your hands, and you exhale sharply when his tongue presses up against your slit.

“So wet, just from kissing me… You must have had some really pathetic kissers in the past, hm? Can’t imagine how horrible they were at this then…”

You gasp-- he pulls your panties down, kissing along the insides of your thighs.

“They still got a taste before me though… tsk.”

Sharp teeth nip at your soft skin. Your hands tremble.

“I’ll have to make up for lost time.”

The kisses are softer this time, clustered closer and closer to the opening to your pussy, and you whine. Now your whole body is starting to tremble a little. He chuckles.

“You can always ask nicely…”

Gritting your teeth, you look to the side. He tsks.

“Little brat.”

You yelp when he bites hard on your thigh. Moan when he does it again.

“Please…”

“Please what?” The third bite makes you squeeze your eyes shut, as he breaks skin and laps at the blood. Your chest heaves. “You need to tell me what to do.”

So warm, hot, you heat up all the way from the base of your neck. You shake your head, choking out a gasp at another bite, and a sigh of disappointment.

“Come on, pretty little brat. I want what everyone else wants. But I’m a generous man, and it’ll be as good for you as it is for me. For my generosity, I think you ought to be nice.” His grip on your hips tightens, and somewhere in your lust-foggy brain you remember: potential killer.

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please… eat me out.”

“Please eat me out, what?”

You pause. Take a minute to ruminate with your heated up face, swallow. Were you really…

“Sir, please. Please eat me out, I c-can’t--”

You squeak when he presses his tongue to your clit.

“There’s my good brat.”

From that on, he ate you with a vengeance. Tongue rubbing circles on your puffy clit, trailing down to suck gently at your entrance. The squelching was obscene, porn like. One finger pressed in, curled up to press at your g spot, rubbing in tandem with his tongue.

You choked on your moan, gripping onto his hair. “Oh my god…”

“Worshipping me is smart, brat.” He groans into you, the vibrations sending shivers all through you. “Damn… Those idiots were right about something. You…”

A horrifically embarrassing keening noise escapes your mouth when he presses in another finger, scissoring to stretch you.

“You taste incredible.”

He keeps thrusting with his fingers, stroking at your inner walls while assaulting your clit intermittently. Taking a break to bite at your legs which press closer and closer around his head, until he pulls them apart with one strong hand. God he knew what he was doing… you lean back, moaning, a familiar knot in your stomach with a strange pressure.

“S-sir… I’m…”

“Cum on my tongue. Now.”

With his command you squeal, riding out your orgasm against his unrelenting tongue and fingers, feeling a strange release like… peeing. Your eyes shoot open to see the last of a clear liquid shoot out next to Sukuna’s face, drenching his cheek. You freeze. You didn’t just…

But his grin says otherwise. “What a little whore, squirting on a big bad criminal’s face. Was that the first time? I’m honored.”

You can’t say anything, head spinning still. Mouth agape, face heated. Legs still shaking, you look down, eyes landing (unfortunately? fortunately?) on his hips when he stands. And--

“Oh?” He grabs his bulge, pressing up against the fitted fabric of the black suit pants. “Found something you like?”

You swallow.

“I said I’m a generous man. You’ll be generous in return, right? No…” He shakes his head, and in one smooth movement, turns you around so your feet are just barely on the floor and your hips are against the counter, where as you try to get back up he presses you down. “I bet you please most of those worms with your mouth, don’t you? You don’t want them to mess up down here.”

A zipping noise. Something hot and heavy presses up against your hole, and you aren’t stupid. Gasping at the feeling.

“I’m sure you’re quite skilled with your mouth. But I’d much prefer to claim down here.” His tip traces your entrance, and you squirm, though not able to do much around his hand at the small of your back. “I made you squirt on my tongue… now I want to feel that around my cock. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

“Please…” you moan. “Please…”

“Please what? Your words, pretty little brat, use them.”

“Please… fuck me sir… please…”

“And you’re going to let me cum inside you, yes? You’re going to let me claim that cute little pussy of yours?”

You whine, trying so hard to get any friction, but none. “Please, yes, anything you want sir--”

The next morning you’ll have to be sure the neighbors didn’t call the police, because you scream as he sheathes half himself inside with one thrust. God… he’s so big…

“So tight, even with how much I stretched you…” he exhales. “Those idiots really are missing out on something…”

He presses the rest in slowly, inch by inch, until you feel the tip kissing against your cervix. A strong arm snakes around your neck, the other up your waist and pulling down the neckline of your dress so your chest pops out. Roughly his fingers tweak your nipples, making you whine.

“I could get used to this…”

You inhale sharply as he pulls out. And then, just as how he ate you out, he begins a punishing pace.

The most sound you can make are little choked gasps as he fucks you, hips bouncing into the counter and sure to leave bruises. His cockhead brushing, bruising your insides with each thrust, legs starting to shake already with the pressure of being on your toes. His arm tightens around your neck, the other hand bothering itself with your chest. Sukuna’s face makes its way to your hair as he keeps thrusting, inhaling sharply.

“Yeah… that’s a tight fucking cunt, appropriate for such a stuck up bitch, huh?”

Your eyes tear up just a bit as you let out another squeak. He’s so deep inside, so intense, you struggle to breathe, the arm around your neck doesn’t help.

“Aw, no words for me anymore? I guess I can’t call you stupid. But god--” one particularly deep thrust against your g spot has you scream-- “If you don’t look so fucking dumb around my cock. You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Y-ye-es…”

“You’re never going to have another cock better, are you?” Sukuna thrusts harder, not faster, your body shaking with each one, lungs desperate to scream but his arm not letting it happen. Head spinning, heart pumping, god, how long had it been… tears stream down your face out of your control.

“N-never..”

“Fuck…” he hisses in your ear, starting to speed up again. “Fuck…”

“Please… c-cum inside m--”

“Please what?” A punishing thrust has your fists clenching, wailing. “Please what?”

“Cum inside you?”

“P-please… please…”

“Yes!” You scream, feeling that knot in your stomach again, shaking all over. “Please, please, please--”

“I can’t deny you when you ask so nicely…” He thrusts harder, your eyes starting to roll back as that knot gets tighter, eyes starting to roll back. The pressure, the heat, on your throat, your stomach, inside you--

“Fuck..” Sukuna hisses into your hair, choking you harder, sliding his other arm down to get access to your abused clit. Your legs shake harder as the knot comes undone.

“Fu-UCK!”

You feel yourself squirt again, that similar feeling of release as you clamp down on his cock. A rush of warmth fills your cunt, hot cum filling you up as your eyes roll back. His grip on your neck tightens; he finishes, pushing himself as far as he can into you. Vision goes blurry when you carefully come down from your high, legs shaking and useless as he pulls out. You can feel the wetness around your cunt, starting to go down your legs. So exhausted, eyes already fluttering even when you hear him chuckle.

“You really are a good fuck. I thought Haru might have lied.”

Your eyes widen. Weakly, you push yourself up, looking over at him. Sukuna is zipping himself back up, looking up at you under hooded eyes, grinning.

“You--”

“I had him bagged a long time ago. Getting to fuck you… that was a bonus. I will admit…” He exhales, straightening his jacket. “You were certainly better than anyone I’ve had in a long time.”

If possible at this point, your cheeks warm up even more. He chuckles.

“Don’t be shy now. And don’t worry.” He turns away towards the door, as you start to get hazy, sleepy. Body heaving in tired breaths, eyes starting to flutter.

“I won’t break your two date rule.”

Exhaustion starting to take over, you barely register as he closes the door behind him. You do, however, have one more thought as you start to drift away into unconsciousness:

How did he know about your two date rule?

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #peaches and cream

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faiththearcanine24 · 2 years ago

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Hey, this is my very first post and I decided to post one of the many Ocs I have. And I know, yes she and my other Ocs were made with doll makers. I can't draw for crap, but I hope you all like her. Here is her information. These are also meant to be Pokémon trainer Ocs, but those profiles would be LONG so here is the basics for now.

Name: Crystal

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 5' 6

Weight: 159.2 lbs

Nationality: American

Family: Brothers- Myst (Older brother) and Tony (Fraternal Twin)

Birthday: March 10th (Pisces)

Personality: Sweet and Kind-hearted with a hint of Shyness; She is often quite trusting towards others.

Bio: Crystal is a sweet and caring girl who puts others before herself. When she meets someone new she can be a bit shy at first, but will start to trust them if they seem kind and caring enough which can be her downfall at times. She loves her brothers to death, though sometimes her and Tony get into arguments every now and then. She was taught how to fight under the supervision of Zack. Crystal, Alex, Drake, Rory, and Lily are best friends.

Hobbies: Sewing, Reading, Drawing, Gardening, and Training

Extras

1. Crystal has a fear of spiders (arachnophobia), and certain types of snakes.

2. Crystal absolutely loves making dolls and stuffed bears, as well as donating them to the local child's orphanage.

3. With her spare time, Crystal likes playing tea party with Molly. She also likes making Molly new dolls and matching dresses for her and her dolls.

4. One time when Tony snuck some alcohol in her drink, Crystal got very tipsy. Very fast. Which caused her to become oddly, flirtatious. In this state Crystal started flirting with Alex, who was the shade of a cherry from this. Tony and Lily were laughing their butts off while Myst, Drake, and Rory face palmed.

5. Crystal's face gets really red when she's angry.

6. Crystal tends to take things way more to heart than her twin, Tony.

7. Crystal loves training physically with her brothers and friends, sometimes wanting to go beyond her limits, but it leads to major consequences for her.

8. Though they may seem to look a bit alike Crystal and Tony have a few things that definitely can tell them apart up close.

9. If the two change clothes or put on identical clothes, Crystal and Tony can sometimes throw others off. However, if one looks closely, there are details that can tell them apart from one another. Though if the two really put a lot of effort into trying to look alike they can surprisingly get it done.

10. Crystal has a slight allergy to shellfish, however she can eat mollusks.

#my ocs #ocs #oc rp

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multifandomfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Entering the Wolves Den Chapter 3 (From the Vault)

TITLE: Entering the Wolves Den PAIRING: Robb/OC (Eventual) RATING: T CHAPTER: 3/? SUMMARY: When Thea’s father dies, she is taken in by the Stark’s as a ward until she is of age or married off. There she meets the young Robb Stark, heir to the seat of Winterfell.

That night, Robb walked Thea back to her room. She was a bit tipsy from all the wine they had consumed that night. “Thank you Robb”, she said, “I think I can make it to bed from here on my own”.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Goodnight Robb.”

“Goodnight Lady Thea.” He leaned in to kiss her, but was rewarded with a slap. His head turned from the force behind it. He jumped back.

“As if I would ever kiss you. How dare you?! What kind of girl do you think I am?! I am not some village whore for you to do with what you please! I can tell you one thing, Lord Stark. I will never dance with you again. In fact, I never want to speak to you again!” She stormed into her room and slammed the door.

“Well that was nicely done”, Jon said, appearing.

“Shut-up Jon”, Robb said and stormed off.

Jon felt compelled to apologize for his brother’s stupidity. He walked up to her door and knocked on it. He heard her irritated sigh.

“What do you want, Stark?!” she asked, throwing open the door. Her hair, which had been pinned nicely to her head, was tumbling down in thick golden curls. “Jon”, she said softly.

“I apologize for Robb’s behavior. I am afraid the wine has gone to his head. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Your brother is a prick. No need to apologize for that.”

Jon had never heard a lady use such language…but he kinda liked it.

“Do you know what is planned for me tomorrow?” she asked him.

“I imagine you will start lessons with Arya and Sansa.”

Thea groaned. “Do I have to?”

Jon chuckled. “If you wish to be a proper lady”.

“And what if I don’t want to be a ‘proper lady’? Maybe I want to be a vagabond”.

“Then I would suggest we run off together and be vagabonds together.”

Thea laughed. “You seem to know exactly how to cheer a lady up”.

Jon blushed.

“Well, goodnight Jon.”

“Goodnight Thea.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Will you come rescue me tomorrow?”

“I will try.”

“Goodnight”, she said again and shut the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day, Thea was awoken early in the morning by Issa.

“Get up Lady Thea”, she said, “We must ready you for your long day”.

She groaned remembering what Jon had told her. She started her lessons today. “What lessons do ladies learn?” she asked Issa as she started her bath.

“I don’t know Miss Thea. I am not of noble blood”.

Thea sighed and got out of bed. Thea dressed and was escorted by Lord Stark to her lessons.

Sansa and Arya were already there.

Septa Mordane was teaching them how to sew.

After about an hour, Thea was bored. She was already an expert seamstress from working in her father’s shop.

Septa Mordane left the room for a few minutes.

Thea set her stuff down.

“Thea!”

Thea turned and saw Jon.

He waved her over.

She got up and ran over to him and they snuck away to the courtyard. “Now what?” she asked him.

“I’ve no idea”, Jon said, causing Thea to laugh.

#Robb Stark #robb/oc #robb stark imagines #jon snow #jon snow imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines

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dreamofthe-wild · 3 years ago

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pouring out a cold one for your homie

Fandom: Linked Universe Words: 1,176 Characters: Twilight & Warriors, (Wild mentioned) Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury and use of alcohol

If Twilight had a rupee for every time the group somehow got split up after a battle, he’d probably have enough to buy the potions he currently desperately needed. It wasn’t the first time he found himself up shit’s creek without a paddle, but it’s the first time he’s been responsible for the safety and wellbeing of another person while being completely out of medical supplies. Not even a proper bandage was left in his bag. His spare tunic would only last for so long before it would need to be replaced, and they hadn’t been able to wash their clothing in anything other than wild rivers or lakes in who knows how long.

“I got nuthin’,” he sighs as he tosses his bag against the wall of the small outcropping they squatted in, “ya got anythin’?”

“Not that I know of, you can check,” Warriors answers weakly from his spot on the hard ground. He waves his free hand in the general direction of his bag, that was also tossed haphazardly against the wall. His other hand presses Twilight’s tunic, now more red than green, against a deep cut along his collarbone. Twilight bites his lip as he leans over to grab the bag.

“How’re ya holdin’ up?” He asks while he digs through the captain’s bag. He knows the answer, but keeping Warriors busy would hopefully help him stay awake longer.

“How do you think?” Warriors snarks back, but there’s no bite to it.

“He looks like shit.” Twilight observes. A glistening sheen of sweat dots Warriors’s hairline, and his every breath is noticeable in the way he takes short small inhales to not jostle the wound any further. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in days, and dark bags formed under his eyes like fresh bruises.

Twilight’s hand touches a glass bottle near the bottom of the captain’s bag. He almost cries out in relief, but when he pulls it out it’s a bottle of scotch whiskey. Pretty good quality too, actually. Being a captain had its perks, it seems.

“You sending me off with a party?” Warriors jokes half-heartedly.

Twilight sets the bottle aside and digs his arm back into the bag, an idea forming in his mind. He likes to pretend he doesn't know how, but Twilight had seen Warriors take a needle and thread to his scarf on more than one occasion. A long piece of cloth would not still be in one piece on a battlefield otherwise. He finds the small sewing kit hidden amongst other supplies and, to his luck, a roll of clean gauze. He pops off the lid of the whiskey and holds it out towards the captain.

“Yer gon’ want some o’ this,” he says.

Warriors is not a dumb person, at this point he knows exactly what Twilight was planning on doing. He knocks back the bottle and takes a few swigs, enough to make his cheeks warm. Twilight scoots forward on his knees as he’s drinking, mentally preparing himself.

“A waste of good scotch.” Warriors comments, taking one more big gulp. It burns his throat in the way only alcohol does, he can feel it all the way down to his stomach. Cheeks red and feeling tipsy, he pushes the bottle into Twilight’s open palm, “hurry up and get this over with.”

Twilight uses a bit of the alcohol to disinfect the biggest needle he could find in the kit, and gently peels off the soiled fabric. He’s about to pour the rest onto the wound, when Warriors stops him.

“Wait, give me your belt.”

Twilight feels stupid for not thinking of that. He pulls off the leather strap that holds his scabbard in place and lets Warriors bite down on it.

“Okay, count of three.” Twilight says, and Warriors shuts his eyes tight in preparation.

“One.”

“Two.” He dumps the alcohol on Warriors’s chest early. The scream his friend lets out is muffled by the belt, but the pained wail that follows breaks his heart.

“I know, I know.” He tries to soothe as he sets to work.

It takes longer than he would’ve liked, and his needlework is not as steady as a seamstress’s, but soon enough he’s wrapping it tight with the bandages he found in Warriors’s pack. Warriors himself passed out half an hour into the procedure, and Twilight is honestly surprised he even lasted that long. The sun is beginning to set outside of their alcove by the time he’s done cleaning up.

He lightly slaps Warriors’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, “oi, wake up.” The tapping rouses him and he blinks slowly in the dim light. Twilight gently tugs the strap out of his mouth and pats his arm.

“Yer all patched up now, Cap’n, let’s get some water in ya and ya can go back ta sleep, aight?”

Warriors just nods weakly and lets Twilight help him hold the water pouch to his lips. The water is lukewarm, but feels like heaven to his abused throat.

“Slowly.”

Warriors takes a few sips before Twilight pulls it away and sets it aside to grab Warriors's blanket out of his bag.

“You rest up, now. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

He leans over Warriors to lightly tuck the corners of the fabric under him to keep it in place. He’s about to stand when a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

“Wait.”

Twilight looks up at Warriors’s piercing blue eyes. The captain’s mouth upturns in a small smile when they lock gazes.

“Thanks, Twi.”

Twilight responds with his own smile and a nod. Warriors releases his grip and pulls the blanket up to his chin.

“Don't stay up too late,” he says, although he knows Twilight will be up until the morning doves cry and the crickets sleep.

“Goodnight, Wars.”

Twilight keeps diligent watch through the night, ignoring the deep yawns and the weary drooping of his eyelids. He sits against the opening of the cave with his sword nearby, watching the world around him wake with the sun. Rabbits chase each other through the underbrush; birds swoop down and peck at exposed soil, hoping for a juicy worm for breakfast.

He peeks back at Warriors sleeping soundly behind him, watches the slow rise and fall of his chest. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. His intense eyes, under furrowed brows, that scrutinized every battlefield was no longer present. He looked as young as he really was; and wasn't that a kicker, how young they all were. How half of them had started their journey when he was still drawing in the dirt with sticks and wrestling in the mud.

He sighs openly into the crisp, cool air, pulling the edges of his pelt tighter over his shoulders to fight off the shiver running down his spine.

“Warriors will be fine,” he tells himself. And when a familiar shout sounds through the trees, and the bright blue of the champion’s tunic makes its way into the clearing, he knows it to be true.

#tw blood #tw injury #tw alcohol #fanfiction #linked universe fanfic #linked universe #warriors linked universe #twilight linked universe #lu warriors #LU Twilight #im sorry jojo #This is not beta read #my writing

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onecanonlife · 3 years ago

Text

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,960)

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

Part Ten: Wilbur II

Wilbur wakes the morning of the election as President of L’Manberg, and he ends the evening of the election as President of L’Manberg, voted back into office by due democratic process.

There are things in between, of course. He reads out the results for all the SMP members to hear, as well as for those who have been following the event from different servers. He makes a speech, promises protection and safety for his citizens, promises renewed growth and prosperity and above all else, freedom from tyranny. He makes a good case for it all, he’s fairly sure, though he forgets the words that he speaks as soon as he leaves his podium.

There’s a bit of a celebration, after. Impromptu, unplanned, but those are the best kind. They all pitch in, scrounge up food and drink and games to play for when they get a bit tipsy, and it’s good.

He smiles through it.

He smiles when Tubbo claps him on the back, hooting and hollering. He smiles when Niki runs up to him and throws her arms around him in an embrace, even though she was running against him. He smiles when Eret sidles up to him, murmuring congratulations and briefly pressing his hand. He even smiles when a few citizens of the Greater SMP come to join in, Sapnap and Punz and Ponk and Karl. He smiles and smiles and smiles, and why shouldn’t he smile?

This is what he wanted. To know that his people continue to have faith in him, that they still believe him best for the job. To hold on to power, but to do it the right way. To be given full permission to assure the safety and freedom of those he loves, and the land that he has made.

The smile only slips twice.

Once: meeting Fundy’s eyes across the way. Fundy breaks his gaze just as quickly, glancing to the side, and he doesn’t come to speak with him. He’s not sure what to do about that. He’s not so blind as to not notice the tension that’s sprung into place between them lately, though he still can’t ascertain its origin. And it’s only gotten worse now, of course—but what did Fundy expect, that he would just let him commit voter fraud? He’s disappointed in his actions, and he can’t disguise that. Shouldn’t have to disguise that, because Fundy ought to know that wasn’t the right thing to do. But that means that his son steers clear of him. And he’ll admit that it hurts. Both for that, and for the fact that Fundy would do such a thing in the first place.

So the smile slips, when no one is looking.

But that is once, and twice comes now: Tommy bounding up to him, grin bright and wild, eyes shining with a light that he hasn’t seen there in—too long. Far, far too long. That light has been present all day, ever since he stepped up to the podium and announced the results, and Tommy let out a whoop and a holler and pumped his fist into the air like he was trying to punch the daylight from the sky, and it was so very Tommy that in that moment, he could feel nothing but relief. In general, Tommy’s seemed very relaxed. Celebratory, jubilant. As he should be.

And now, here he is, beaming, staring him in the face, gripping his arms. Eyes shining.

“How we feeling, big man?” he asks, loud and carefree, and it’s obvious from the way that he asks that he expects a certain kind of answer. Wilbur is more than happy to give it to him. He reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tommy ducks away, but even that scowl doesn’t last for long.

“I’m on top of the world,” he says, and feels his own smile widen. For the first time in a while, he can look at Tommy and not feel pressing worry, not feel a tightness in his chest and a certainty in his bones that something is very, very wrong, that something has happened, and that in some way, he has failed. “We fucking did it, man.”

“We sure fucking did!” Tommy crows. “You and me, best fucking—best fucking day ever. We’re gonna make sure that L’Manberg’s the best country in the literal history of everything. And you’ll be the best president.”

“Of course I will,” he says. “That’s why they’ve elected me.”

Tommy nods sagely. Still grinning. Still bright-eyed. “It’s all going to be alright,” he says, voice lowering just a little. He sounds so very sincere. “Everything’s actually gonna be alright. You’re gonna do so great. You’re gonna do great, right?”

Of course he will. He will not settle for anything less. This duty has been entrusted to him once again, and he will not let his city fail, nor his people fall. He is the one they look to. He built this nation, and he must protect it. He will be great. He has more than just his own hopes riding on his back, and anything less than greatness is unacceptable, both for his own sake and for that of everyone else, for his own legacy and for the seeds planted in the present.

“We’re gonna do great,” he says. “You and I, and all of us.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, and glances around him, at the celebration, still under full swing. Quackity has somehow obtained a stripper pole, and both Karl and Sapnap are looking on in great interest as he displays his talents in that area. Wilbur finds himself watching for a moment too long before tearing his gaze away. But Tommy doesn’t pay mind to any of that—which is good, because he is a child, a little baby man, and maybe he should go over to Quackity and talk about him toning it down, actually, while the minors are here—and instead brings his focus back around to him again.

“They all love you man, y’know?” Tommy says, voice going softer still. He finds his own expression gentling to match.

“They love this,” he agrees. “They love L’Manberg.”

“Because what’s not to love?” Tommy says, nodding in satisfaction. “Really, though, man. You’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna do great. No reason to worry about anything, y’know?”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, coming from you,” he says. “Are there any shenanigans I should know about?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says, swatting at his arm. “I’m gonna go find where Tubbo got off to. But just, have a good night, yeah, Wil? You’ve really earned it. Future’s looking up.”

“I will,” he says. “And you too, Tommy, you’ve earned this just as much as I have. Maybe even more. Go have fun.” He pauses. “And if there do happen to be any shenanigans, let me know, would you? It’s been a while since I took part in any good old-fashioned shenanigans.”

Tommy casts him one last grin, brilliant as any sunrise he’s seen. And then, he’s off, weaving through everyone else. It’s good, that he’s happy. It’s been so long since he’s seemed truly happy. It gives Wilbur hope. Whatever damage was done to him that night, when he chose to give up his discs, maybe he really will bounce back. And he’s noticed that he and Tubbo have been closer again, so maybe that will help, too. Tommy will be okay.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits him, apparently out of nowhere, and his smile slips.

He brings it up again in the next moment. But the fatigue remains—and he supposes it makes sense. It’s been a long, rather stressful day. Perhaps it’s time he turned it in.

Niki’s the first one he finds, and she smiles at his approach. There is still an air of tension about her—lingering frustration, he imagines, at the stunt Fundy tried to pull. He believes her when she says she was unaware. But she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him, thank goodness, because he bears her no ill will for the incident. Or even Fundy—he is disappointed to be sure, but he doesn’t love his son any less. Nothing at all could make that happen. Perhaps he ought to make sure Fundy knows that.

Later, though. When they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“Hey, Wil,” she says. “Good party, huh?”

“It is,” he says. “I’m sort of beat, though, so I think I might go hit the hay, as it were. Just wanted to tell someone before I left, in case anyone wondered.”

“Okay,” she says, and her eyes pinch around the edges a little bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She nods. “It’s been a long day,” she says, echoing his thoughts. “I’ll let everyone know, if they ask.” Her smile returns, full force, and she steps forward and takes his hand in hers. “Really, though, congratulations. I’m really proud of you. Anyone can see how much you care about this place, and that’s why they want you to keep leading it.”

His mouth has, unaccountably, gone slightly dry. “I do care,” he says. “But we all do. I mean, you literally made our flag. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how cool that is.”

“I wanted to,” she says simply, though she’s obviously pleased. “You don’t have to thank me for it. Every country should have a flag.”

“And every country should have someone who cares enough to sew it,” he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

“And I’m glad that this is you,” Niki replies, making a gesture toward the festivities around them, and the empty stage over to the side. Her eyes sharpen. “Even if I kind of wanted to be vice president. But you’re a good leader, Wilbur, and you’re a good man. A good friend. You deserve this. So go get some sleep, alright? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting, and she rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

“Go on,” she insists, but there is laughter in her voice and a crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and she looks happy, too. Everyone looks very happy. Even Fundy seems to be involved in things by now, and Quackity, his fiercest competition, appears to be enjoying himself.

Everyone is happy. So is he. There’s no reason at all for him not to be.

He tells himself that he’s going to go get some sleep, but his feet take him back to his office, instead. It’s empty, cast in a dim haze until he switches on the light, and just like that, the darkness is gone. His eyes flit across his desk, his chair, his shelves, all the paperwork that he’s definitely going to have to deal with, now that he knows for sure that he will continue to lead. He also has a potted plant, though he can’t quite recall who gave it to him. Might have been Tubbo, but he’s not sure.

He doesn’t sit. He goes to the window, presses himself up against it close enough to see the outside rather than his own reflection in the glass. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the country before him, and the walls are looming giants in the deepening night. He can see the cluster of lights where the others are, too, and he can see their dancing shadows, glimpses of their faces, far away echoes of their laughter.

Maybe he ought to go back. Some part of him wants to. He’s not sure why he’s holding himself away.

It’s probably because he’s tired. Because he is. Tired. Very tired.

It has been a long day.

He watches for a moment longer, and then closes his curtains, shutting out the world beyond this room. He turns to his desk, then, and his paperwork, though he’s loath to actually work on anything tonight, despite the fact that there’s a million things he could be doing. Drafting a formal missive to Dream, for instance, in light of his official election to power. Ensuring continued good standings between their nations—because as little as he likes the man, he’s not going to provoke him again, if it can be helped.

Especially not with Tommy—the way that he is. Not until he’s gotten to the bottom of that, and probably not even after.

So, he should write to Dream. He should also write to Phil. Tell him about what’s been going on. He’s been considering asking for advice on the whole Tommy situation, actually—Phil’s old as balls, so maybe he might know what to do, or even what this could be about. It’s a long shot, of course, but it’s worth a try.

Except he doesn’t particularly want to do either of those things. Not at the moment. But then, that doesn’t leave him with a whole lot of options, so why did he come here in the first place if he didn’t intend to do something? He ought to go to bed, like he said he would.

But then—

“Hey, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and he looks up, blinking. Quackity’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Somewhere along the line, he’s regained his clothes. “Knock, knock.”

“Quackity,” he says. “Good to see you. Here, come in, pull up a chair.”

Quackity quirks a brow, but that seems to be all the invitation he needs. He all but saunters in, grabbing one of the chairs and tugging it right up against the desk.

“I actually did want to speak with you at some point,” he continues.

“Then this works out, doesn’t it?” Quackity says. “I had the same idea. I figured we should clear the air or something like that. If it even needs clearing, I dunno. What do you think?”

“It certainly can’t hurt to talk,” he agrees.

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well, I guess I should start off by saying good job. Congrats on winning.” He smiles, and there’s something sharp in it, something of a challenge. Wilbur can’t say that he hates it; it’s good to be challenged, every now and then. And now, there’s less danger in it, his position secure. “Though I really gave you a run for your money, didn’t I? And Jack, of course.”

Jack’s name is added as an afterthought. He’s always had the impression that Quackity would rather have picked someone else for his running mate. But he left it fairly late, and by the time he decided that he definitely wanted one, there weren’t many people left to choose from. Tubbo wouldn’t have joined him, and Eret stayed out of the whole affair, and in terms of L’Manberg citizens, that pretty much just left Jack Manifold.

He wonders who Quackity would have chosen, if he’d had free reign of the SMP. Somehow, he’s glad that didn’t happen. Good foresight, on Tommy’s part, to add that restriction. And a good idea in general, too.

“You did,” he says with a nod. “It was a good showing. You were the one I was worried about, to be honest with you. If anyone could have beaten me, it would have been you.”

“You’re damn right,” Quackity answers. “We got close. But no cigar, I guess. There’s always next time.”

Next time. Next time.

Right. Elections are a fairly regular thing. He’ll have to do this again.

Right, no, that’s—fine. It’s fine. And it wouldn’t be for a while yet, so he doesn’t even have to think about it right now.

“But I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us,” Quackity says. He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that only two legs rest on the floor, and he regards him. “I mean, I meant what I said on the campaign trail, and I still stand by it. I don’t know that you’re taking this country in the best direction, Wilbur. I don’t know that it’s not gonna—stagnate, under you, or that Dream won’t come up and declare war again. I meant all of that. But it’s not like I don’t like you as a person, and you’ve won fair and square, so I was hoping we could put our differences behind us. Let bygones be bygones and all that.”

He’s heard everything that Quackity has to say on the matter of his leadership, and hearing it all again is a bit—irritating. But the honesty is refreshing, was then and still is now, and he’d rather these things be said to his face than whispered behind his back.

And also, there’s the fact that it’s Quackity. It was Tommy who convinced him to let him join in the first place, but the man’s grown on him, he’ll confess.

“I would have trusted you to lead,” he admits, and meets Quackity’s gaze squarely. “I disagree with you on quite a few matters, but I believe that you have L’Manberg’s best interests at heart. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge.”

He speaks nothing but the truth. Quackity is—not precisely the vision he has in mind for L’Manberg’s future. But he cares about this place, that much is obvious. So if Quackity had won, he would have bowed out gracefully, would have established himself some property and entered a graceful retirement, at—at peace. Surely at peace, all of his questions answered and his guidance unneeded. His person no longer required.

His stomach turns, a gut-churning combination of longing and revulsion flooding him, impacting him so intensely that it’s a half-second scramble to make sure that none of it shows on his face, to lock everything back down again, to be interpreted later or forgotten about, depending on his mood.

“That’s great to hear,” Quackity says. “Friends?”

Quackity sticks out his hand.

“Friends,” he agrees, and takes it.

“Fantastic,” Quackity says. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures broadly, lips twitching upward. “Niki said you were gonna get some sleep, so I’d do that before she finds out you’re not.”

He can’t help but laugh, and Quackity stands. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he says. “Good night, Quackity.”

“Night, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and turns to go. But then, he stops in the doorway, looking back. “I just gotta ask, though, why all of this? Why have an election at all? Why risk losing? If you wanted to stay in charge, why not just stay in charge? No one would’ve questioned you, but instead, you put on all of this. Just to keep a position you ended up keeping anyway.”

Ah. His mind blanks for a moment, because he doesn’t know how to describe to Quackity the fact that people were already questioning him, if he didn’t pick up on that. But surely, he must have; Quackity himself built his entire campaign around questioning him. His right to lead, his capability, his intentions. And those sentiments could not have come from nowhere.

To be honest, he’s not certain that he has the words to explain it to himself, either.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, “in regards to your running.”

Quackity stands there for a moment. And then tilts his head.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilbur,” he says, and his next smile is a wry thing. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, he’s gone.

And Wilbur does know.

He is not blind to Quackity’s desire for power. His desire to do something good with it, to be sure—he’s never caught any malice in his seeking. But what he seeks is power, and there is no mistaking that. Sometimes, Wilbur looks in his eyes and sees a reflection of himself. Paler, different, slanted, but a reflection nonetheless. He has heard the siren’s call of ambition and heard it well, and he recognizes that in Quackity, and Quackity recognizes it in him.

But it’s not just about power. Not for him, anyway. Or rather, it is power, to be sure, but it’s the power to keep safe. To protect. To be free. And to build something great, something that will outlive him, something that will make him worthy of the looks in people’s eyes when they meet his. That’s what it was about. And that’s why the election mattered.

Though for a moment, he lets himself picture it: retirement. A house, with plenty of room. Time to spare, for everyone and everything. A guitar, finally tuned again. A warm summer’s day, and a crisp autumn’s evening. No pressure, few responsibilities, and an hour or several to sit under his own vine and fig tree.

But he doesn’t think he’s made for things like that, really.

And even besides, these idle speculations don’t matter. Quackity didn’t win, and he remains president of this nation. There will be no quiet retirement, not yet. There is so much work that he has to do, and he can feel all those future tasks piling on his shoulders, weights stacking on his skin, clinging like barnacles on a weathered, abandoned pier.

And it’s all alright, because it’s what he wants.

Without this, where would he stand? With himself, and with the others? They all look to him for a reason, so what would happen if that reason were gone?

No. Best not to let his mind wander down that path.

His ambitions are realized. The elections are over. His people are happy, and they still want him. They still believe he can do right by them. They are celebrating his victory even now. Tommy was smiling, and there was none of that strange, terrifying darkness in his gaze.

He has everything he wants.

He checks his communicator, idly. There’s a few messages from people on the server, those who aren’t at the party. Most are congratulatory. There’s Dream, asking for a meeting already, but he anticipated that. There’s even a few messages from people off-world, and he raises an eyebrow at those—inter-server communication costs a pretty penny, so he’s a bit surprised that Technoblade put the effort in to send a message that just says lame. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. And Schlatt’s sent him some snarky congratulations, and he supposes he should answer him, since he went through the trouble. Though he’s not going to invite him, still, no matter how nice it might be to catch up. Not until he figures out what Tommy’s problem with him is, and whether it’s solvable.

But he types out a response to both, a quick Like you can talk, Potato Man to Techno and something a bit longer and properly sarcastic to Schlatt, wincing at the cost of shooting the messages through the void, across worlds, and then sets his communicator to the side. Stares at his desk, then at the covered window. He can still hear them.

He stopped smiling at some point. He doesn’t know when.

He picks up his pen, then sets it back down again. Drags a paper closer with his index finger, and then pushes it back. Slips his hand into his pocket to find his glasses, and then brings it out again, empty of everything but dust.

There’s work to do, and he should either get started or he should go to sleep, but his brain doesn’t seem to want to get the memo. So he sits.

He’s tired. That’s why he’s in this kind of mood. He’s tired, so he’ll just sit here until he feels ready to get some true rest, and it’ll all look better in the morning. Not that it doesn’t look good now.

But he is very tired.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #quackity #nihachu #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #if this fic were divided into acts #this would mark the end of act 1 :)

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calamitys-child · 3 years ago

Note

Im a trans guy and was wondering - do you have any advice on like, where to start with packing in general or more specifically buying a packer? No worries of not, have a good day:)

Absolutely I do! Divided below into three sections for ease of perusal, feel free to ask if you need anything else! Nothing in good faith is automatically off limits, if its one of the rare cases I'm uncomfortable I'll let you know and no hard feelings :)

UNDERWEAR: You can buy packer specific underwear, but it's frequently a bit pricy. I personally use one of two methods. If you buy boxers with what's described as a Keyhole Front (I get mine from Primark usually) the front will be made of two overlapping layers, in between which is a pocket that fits a packer well. If you're a little more into your DIY, you can sew a pocket into the front easy enough - there's plenty of simple tutorials online, I'm currently tipsy but if you want to remind me later I'll show you how I make mine specifically. Both have slight differences and pros and cons but they're more or less interchangeable in my experience, no major differences. You can also buy strap on harnesses that take the form of boxers with an O-ring in the front, which I have never personally used for daily packing but which I've heard vouched for as a good option. Places to buy: primark, spectrum outfitters

PACKERS: I, and almost everyone I know, started with a pair of socks. A packer doesn't have to be a specific thing, it's just anything that creates a realistic bulge in your underwear. Socks work well! Highly recommend them, especially if you're on a budget or not out to folk who you live with. You can also get foam packers, basically a sort of padded semicircle (is there a word for dome but oval?) which does the job. I have one that I use sometimes, it's not my favourite but it's good and cheap. My first penis-shaped one was the Mr Limpy XS (3.5 inch), which is great but you have to position it carefully so it doesn't look like you have a boner - I recommend packing 'up', ie having the shaft part pointing up the way, with that. I recently got a Calexotics 4inch which is good, a bit more solid and it Feels much larger. One thing worth noting is that the Mr Limpy is 3.5 inch measured from like. The back of the balls/the longest possible length whereas the Calexotics is 4inch measured from where the shaft and scrotum separate, if that makes sense. If measured the same way it would be 3.5 vs 6inch or 2.5 vs 4inch approximately. Types of packer are up to personal preference, the one piece of advice I'd give is never go higher than a small - these are made by people who think "8 inches is average, right?". Trust me, bigger than a small for daily wear will almost certainly just be uncomfortable. Places to buy: spectrum outfitters, most places that sell sex toys and similar

ACCESSORIES, and no I don't mean the fact I impulsively gave myself a prince albert through a packer, though that is very fun and I do recommend it. Basically, I've just talked about packers that only act as packers, cause that's all I use and I dinnae know much about anything else. You can get STP (stand to pee) packers which, as the name suggests, let you use the bathroom standing up ie at a urinal. You can also get things known as Pack And Play, meaning they can be used in sex. "Play" is also occasionally divided into referring to things you can use sexually with a partner and things which provide sexual stimulation to the wearer, but again, I can't give personal advice on those. Places to buy: I only know Peecock and Reelmagik which are SUPER fancy and expensive, but I know cheaper and easier ones def exist

There will be a deal of footering about involved, but that's normal! I discovered today that I need a smaller/tighter pouch to hold my calexotics one than my Mr limpy and had to improvise by using a safety pin to make the pouch smaller as a quick fix. Also, unless its legitimately a whole strap on, nobody is staring as much as you think they are, I promise.

Good luck and have fun in finding a kind of packing that works for you!!

#Trans stuff

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funkwhistle · 4 years ago

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Bruises

Pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of dubious content later

Prompt: 3.3k - Reader and Dutch being a secret thing in camp and at Clemens Point reader removes more clothes/changes and reveals these almighty hickeys and finger shaped bruises covering their body. - from @dragonwolf121 -

(Image is mine - don’t reupload without credit)

The hot summer rain had let up for a few minutes this morning, but it was back with vengeance by noon, drumming heavily on the tents and turning the usually dry grass in camp into muddy swathes. Cain loved these, of course, rolling in them and shaking mud on everything whenever he could. Miss Grimshaw had let you off any jobs which required you to leave the little shelter provided by the girls' wagon. Occasionally, someone left camp for some reason, and returned a few hours later looking dishevelled and like a drowned rat; even though the rain was warm, the air was cooling rapidly.

You were sitting cutting vegetables for the stew next to Tilly, watching as the rain created ripples on the lake. On the other side of camp, Arthur and Dutch were huddled, whispering, in the opening to the latter's tent, although it mostly involved pointing at the rain and scowling. As you were watching them, Dutch caught your eye and you could see the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face as he looked at you, turning back to the conversation before Arthur caught what he was looking at.

Just his look alone made you forget what you'd been doing, your heart dancing happily in your chest at the fact he was happy to see you. Chancing another glance, you could tell he wasn't as absorbed in the conversation as before, his eyes kept flitting to yours over Arthur's shoulder and he kept shifting awkwardly. You hoped he was thinking of what you were; how the pair of you had spent the majority of the last night.

You sighed as he moved, placing languid, open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. His hands held the top of your thighs, digging bruises into your skin as you straddled his lap on the bed, head tilted to the side to give him better access to your neck. The pair of you had been at this for a while, enjoying the comfort of the other's arms, and the soft kisses you placed on each other. Dutch, however, clearly had other ideas as he rolled his hips into yours, making you let out another breathy sigh, aware that all that was separating you from the rest of camp was four thin canvas walls.

“I've missed this,” he hummed, attacking your neck again with kisses which made your eyes flutter closed. He'd been away on a job with the Sheriff for a few days, and tonight was the first night the pair of you could reunite without suspicion. You couldn't remember how you'd lived at camp before seeing him, these illicit nighttime visits brought a thrill to your comparatively mundane life.

Much to your disappointment, however, he pulled away from you, allowing the both of you to catch a breath and look at the other's face; the pupils in his dark eyes were blown wide, and his usually well-pomaded hair was ruffled as a result of your roaming hands. You loved to see him like this, the usually powerful gang leader covered in smudged lipstick and eyes full of lust for you. Just thinking this made you smile, and you kissed him again, making him groan a little as you rolled your hips.

“Hello? Are you in there?” Tilly was waving her hand in front of your face, shaking you back into the present and making you realise you'd been staring into the distance, vegetables long forgotten in front of you. “What were you thinking about?” she asked, moving to sit beside you again, she was sewing Karen's dress which had a fresh tear in.

“Obviously it was something saucy, she's gone all red!” Mary-Beth laughed, throwing a cloth at you. You knew she loved the romance books, her nose always buried in one, driving Miss Grimshaw mad and making the rest of camp laugh. Shaking your head dismissively at Mary-Beth, you laughed their comments off, repressing the memory in favour of chopping tonight's stew vegetables.

The remainder of the afternoon passed without interest, the rain stopped as the evening drew in, allowing you to leave the wagon and walk around camp to stretch your legs. You'd walked to the edge of camp, sitting on a damp branch to look out over the lake when you heard footsteps behind you. Knowing you were outside camp now, you hand found the knife in your boot, wrapping your fingers around the familiar handle as the footsteps neared. Heart pounding, you spun around to point the knife at the oncoming stranger.

“Well, that's one way to greet me,” Dutch chuckled lightly, grabbing your hand and redirecting the knife away from his face as he walked to sit beside you on the log. You tucked the blade back into your boot, shuffling so he could sit comfortably, slightly embarrassed at your reaction to him approaching.

“You know someone could see us,” you objected, although you wished nothing more than for the pair of you to sit together for a little longer.

“Nobody dares to follow me out of camp aside from Hosea, and he's drinking again,” Dutch smiled a little as he said this, placing his hand on your knee, making your heart leap to your throat. Glancing behind you, you leaned so your head was on his shoulder, you felt him pressing a kiss onto the top of your head as you sighed in bliss, this was where you were happy.

You sat there for a while, enjoying listening to his breathing, and how his hands moved over your knee; both of you looking out over Flat Iron Lake, seeing birds on the island fight over some food, and, occasionally, a silver glimpse of a fish in the water. It was relaxing, and it took your mind off the worries of camp, or of the next job the man beside you was plotting.

This tranquillity didn't last long, however, and Dutch's hand kept riding higher and higher up your thigh, making your mind race into all manner of possible situations. Before you could say anything to him, he'd turned to look expectantly at you, indicating his lap. Happily, you straddled his lap, all previous inhibitions disregarded in anticipation to feel his lips on yours again. Even though he'd kissed you last night, you felt as though he was a drug you couldn't yet quit. And you didn't have to wait long, as he crashed his lips onto yours without hesitation.

Compared to the romantic, gentle kisses you'd exchanged last night, these were harsh and full of need from both of you - you'd been hiding this relationship since Blackwater. Quickly, the kisses moved from your lips to your jaw, to your neck. Then the kisses turned into gentle bites and licks, sure to leave their mark on tomorrow's skin. His hands found your thighs again, like last night, ensuring you couldn't move away from him as he continued his loving attack on your neck.

“We can't do this here,” you said, realising where this was headed and twisting away so you could look at him. “Someone could come and see us,” He nodded, placing a quick kiss upon your lips; while neither of you were happy with this decision, you moved from his lap, his hands still touching any part of you he could as you sat back down next to him.

“Come see me again tonight,” he said quietly, taking in his handiwork over your neck.

“I'll be late, I think Karen suspects something, she asked where I was last night,”

“I don't mind,” Dutch murmured, pressing a final kiss onto your cheek before he stood up, offering you a hand up as well. “I'll see you later my dear,” You smiled a little at his last statement, watching him disappear back through the trees to camp while you stood, thinking about him.

You pulled your coat up in order to hide the bruises forming on your neck, deciding to change as soon as you reached camp into something high-necked, praying nobody would speak to you as you did.

Fortunately, your prayers were answered, most of the camp was gathered around the campfire, making it easy for you to go to the wagon and change. Although as you snuck through camp, you could swear you had the attention of a Mr Van Der Linde who was very much enjoying your reaction. You could feel his smirk from across camp as you reemerged from changing, knowing he'd make a sarcastic remark about it tonight, before adding to the collection on your neck.

The night progressed, and you sat with the other girls, laughing over Sean's drunken singing and Uncle threatening to flash him if he doesn't shut up. You'd managed to drink a few beers, and everything was tinted with the blissfulness of feeling tipsy, somehow the awful jokes Bill told were funnier, and Lenny's dancing seemed almost professional. It wasn't until Miss Grimshaw came and told you all off for being up late did you go to bed, giggling over something trivial with Mary-Beth.

You removed the extra layers you'd been wearing, the darkness covering the bruises on your neck as you all settled onto the roll mats; praying the rain did not return overnight, the damp ground could be felt through your mat, but you were consoled by the fact you'd be nestled in Dutch's bed soon enough.

Fortunately, alcohol let the others get to sleep fast, Karen was soon snoring loudly, and you wiggled into a sitting position, so you could pull your coat around you and sneak to his tent. Javier and Micah were still sitting by the fire, so you made an effort to remain in the shadows, knowing if they realised where you were going you'd be subjected to endless teasing.

“Psst-” you hissed, fiddling fruitlessly with the catch on Dutch's tent, until you felt his fingers over yours, undoing it with ease and letting you into the warmth. The small wood burner was blazing, and some of his wet clothes were hung up to dry in front of it. You were endlessly jealous of this, your dresses had to dry at the whim of nature, praying it would remain sunny enough for them to dry before another rainfall. Dutch noticed you shiver a little at the temperature change, indicating for you to sit by the fire until you were warmer.

“Are you alright my dear?” he settled down beside you, wrapping you in his warm arms, sitting behind you on the pallet floor.

“I'm alright, just tired of the rain,”

He opened the book carefully in front of you, looking over your shoulder to read, his large hands engulfing the small book, rings shining in the light from the fire as he started to read.

“Me too,” Dutch replied, and after a little deliberation, he shifted from you, picking up something you couldn't see before moving back to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Can I read to you?” you nodded, noticing the book he had clasped in his hands, a well-worn copy you'd seen him read regularly, always seeming to be completely absorbed in it. You could feel him smile, knowing he loved nothing more than to speak about what he was reading with anyone who stood still long enough.

“The human race has travelled a long way, since those remote ages when men fashioned their rude implements…” you were only half listening to him, watching how the flames licked up the logs on the fire and revelled in the comfort of his arms. If you could sit here, blissfully warm in the arms of this man you could die in peace.

“…of flint and lived on the precarious spoils of hunting, leaving to their children for their only heritage…” Leaning your head, you rested it on his chest, letting it rise and fall in time with his breathing.

“…a shelter beneath the rocks, some poor utensils—and Nature, vast, unknown, and terrific, with whom they had to fight for their wretched existence.” Dutch paused for a moment, glancing down at you now, curled up with your head on his chest. As much as you were enjoying listening to him read, you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep here.

“Come on my dear,” Carefully, Dutch moved from behind you, scooping you up and transferring you from the warm spot on the fire to the comparatively soft bed. His hands carefully pulled you dress you'd neglected to remove earlier, his movements soft, as though you could be broken if he pulled too hard. You laughed a little as he fumbled with one of the clasps on your boot, and you leant down to undo it with ease, making him huff a little.

Once you were rid of your outerwear, you lay down, pulling some of the furs over you as you watched Dutch remove the many layers of shirts and expensive vests in exchange for a red union shirt. While he was undressing, he would carefully hang his clothes on a singular hanger, ensuring they would not get a crease in. Anything he could not hang, such as his treasured pocket watch and pipe, would sit on one of the crates beside the bed.

Dutch crawled under the covers with you, pulling you close so he could nestle his face in the crook of your neck, your back pressed to his chest. His breaths ghosted over the kisses he'd placed earlier, you could feel his eyelashes fluttering on your neck, sending shivers down your back. You shuffled to get comfortable, finding your eyes were beginning to drift shut. Quietly, behind you, Dutch's breathing was deeper, occasionally letting out a quiet snore as you drifted to sleep.

Morning light pierced its way into the tent, and you found yourself being shaken awake by Dutch. Not wanting to get up, you buried your face further into the bed, knowing you had to leave soon or you'd be caught out. Camp was stirring, Pearson could be heard tending to the fire and clanking bowls together for some breakfast; soon enough the other girls would be up, and then you'd have no reason for your absence.

“Come on dear,” Dutch was handing you clothes which you pulled on haphazardly, not caring if you looked presentable in them. He did your boots up as you pulled on your thick coat, you could say you'd been on a walk. As he stood up, he placed a kiss on your lips, pulling you to him before holding the opening to the tent, allowing you to leave. Quickly, you snuck out the tent, hurrying to the wagon, praying the others had not woken up yet and you could sneak into bed unnoticed - usually you wouldn't have stayed so long with Dutch, leaving in the early hours of the morning instead of at breakfast time.

Your prayers were not answered however, Karen was sat, propped against the wheel of the wagon, plaiting some grass. The other girls were still fast asleep, but you knew you'd have to lie to her. As you approached, she looked up, cocking an eyebrow at your dishevelled appearance and overnight disappearance.

“I went for a walk?” you whispered, careful not to wake anyone as you neared Karen, but she shook her head, before indicating you to follow her to the water's edge. You didn't have much choice in the matter, so you followed, thanking god that the ground was dry enough to walk on now.

“Where were you, if someone found out- they think there's a rat already-” Karen hissed, as you both looked out over the lake, glad for your warm coat as the cool morning breeze swept off the lake.

“Do you want my coat?” you offered, pulling it off your shoulders and handing it to her, which she accepted, pulling it around her. You stood there in silence for a little while, you could tell Karen was thinking, trying to put the pieces together. Before either of you could speak, you heard Micah yelling behind you,

“I just went for a walk, as I said,”

“I heard you leave last night, that's one long walk,” you threw her a glare at this, she'd caught you out, you didn't have an excuse for this. Karen looked pleased with herself, although she was shivering with cold - she was still wearing just a thin slip dress.

“Come on! Breakfast ain't gonna make itself is it ladies?” you could hear his footsteps approaching, ready to say something about Karen or you again. Both of you turned at the same time, watching as he sauntered down towards you; however, his approach was halted when he caught a glimpse of you. Not knowing what he was looking at, you checked your hair and dress, sure you didn't look amazing, but you weren't flashing anyone.

“Well, what have we here?” Micah ignored his favourite target, Karen, in favour of approaching you, almost standing on your toes he was so close. You could smell the stench of last night's alcohol on his breath, and his moustache had the remnants of last night's stew on it still, something you'd never wished to discover. His fingers ghosted over your neck before you realized what had caught his interest; the dress you were wearing was low cut, exposing the purpling bruises over your neck from yesterday.

“Who gave you these sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dripping in false sweetness, his hands roaming from the edge of your neck to the top of your dress. “Didn't realise you were quite this much of a whore?” you whispered this last word, his spit hitting the side of your face. Your heart was pounding, wanting nothing more than to smack the smirk off his face, but knowing if you did so he was stronger than you were.

Over his shoulder, Karen was averting her eyes, glad not to be the target of his merciless comments. By now, Micah was hissing about how much you charged in your ear, and you took a step back from him, feeling the water flood into your boots in an attempt to get away from him.

“Mister Bell,” a very familiar voice called loudly across camp, shocking the both of you and making him step back from you rapidly. Dutch was standing at the opening of his tent, his face dark with thunder at Micah, anger etched in every line. This was the first time you'd seen Micah listen to something someone said, as he backed away from you, not without a parting comment,

“Well, I guess we know who the lucky guy is then?” You swore under your breath at him, pulling at your dress as he walked away, towards Dutch's tent. Breathing deeply, your heart rate slowed, now that Micah was far from you and you could move from the water, feeling your boots squelch with each step they made. After Dutch's yelling, the whole camp was up, most of them unequivocally staring at you on the shoreline. You could feel your face heating up, knowing they could all see the bruises as well.

Karen offered your coat back to you, and you pulled it on, hiding your neck from inquisitive eyes as you both returned to the main camp. As you passed people, there were hushed whispers, rumours about where the bruises came from. Your face was hot, so you hid behind the wagon, changing into a high necked dress and attempting to silence the tears of shame that ran down your face.

A/N: This is the longest single chapter I’ve written (it’s not much at 3.3k, but I like shorter ones?), and this took a while. Also sorry about the Micah slander at the end, I’m writing a Micah fluff in some sort of redemption for that XD.

(ik I did not tag this as fem!reader at the start - it's been changed!)

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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42 Touching for Alisaie and Remi? :D

Goldendale, following the fight with Coryvel

Alisaie looked around the bedroom at Fort Cupcake that she shared with Remi, more than a little rueful as she glanced at the badly burned clothes and small pile of singed hair by the chest at the foot of the bed, on which Alisaie sat, brushing last strands of hair off her shoulders. Then she glanced to the mirror, looking at the results of Remi's efforts to trim the scorched bits away while retaining as much of the length as possible. The result was even but asymmetrical, and the short-shorn ends on one side tickled her ear a little. "If I wear that hair comb Ava gave me," she said, "and braid it down the opposite shoulder, that should hide the worst of it. Thanks," she added, looking away from her reflection to smile at Remi. "I don't think I'd cut my own hair nearly as well as you did."

Remi, standing behind Alisaie as she tucked her dagger away, shrugged with a slightly bashful smile. "You're welcome. I cut my own sometimes, when it's getting too shaggy. It'a a lot easier doing it on someone else."

"Hmm. I'll have to try doing yours sometime." Alisaie reached for the longer ends of her hair to pull them around, starting her attempt at a braid. "I used to do haircuts for the staff at the Tipsy Pixie. Though I had scissors. I should have asked Miranda if she had sewing scissors ... but that would have deprived me of seeing how nimble those hands of yours can be ... with a smaller blade," she added, her smile turning into a teasing, promising grin. "I know how well you use them in a lot of other ways."

Remi didn't bother trying to stifle the giggle that comment brought out (Alisaie considered that alone a gift beyond measure from the usually composed and stoic not-quite-paladin). Instead, she reached forward to touch Alisaie's hand, stilling the aasimar's efforts at self-braiding. "Let me help you with that."

Alisaie took her hands away without hesitation in a show of absolute trust, even as she asked, "If you want to, but ... have you ever braided hair before?"

"Once or twice." Remi smiled a bit sadly at the memory of Beverley, one of the Combine's soldiers, who had worn her hair in a braid wound around her head to act as padding for her helm, and sometimes needed assistance. "Not ... recently," came the admission, after a moment of minor fumbling. "And not often. But once or twice."

Alisaie accepted that, though the next bit of minor fumbling got a slight huff of a chuckle that was more sheepish than anything else. "Yeah; my hair's a lot. This is the first time it's been cut since I was about thirteen, so ... you know. Lotta hair."

"I like it. Not just how it looks - though it looks great." Remi was conscious that while not precisely vain, Alisaie did appreciate looking her best, and anyone who grew out their hair that long was going to be sensitive about how it looked after it was shortened against her will, so she was quick to make the assurance. "It's just ... nice to have my hands in."

That got another chuckle from Alisaie. "I'll bypass the five or six naughty remarks that brings to mind and just say that the feeling's mutual. I mostly did my own until I lost those gold clips. There's definitely a feeling of being cared for having someone else do it."

Since that was at least part of what Remi was going for, and the kind of thing Remi had a hard time verbalising, Remi blushed and smiled ... and then cursed as she managed to tangle her fingers into the braid in that moment of distraction. "Oh. Oops!"

Alisaie just laughed. "It's okay." She reached into her haversack and grabbed a brush. "I can take over if you want, once you get untangled--"

"Noooo no no no." Remi gently took the brush from Alisaie's hand, though she knew that if Alisaie had really wanted to keep hold of it, the outcome of the contest would have been very uncertain. "I'll get it. I mean, I do need the practice."

"You don't--" Seeing the futility of telling Remi it wasn't necessary, Alisaie gave a cheerful sigh of surrender and said, "Okay, but now I'm really glad I didn't ask for anything complicated, like an inverse braid or something. Pretty, but complicated."

Remi frowned a bit thoughtfully, but stored that aside for later as she untangled her fingers from Alisaie's hair and started brushing it smooth again. The contented sigh she got from Alisaie suggested that brushing, at least, was something Remi did very well right from the outset. Learning braiding would take far more time and effort if she wanted to go beyond the basics.

Several weeks later, in a fancy resort hotel in Egref

"That feels different."

Remi grinned a little, standing behind the vanity stool in their honeymoon suite. Then she surreptitiously checked the diagram in the book she'd received from, of all people, her father. Amell Crestwind apparently knew his daughter far better than Remi could have imagined, and had passed a book titled "101 Braided Hairstyles" along to her at their pre-wedding lunch. "Thought it'd be useful for you both," he'd said, and the tone said more - how Remi had always been a tactile sort of individual and hair like Alisaie's was a glorious plaything for someone like that; how Remi was as sparing with words as Amell himself was (Corri spoke enough for husband and daughter both) and would probably appreciate another way to show her new wife affection. The less said about the apparent age of the book, and the suggestion that Amell once did Corri's hair and probably did to this day, the better.

Pushing those thoughts back into the 'how my parents met' box where they belonged, Remi just said, "I'm trying something a little different this time."

Alisaie raised her eyebrows in interested curiosity, but apparently decided to make Remi's life easier by sitting still. "Just for reassurance, 'different' isn't bad--" There was a minor wince as Remi pulled a little harder than she'd meant to, and one of Alisaie's new wings stretched out in a sort of reflex action that thwapped Remi in the shoulder. "Oh, shit; sorry!"

"It's okay! It's okay! Sorry - I didn't mean to pull." Remi went back to weaving the long white-gold hair into the patterns she wanted, being more careful so she didn't earn another hit from a wing. "Guess we're going to need to get used to that, too."

Alisaie gave a careful shrug, as much to keep her wings still as to avoid moving too much and making things harder for Remi. "There are worse things, Ree. I'm not going to talk too much shit about the most epic wedding present ever. But I might ask whatever aarakocra tailor we find about finger-preening the feathers. I know birds do it, so it'd be good to know."

"For both of us," Remi added with an anticipatory sort of smile. She enjoyed braiding Alisaie's hair as much as Alisaie enjoyed having it braided, and adding an extra bit of grooming on feathers as soft as the ones on Alisaie's wings was no hardship at all.

"Okay, if you insist." The words were offhand, but the tone was bashfully pleased; she clearly liked the idea.

"I do," Remi said, focusing on the last foot or so of Alisaie's hair.

She could hear the grin in Alisaie's voice when she replied, "You said that yesterday, if I remember right."

Remi chuckled. "So did you. And I think I'm done." She tied the end of Alisaie's hair with a bit of gold ribbon and stepped back, watching to see how Alisaie was going to check on the 'something a little different'.

The chuckle became a full-on laugh as Alisaie ran a finger along the chain that ran from the earring in her ear to her eyebrow, using her daily charge of Clairvoyance in the place of carefully positioned mirrors. Her tone was delighted when she said, "You did an inverse braid! When'd you learn to do that?"

Remi held up the book a little sheepishly. "I ... got some help. Let me know if there are others in here you might like?"

Alisaie didn't respond to that verbally, but the deep, heartfelt kiss she gave Remi was answer enough.

#hyperewok1 #Fic #Alisaie #PROMPTS FOR THE PROMPT GOD #WORDS FOR THE WORD THRONE

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years ago

Text

On and Off

Taeyong x ballerina!reader // FLUFF, SMUT, angst? idol!au Summary: The first few months of being in a relationship with Taeyong was normal as it could be. Exchanging text massages, dates, phone call from evening until morning. But as you dive deeper into the relationship and months turned into years, you realised that normal will be something hard to achieve. Word Count: 5k Warnings: Protected and unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of other idols, loneliness, anxiety, pressure, Note: few notes again hihi -Inspired by my one and only keshi - onoffonoff please listen to his music its amazing I literally only listen to him these past few days. -This is another part/story of my life, so I could only hope no one steals my work. Because this is inspire by true events, except the pregnancy part. And the good ending, mine didn’t end well haha

It has been years since you kissed Taeyong for a stupid dare, not knowing who he is and not knowing he’s a famous idol in his country. You were clueless, simple as that. Little did you know that kiss will literally change your life. Was it luck or was it destiny that brought Taeyong in your life? After kissing him that night he stick to you like glue insisting to spend more time together and drink and dance the whole night.

One thing led to another, and Taeyong just keeps coming back to you and you welcome him with open arms. Thanks to Google, you learned a lot about Taeyong. All the basic stuff about who he is, what about him and finally being a fan of NCT. Its funny how dating Taeyong over the years made your life complicated and exciting at the same time. You figured, maybe it’s because you’re crazy with each other that’s why.

Ever since Taeyong came into your life your heart is half and half. The first half is for your first love which is dancing ballet and the other half is for someone extraordinary, Taeyong.

The first few months of being in a relationship with Taeyong was normal as it could be. Exchanging text massages, dates, phone call from evening until morning. But as you dive deeper into the relationship and months turned into years, you realised that normal will be something hard to achieve.

A lot of adjustments happened in order to continue being together. For you it’s understanding that Taeyong is someone important not just to you and his family but to a lot of people around the world. Helping him sort out his thoughts while writing lyrics and listening to whatever he says to you. Stay with him at the studio even if means burying yourself at the studio couch and binge watch Netflix while waiting for him to finish recording. For Taeyong, his love language is massaging your sore feet from ballet practice and picking you up every night after his work. Watching your performance giving his full support, emotionally and physically.

You’re each other’s number one fan.

OFF

During ballet practice today, your toes are already bleeding from hard work which something you don’t regret on doing. But the company was having an earful from the director tonight, never ending “do it again” and “from the top” everyone wanted to cry. Good thing Taeyong will pick you up after ballet practice, finally something to look forward to. Or so you thought.

It’s already 9pm, practice was dismissed half an hour ago and Taeyong still hasn’t come yet. The rain is pouring outside and your feet and toes needs to rest. You’ve left a dozen messages to Taeyong already but still, no answer. Before you decide on waiting a little more, his manager called you to tell you that Taeyong forgot to pick you up tonight and that he can’t leave anytime soon. You don’t have a choice but to take the subway and walk under the rain with your small umbrella. Your wet flats makes your bruises even worse, you feel the pain every step you make but the thing that’s even more painful is Taeyong didn’t picked you up when you needed him the most. You can only let out a string of curses here and there and cheer yourself to keep on walking.

When you finally got home you went straight to the bathroom limping and cleaned your bruises. Too tired to even stand up, you still have to make your shoes and sew a little bit for tomorrow’s practice. Still thinking about how heavy your day was, you sat in front of the mirror while sewing and waiting for Taeyong to come home.

After preparing everything you need for practice tomorrow, you head to the kitchen and made dinner for Taeyong. Maybe he’s hungry when he got home? A few minutes later, you heard the door beep. Taeyong startled you and hugged you from behind, you already sensed something is off. “Sorry about earlier” Of course you wanted to ask him but you didn’t want to pry, he looks exhausted as you are.

He kissed you good night on the forehead not even letting you to kiss him back as he walks towards your shared room and change. That’s it? He’s never like this and you wonder why, you reflect on the past days but all you can only recall are days full of laughter with him.

The morning after, you were at the kitchen making your green smoothy when the same arms from last night encircled to your waist. Familiar kisses landed to your cheeks and neck, “Good morning” Taeyong greeted you with a raspy voice, his chin rests on your neck. “I’m sorry about last night, I forgot to pick you up and… our come back has slow process, everyone doesn’t look good” you wanted to throw a fit and push him away but you know that Taeyong loves his work, and if he said that something is wrong, something is indeed wrong.

You turned around and hugged him back, giving him one big bear hug, “I’m not mad anymore. But, I have to go now I’ll be late-“ to your surprise he kneels in front of you completely pissed off because of your toes. “I think you should skip practice today - I can’t believe I let you go home alone last night with those feet” it’s not nice to see Taeyong so annoyed and pissed early in the morning. But you know you can’t skip practice today, “I’ll go home early if you can make it up to me today” it’s the only reasonable deal you could make, and you can only hope he’s up for it. “Will do” he kissed your lips, “I love you. I’m sorry, this will never happen again” you believe him.

And he did make it up to you. He made lunch and got an early out from working with his music. Not only did he cooked for the both of you but he cleaned the whole apartment which you thought wasn’t necessary. He made kimchi stew and kimchi fried rice, with a table full of laughter brought to you by your boyfriend and a bottle of wine from Johnny.

After eating lunch and cleaning up, you and Taeyong found yourselves in the middle of the bed tipsy and incredibly clingy with each other. “Wow you changed the bed sheets” you noticed and gave him a wink, “very gentleman of you” he giggled as he lay beside you.

The weather is gloomy like yesterday, but what happened yesterday seems to be erased already. The gloomy weather made the room blue, cold and comfortable. Taeyong’s arms are around you enjoying the warmth you share “I love days like this” he whispers, “You’re my escape from everything that’s happening in my life now. It’s like when you look inside my brain everything seems to be loud and out of order, but there you are calm and just being you” he sniffs your hair, pulled you closer and kissed you deeply as always. “Is this why you changed the sheets?” you playfully asked, he hovers on top of you slowly removing your shirt and tugging down your pyjama “Mhmm”

The cold weather and the low temperature of the air condition made you shiver both. Skin to skin, lips to lips and hands all over each other’s body. Taeyong is never rough with you when it comes to sex, it’s always passionate sex with him. But as gentle as he is during sex, he can’t get enough of you and one round isn’t enough for him. Sometimes you can only cry whenever he ask for you to cum one last time… after having seven already.

“How many rounds can you give me tonight?” Taeyong asks in between open mouth kisses, you noticed he’s hungrier than usual. Then you remembered, you haven’t had sex for the last three weeks for sure he’ll never go easy on you. You clear your throat before answering his question, “Five?” he scoffed. “How about ten? Five in my fingers and mouth and five more with my cock inside you and vibrator on your clit, hmm?” he spreads your legs without waiting for your answer, assuming that you’re fine with his plan already. “Hold my hand, squeeze it so I know I’m making you feel good okay?” you nod with a smile, you’re already turning red because of the building heat up on your body.

Holding both of his hands as he goes down to your sex, he licks your cunt slowly from the bottom to your clit. Making you moan softly and your legs quiver, “Tae-“ you sound like you’re out of breath as you chant his name over and over again. Squeezing his hand from time to time whenever he hits a good spot, spreading your legs even wider to make it feel good even more and grinding your hips to his tongue as he licks your cunt with a steady pace. “Ooh - Mmm, right there Taeyong yeah” you moan louder than earlier and you start breathing heavily. Closing your legs a bit and squeezing Taeyong in between your legs, you cum for the first time tonight.

Taeyong didn’t expect you’d cum so fast already “Still okay?” he asks as he crashes his lips on the valley of your breast all the way up to your lips, tasting a bit of yourself. You encircle your arms around him, keeping him closer to your body still weak from your first orgasm. “What, you want me to fuck you already?” he let out a sweet laugh before looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

As he rolls the condom to his cock, you’re quick to spread your legs for him. “Oh so now you’re spreading your legs for me after squeezing me earlier?” the vibrations of his giggle tickles you as he kiss you before lining his cock to your cunt. He didn’t stopped kissing you even when he’s already balls deep inside you.

“Tae let me breath” you asked of him. As you catch your breath for second, he rolled his hips a little which made you moan and roll your head back, “Sorry, I crave for you baby” he apologise with heavy breaths, hips still rolling slowly, cock stretching your cunt.

You encircle your arms around his neck pulling him closer again, “Come on Tae” you lick his lips, “I owe you nine more rounds” his pace changed a little bit faster, “Can I be rough tonight?” he grabbed you waist a little too harsh it surprised you. He gave you hard thrust that hurts so bad but it it feels good at the same time you arched your body and cum for the second time tonight. Taeyong was the first one to come down from his high and licks your nipples while cradling your arched body, watching you breath heavily and smile as you go down from your high. “Fuck Tae, I didn’t know you had it in you” he’s still licking and biting your boobs while waiting for your body to stop shivering like crazy. “Told you I crave for you tonight” and he slaps your ass and flips you on the mattress.

After that night, the following days were sweeter than ever and the sex became rougher, “no more vanilla sex” Taeyong says. Every night, you both look forward to seeing each other after a long day at work and finally releasing stress in bed together. You like to think that having rough sex every time made Taeyong even sweeter to you. Not that he’s not sweeter before, it’s just that now Taeyong is even more sweeter.

Last night when he’s in the middle of choking you while fucking you on the edge of the bed, he told you “You’re so beautiful, never leave me” and that damn made you blush you almost explode.

This morning, he wanted to skip work just to cuddle with you for the rest of the day. Even though he has multiple schedules today, he has studio work, dance practice and salon appointment. “Taeyong we could cuddle when you we get home” he whines and hovers his legs over yours, locking you in an embrace. “Five more minutes then, kiss me please” and you kissed his pout away.

The following night, he gave you a nice massage not just your feet this time, but your whole sore body. “Ugh baby, that feels good! Where did you learn all this” you mumble while you’re on your stomach, eyes closed and enjoying Taeyong’s massaging skills. “This is how they massage us whenever we have sore bodies during our concert tour” he answers, gliding his hands at your back putting a little bit of pressure.

OFF

One night, you came home from ballet practice really exhausted, tired and sore you can’t even move properly. You decided to sleep early and have a long rest but you forgot to tell Taeyong. Deep in your sleep already, you didn’t notice him when he arrived. Although you felt the bed move and you can smell Taeyong’s familiar scent, you didn’t quite catch what hes doing though. A few minutes later you felt a sting on your nipples only to find out that Taeyong is lapping on your boobs, your sleep wear rolled up to your neck.

“Baby - stop please you’re hurting me” Taeyong immediately stopped and rolled down your top, “I’m sorry - what’s wrong?” he came closer to you with a slight panic you.

“Please stop” your tone was a little bit angry but deep inside you’re not, you’re just tired. He didn’t say a word or do something after that.

Sometimes Taeyong can overthink too much. He’s a soft man on the inside so he can get really hurt with only a few words. He overthinks too much that he already thought you’re getting tired with him, that you don’t love him anymore. He wanted to wake you up and talk to you but he’s scared you’ll get mad like earlier.

Scared to have a fight with you or even a small argument, Taeyong always leaves for work just before you wake up. The come back is getting near and he’s been pouring all his time and energy to his schedules.

You: Taeyong, you left again without saying good bye? That’s not normal, are you okay?

All you can do is send him messages before he buries himself in dance practice and also trying to reach out through phone calls but it never last longer than three minutes. It’s been days since he’s not paying attention to you and you’re starting to think that asking for attention is inappropriate at a time like this.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you hugged him as he lay in bed beside you, tired and pissed because their manager is being a bitch during practice earlier. He doesn’t say a word to you. But you wanted to reach out and it seems like you both could need a talk.

“Tae-“ he cuts you off, even before you could even start.

“It’s not fair that you can get some rest whenever you demand it, I cant. I have an early schedule tomorrow. I’m tired, good night” and faces away to you.

That was the answer to all of your questions. He’s tired and you’re his greedy girlfriend who want his attention always. You constantly blame yourself why Taeyong is acting this way to you. Of course it’s a misunderstanding, but nonetheless it still hurts.

The both of you gone cold for a whole month, Taeyong needed to stay at the dorms and you’re left at the apartment alone. It’s not that the relationship was over and he left you alone, but that’s exactly what you feel. You’re lucky if you could get a phone call from Taeyong once a week but all you get is good morning and good night messages. It feels like your relationship with Taeyong became an imaginary relationship, like the one you used to have with Zac Efron during High School Musical.

Suddenly the apartment that you shared with him feels so big for you and you feel so lonely every night. He’s not your Taeyong anymore and this went on for almost three months, you couldn’t believe what’s happening. All you know is they’re promoting two albums back to back and that their schedules are jam-packed. You need to understand and adjust.

You have your own life you can’t stop living your life just because Taeyong is not with you at the moment. Theres an up coming audition for the main part of this year’s season, and you want to focus on perfecting your audition piece and give it your hundred percent. Which is much easier if Taeyong is here supporting you.

Asking for a breakup and moving out from the apartment is something that will not make the situation easier. So you decided to get on with your life for the mean time, and break up with Taeyong after his busy schedules.

After their two come backs which are both successful, Taeyong of coarse came back to your life. Although this time you’re the one preparing for something big now still, he tries to make it up to you. You on the other hand, is tired of being lonely and sad you just miss Taeyong’s touch and presence in your life. The break up plan was long gone the moment Taeyong showed up on the exact date of your auditions. You decided to give it another shot.

He waited for the auditions to finish and brought you a bouquet of flowers, he has dark blue hair now and you almost didn’t recognise him from afar. “Aw, Taeyong you didn’t have to” you hugged him and received the beautiful flowers, “It’s a congratulations and I’m sorry bouquet” he says shyly. You know exactly what he’s talking about. It feels so good to be coming home with him again, the apartment suddenly gain back it’s normal joyous vibe now that Taeyong is home.

Now that everything seems normal again, the bed is not cold anymore. You’re laying in bed between his legs, your back feels comfortable against his chest “I promise to never leave you again like that” you almost teared up because of what he just said but you’re tired of crying already. All you wanted to do now is be close to Taeyong, make up for lost time, and kiss him. So you did, you turned your back and faced him. Gave him a peck, just a peck and went back to your previous comfortable position.

“Really? Just a peck?” he tickled your sides until hes kneeling on the bed and you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, trying to make him stop by catching his hands. “Okay! Fine!” you’re both still giggling, “Few seconds, wait let me catch my breath first” he tickled you again but this time it’s your feet, you scream so loud and laughed so hard your tummy hurts.

The moment Taeyong stopped because he got tired, you came over to him and kissed him passionately. It felt like your first kiss with him, you’re sure fireworks were lit up the sky the moment your lips touched and your tongue swipes on his bottom lip. “Happy?” you whispered. He goes back to kissing you deeply as he answers no, I will never get enough of you. His lips go down to your covered breast from the layers of your shirt and bra, gently kneading them and hesitating to continue what he wants to do.

“What’s wrong?” you noticed somethings bothering him.

“The last time I removed your shirt, you got mad” he smiled awkwardly and stopped what he’s doing. Now you’re on his lap, needy and wet. He can’t do this to you, no, not tonight. You removed your shirt with a swift move and unclasping your bra throwing it somewhere. “Since when are you allowed to be shy around me, Taeyong? I’m yours remember?” you felt him nod and you felt his bright smile in between hungry kisses and removing each other’s clothes.

“Want to ride me tonight?” he slaps your ass while slowly laying you both back in bed and hovers on top of you.

“How many rounds do you want tonight?” you quickly made the switch to answer his question.

“As many you want” that’s new, you thought. He never made you in control before and you don’t know why you’re blushing in front of him right now. He giggles and put your hair away from your face, “What? Why are you blushing?”

You point around at his face and ruffled his hair, “this is not normal. What have you done to my Taeyong?” he tried to tickle your side again but you caught his hand and intertwined it with yours and put them on your lap making him behave.

“I just figured, I never let you do what you want when we have sex. I’m always the one tiring you and shit” he breaths in, and breaths out sharply, “Even in our relationship, I’m always the one making you sad and exhausting you-“ you kiss him before he says something that will make you cry and completely kill the vibe.

“How about we fuck without condoms tonight, hmm? You like that?” you suggest with a devilish grin, confident because you started taking pills.

“Wow- that would really -“ he can’t form his sentence well, “I am, huh - you sure about this? pull out?” you kissed him again made him grab your boobs, “pill” you grabbed his cock without warning and pumped it a few times, he let out a loud groan when he felt his head slowly pushing in your cunt. His rambling from earlier were replaced with loud moans and sharp gasps whenever you roll your hips a little faster.

“It feels like were having sex for the first time again, yeah?” you can only nod, busy from making Taeyong feel good beneath you and using his cock to go off.

The night became warmer for the both of you after sharing the experience of your first time having sex without a condom. Taeyong freaked out when he saw his cum drip from your cunt for the first time and it made him horny just minutes after he came inside you for the first time. “Let’s go another round babe” he asks so sweetly every after round you finish. His stamina always amazes you.

And for the first time after for so many months, you felt that his ‘i love yous’ are true and sincere. It feels like he’s saying it for the first time again.

“I love you and I’m sorry for leaving you”

“I love you, please let me in your life again”

“I love you, you’re the one for me”

“I love you please forgive me”

The next day, a text message woke you up really early. It’s the results of the audition from yesterday and sadly you didn’t get the part you auditioned for. The part you got was decent, but it hurt you knowing that you’re not enough for the part that you’ve wanting do ever since when you’re a little girl.

Your silent cry and muffled sobs woke up Taeyong up with a slight panic. “Fuck - are you hurt? Does anything hurt?” he thought you were crying because of last night. You shook your head and showed him the results.

Taeyong is quick to put you in his arms and comfort you. It’s everything you needed. “I want you to acknowledge your skills, you’ve gone so far and you did it by yourself take credit for that” he runs his delicate fingers through your sex hair from last night. “I’ll be with you all throughout the process. Please stop crying, I hate seeing you cry”

Of course Taeyong took care of you like you’re one of his members. Gave insightful comments every time you show him a video of you from practice. He gave out helpful criticism that made you want to push more and work even harder.

On days that you just need your boyfriend and you’re so tired from dancing, he will always sing for you and make you laugh until you feel better. He even showers with you whenever you’re too sore to even scrub your own body.

“Taeyong,” he hums while massaging your feet from the other side of the bath tub. “Thank you”

“What for?” he asked kissing your feet before taking the other one.

“I just want to thank you. I feel like I haven’t been thanking you enough for everything you’re doing for me” you’ve never felt so shy in front of Taeyong. He crawls in between your legs, giving your lips a quick peck and going back to his comfortable side.

“I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to take care of your sexy ass” he tickled your feet and you let out a soft, “aw” because your muscles ache whenever you move too much. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’ll get your towel” you laugh at how he panics.

OFF

The most awaited ballet season of the year is during Christmas and you’ve been working your ass off during ballet practice. Two months have passed during the preparation and in two weeks time the performance will take place. All you wanted to do is dance and be perfect. You’ve got thinner because of the company diet but somehow you felt weaker so you overthink and practice more.

Not to mention that you and Taeyong were fighting like crazy these past few days because he can’t get a hold of you. He thinks you’re overworking yourself and soon you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t rest sooner or later. It’s not that he’s wrong, actually he’s right in so many things. But he can’t understand the pressure you’re in, your constant want to prove your company director that you have something special and that you’ve improved a lot.

“If you get hurt before the big day, that’s a bigger loss. Everyone from your company is taking a rest on weekends, I know because were on the same field. Baby please listen to me, rest and come to bed with me” Taeyong begs.

“You don’t understand what Im going through Taeyong because you’re perfect! You’re your company’s favorite idol how can you understand what I’m going through” you probably hurt him with all those words but you’re just angry, annoyed and frustrated all at the same time you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I just wanted take care of you, that’s all” and he leaves your studio without another word. You only got mad to yourself even more for being so harsh to Taeyong. Admitting that you’re wrong you weakly removed your shoes and contemplate for some time.

Later that night, you found Taeyong sleeping on the couch without any blanket and you can tell that he’s cold. You walked quietly to your shared room and grabbed the blanket that you two always share. Slowly and gently, you snuggle beside Taeyong on the couch laying comfotable beside him. His arms automatically pulled you in closer to him, you can’t believe the patience this man holds.

“You awake?” you whisper softly, trying to stop your tears from falling.

“I already forgive you” he already knew that you’re going to apologise.

“Then what are you here? Why didn’t you wait for me in bed?”

“Hmm. Well, theres a possibility that you will still sulk - Mmaybe you don’t like to sleep beside me tonight. Didn’t expect for you to come here actually” he softly explains, eyes still closed.

“You’re right I dont like to sleep beside you tonight” he opened his eyes, but you laughed the moment you saw how his face turned from soft to stern. “Oh your duality always amazes me” you boops his nose, “I’m just kidding. Come on lets come to bed-“ you were just about to stand up but he pulled you close again and kept you close.

“Lets sleep here for a change” he boops your nose and kissed you good night.

You woke up with a sore body because the couch wasn’t so comfortable for two people to sleep in for the whole night. It’s 8am already and you only got half an hour to get ready and head to practice.

When you came in late, you got additional three hour practice as your punishment today. Taeyong will surely get mad when you get home. Besides being late today, you also forgot to put on bandaids from the bruises you got from last night and now your feet will surely bleed.

At the end of the day, you’re right Taeyong did got mad because of the extra practice hours. You were so tired you didn’t even spare a word for him and head straight to your shared room to sleep. You didn’t even bother changing clothes and just closed your eyes and drifted.

Thankful that the next day is rest day, you woke up with clean clothes and tended bruises. He came in with a breakfast tray careful not to spill the coffee, “Good morning superstar” he kissed your temple and sat on his side of the bed.

“Before you say anything, I’m sorry” he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, “You were tired last night and all I did was shout at you when it’s my fault in the first place” he kissed it again and you were speechless the whole time, “We will never fight again, I promise”

The most awaited performance was great, Taeyong watched with Doyoung and they both cried seeing you dance on stage. Your heart is filled with emotions and you feel so accomplished because all of your hard work payed off well. The director noticed your big improvements and promised to give you more opportunities on the next season.

After this year’s ballet season, everything went back to normal with Taeyong. No more fights, and more room to talk to each other. More love making and less rough sex. Do new things with Taeyong every month including understanding the world of kpop.

It has been years since you kissed Taeyong for a stupid dare, and you’re still crazy in love with him.

Now you’re sitting on the tub, enjoying the warm water while you wait for Taeyong to come join you. He came into the bathroom with his favorite scented candle already lit making the bathroom smell like apple and vanilla.

He turned off the bathroom lights before joining you, sitting behind you making you in between his long legs. He pulls you to lay on his chest and gently massage your fingers tired from working.

“What do you think about, Jade?” You feel the vibrations from his chest against your back when he answers you, “Not bad. But lets have other options” you hum longer than before, staring at the marble wall of your bathroom while drawing circles on Taeyong’s lap underwater. “Elie Ruby? We could call her Elie instead?” Your new suggestion made him laugh, and you smiled because he sounds so amused.

“Were not naming our baby after my dog. I love her but, my love for our baby is different” this time Taeyong is the one humming, wetting your hair and putting bubbles on top of your head. “How about I ask the boys tomorrow? Besides we don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy” You turned your back to face him with a smile.

“You’re finally going to tell them?” splashing some water out of of excitement.

“Yes. Now go back to your last position, I want you to relax” and so you did, still smiling like a fool you feel Taeyong caressing your tummy underwater humming a song you’re not familiar with. Maybe he wrote a song for the baby. That was fast, you’re only 2 weeks pregnant and Taeyong already has a song.

“Im sorry for not marrying you first” ah marriage, you thought. Since Taeyong is still in his prime for being an idol, you both planned not to get married yet even though you’re dying to say “I do” already.

You felt his hands creep up to your boobs his fingertips feels good against your nipples. “Close your eyes” he whispered and tingles spread across your body in an instant making your lips part and let out an involuntary moan.

Hearing just the sounds of his sweet kisses on your neck slowly travelling on your shoulders. What he’s doing now is indeed relaxing.

Still kissing your body, Taeyong whispers sweet promises that makes your heart at ease. “I will make you happy. Every second of the day” embracing you from behind, admiring how you fit perfectly between his legs. “Just have more patience baby. We will have a happy marriage”

You don’t know how exactly to react with everything he’s doing right now. Taeyong is providing you calm with his presence but making you horny with his hands around your body. When you finally opened your eyes, you turned your back facing him again. Now its your turn to kiss him and show him love.

While kissing him slowly with lust and adoration, you grab his hard cock underwater and stroke it up and down. Closing his eyes shut he pulls away from the kiss to let out a soft airy moan and relaxes his head on the cold marble wall. “Baby” he gulps, “Dont stop” taking this opportunity to kiss his exposed neck, you’re careful not to leave marks. His moans got louder when he said he’s near, and in a matter of seconds you see the tip of his cock underwater let out white fluids. “You’re always making me feel good, do you know that? I was really exhausted from practice today”

After washing up and having a proper bath, Taeyong was the one putting on lotion around your body. Spreading the Shea Butter scented lotion he gave to you and putting some on his body. Not bothering to put on some clothes, Taeyong brings you to your bed and kissed every inch of you. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?” He asked, lips all over your body and his fingers playing with your wet folds.

“Just make me cum then lets sleep. Were both tired from work baby. You need rest. Lots of rest” you heard him say a soft ‘okay’ before you feel his lips against your pussy. And without any warning, he insert a digit while he licks at your pussy from the bottom to your clit slowly. Making you close your legs but his freehand is quick to grab one of your leg and puts it right above his shoulders, giving him a better angle. Licking you in an animalistic pace, you cum on his face your pussy earning a good kiss from him. That made you smile.

When he finally lay beside you, you dried your juices on his face using a tissue from your bedside. “I thought you’re tired. That was good” you said still panting. He hums and you see his eyelids closing already. Yeah he’s tired. You pull up your soft covers making him comfortable hoping he will get a good night sleep.

After closing the lamp light and making yourself comfortable beside Taeyong, he murmurs a sweet “I love you and our angel” before pulling you closer to him and finally sleeping.

“We love you too.”

................................................. Masterlist

So as I’ve mentioned to my notes above, it’s inspire by true events. Yes I’m a dancer, at least I’m used to be. Not ballet though but I have knowledge about it. My ex is a dancer too, and basically we’ve been trying to make it work even though we both have busy schedules everyday. And that’s basically it, we’ve been on and off and off and on just like keshi said in the song, “when we stop, we never stop” idk for me that phrase spoke to me like how you wanted so bad to leave in a relationship but you can’t because you always find excuses to be with each other until eventually someone stops caring.

I’ve been thinking about on posting this though, because my recent Mark fic didn’t get any recognition at all... and its the first time thats happened so I wonder why.

Thank you for reading!

453 notes · View notes

hateswifi · 4 years ago

Text

Twice Fated: Chapter One

Another multi-chapter fic, hahahaha i can’t commit to much. @salty-fang is writing the sugar part! Go checkout my masterlist i’ll be updating both halves there

Twiste Fated: Master List

The Master: Master List

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Marinette has everything she could ever want, her commissions are doing amazing, because of Jagged’s upcoming tour, she’s dating her dream boy, they have a nice apartment near the center of Paris, and best of all Hawkmoth is defeated.

“Hi, my Lady,” Adrien purrs, entering the apartment. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good, just lots of work,” Marinette yawn, putting her pencil down. She stands up and wraps her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Did your dad have you modeling with girls again today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You reek of desperation,” Marinette giggles, walking into the kitchen. “Are you staying for dinner tonight or do you have another meeting?”

“I have a meeting for an upcoming shoot that’s out of the country,” Adrien says, walking down the hall to get changed. “I should be home by eleven.” He says, fixing his collar as he appears from down the hall.

“That’s a long meeting, don’t die of boredom,” Marinette giggles, earning her a chuckle from Adrien.

“Trust me, I won’t die,” Adrien says, kissing her forehead before rushing out of the apartment.

“Umm… goodbye,” Marinette says, the slamming door echoing through the apartment. She was once again left to work in the deafening silence of their apartment. She sighs before going to continue her work. It was an hour or two later when she was disturbed by her ring tone.

“Hello?” Marinette greets, holding her phone between her ear and shoulder as she continues to sew.

“Hello, my little fairy!” Her grandma’s cheerful voice rings through her phone filling her work area.

“Hi, nonna, where are you this week?” Marinette asks, putting her stuff down, deciding now was the perfect time to take a break.

“I’m outside of Italy, I’m heading to see your parents real soon, so I’ll be able to see you as well if your commission doesn’t take too much time up,” Gina says.

“Nonna, I will always make time for you,” Marinette giggles.

“What’re you doing right now?”

“I’m warming up some dinner.”

“Ooh does that mean I get to say hello to my little fairies boyfriend?”

“No, nonna he’s at a meeting right now, I’ll let him know you said hi, ok?”

“Of course, well enjoy your dinner, I just wanted to say hello,” Nonna says.

“Bye love you, Nonna!”

“Bye-bye.” Marinette hangs up and turns on the t.v. to watch whatever’s on. She sighs and eats her food in silence. She gets annoyed and just leaves her food and lays down. She hears Adrien stumble into their room about an hour or two later.

She sits up, “How was the meeting?” she asks with a yawn.

“Ahhh yeah, yeah that was great,” Adrien chuckles, swaying as he enters the room.

“Are you drunk?” Marinette asks, sitting up.

“No… no no I’m just a bit tipsy,” Adrien says, attempting to pull his shirt, but almost fall over in the process.

“Your father saw you like this and you made it back here?” Marinette asks, standing up. She helps him undress. “Go take a shower. I’ll bring you some water, food, and medicine.”

“Thank you, Princesssss you’re so good to me,” Adrien says in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, just go wash yourself,” Marinette sighs. He gets out of the shower fifteen minutes later all dressed. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he says, plopping down on the couch, he runs his temples before running a hand through his still-wet hair.

“This is the third time this week,” Marinette sighs, putting her head on his shoulder.

“I know, I know I’m sorry, it’s just these meetings have been getting to me,” Adrien says, taking a bite from his sandwich.

“It’s only Wednesday, and the only reason you didn’t drink on Sunday was because we had family dinner, are you ok?”

“The meetings have just been long and boring,” Adrien says.

“And the easiest thing is to drink?”

“Makes listening to my father more bearable,” Adrien shrugs. “Well, I’m going to go pass out.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just put this away, night,” Marinette sighs as he disappears into their bedroom. For third time this week alone, she left to clean up after him. She puts the plate and glass away, she picks up his clothes from the bathroom and puts them into their room. She heads back to the living room to turn off the lights but was distracted by a call from Adrien’s phone.

“Umm hello?” Marinette asks, picking up the phone to see who the number was as it wasn’t saved in Adrien’s phone.

“Hi, I just wanted to make sure that Adrien made it home alright,” A feminine voice comes from the line.

“Who is this?” Marinette asks, fully awake now.

“Oh you’re his girlfriend, right?”

“Yes, this is she, who are you?” Marinette asks, pacing around the living room a bit.

“I’m one of the model for an upcoming photoshoot, he was drunk and I wanted to make sure he got home safe,” the voice said.

“Umm ok, well, he’s home safe and is asleep, good night,” Marinette says, hanging up quickly. She knew she should trust Adrien, she trusts him with her life. She couldn’t sleep that much that night, her thoughts kept her up. She trusts him but she doesn’t really trust the other models. She tries to give the models the benefit of the doubt because not everyone has bad intentions. She decides instead of sleeping, because there was no use, to work on her commissions.

Adrien walks into the living room in the early hours of the morning as she was finishing one of the outfits. “Good morning, how’s your hangover?”

“Ah! What are you doing up this early in the morning?” Adrien yawn, rubbing his eyes. He starts brewing a pot of coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep so I’m working on Uncle Jagged’s commissions,” Marinette shrugs, putting her work down. “You got a call last night after you passed out.”

“From who?” Adrien yawns, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“I didn’t catch her name, it was the model from your meeting last night,” Marinette says, standing up to grabbing her own mug.

“Did she say what she wanted?” Adrien mutters, pouring himself a cup.

“No, she was just making sure you got home safe because you were a bit drunk. Oh, by the way, Nonna called last night. She said hi, and she also said she’s going to be in Paris next week so we’re going to have dinner with her,” Marinette says, pouring her own cup of coffee.

It was another week and another couple nights of Adrien coming home drunk. She hated how much he drank, she’s tried to help him but he’s never listened.

“Adrien, just remember we’re going to my parent’s house because my Nonna is in Paris,” Marinette says, putting on her clothes, she has a meeting about a commission in the early afternoon.

“Yeah, of course,” Adrien mutters, getting dressed for work. A couple of minutes after Adrien left, she throws up the little she had eaten for breakfast. She had been feeling nauseous recently, she chalks it up to stress of commissions and a drunk Adrien before brushing her teeth. She later grabs her sketchbook and swatches of fabric. She sighs, and even though she feels sick, she continues to go on about her day.

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

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @bee-wrecker @damianette-is-life @mjisntme @i-will-be-your-ace @k-poplunardreams @chocolateherringtacofan @toodaloo-kangaroo @i-is-mysterious @zambie-trashart @imnotfluffy @nanakeid @animegirlweeb

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batfam #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #ml salt fic #damian wayne #ml x dc #damimari #adrien salt

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redrobinhoood · 4 years ago

Text

The War Is Over | one-shot

A/N: Alternate ending to Age Of Heroes, can stand on its own.

AO3 Link | 2,200 words (approx)

Summary: What if Palpatine wasn’t the Sith Lord? The happy ending where the whole crew goes to 79′s.

Rex laughed at the hologram in his hand. “I’d hate for you to miss out on the celebration. I know you love the dress greys.”

“Mhm. They really bring out the bags under my eyes. Maybe after the formal dinner we could go get absolutely pissed at Seventy-Nine’s. You, me, Wolffe, Echo, Ahsoka, whoever else wants to join us.”

“Commander Tano is seventeen, Cody. That’s underage.” Though she’d soon be eighteen and drinking age in most systems, Rex still thought of her as the same brash fourteen-year-old he had met on Christophsis when it came to anything but combat.

“Four years older than we are. You can’t protect her forever, Rex. If she can fight in a war and die for the Republic, she can have a drink. Though, with the amount you lot drink, she may swear alcohol off entirely.”

“I’ll make sure Jesse is there if that’s our goal.”

Cody grinned and looked around the medical bay before turning back to Rex conspiratorially. “Do you really think we’re going to win?”

“General Skywalker thinks so. Why not?” Rex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Count Dooku is dead, General Grievous is dead, you’ve captured Maul. We may have just won the Clone Wars.”

“Isn’t that something.” A new message chirped on Cody’s comm, and he stopped to glance at it. “I’m needed on the bridge, Rex.”

“Well, duty calls.”

“I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

“See you on the other side of the war. Take care of yourself, Cody.”

---

The war was over.

Ahsoka stood before the mirror in her room, running the strand of beads that had served as her padawan braid between her fingers before setting it off to the side and returning her focus to her reflection. She was a Jedi, vanity had no place in her mind, but she couldn’t help but admire the ornate patterns lining her new white robes. Barriss had chosen the design with her, and Master Ti had helped the young women incorporate it in a traditional togrutan manner. Master Windu had, of all beings, been the one to help them sew the fabric on in straight lines.

The war was over.

Rex tugged on the collar of the new service dress whites. He hated the constrictions the fabric imposed on him.

“You’ll break the clasp if you keep doing that.” Cody, always the older brother figure, leaned over and straightened Rex’s collar before moving to straighten the colored shoulder pads they had been given. Rex let Cody have his moment. He had bounced back from his injuries, cleaned himself up, then spent the past week overseeing Darth Maul’s interrogation. He deserved to do what he wanted for a bit. Or at least, that was how Rex justified it. Cody still did outrank him, as evidenced by the extra ribbons and decor his uniform bore.

“Maybe I wanted to break the clasp.” Rex whispered as Cody straightened back up in his seat. “Get out of this awful dinner.”

“Now, now, Rex. Play along for the senators. This is their moment after all.” Wolffe chided from Cody’s other side.

The war was over.

---

Ahsoka met the group of clones outside of the Senate, bounding over as soon as they were in sight. “Notice anything different?” She asked, twirling around.

“You have a back to your shirt?” Fives offered.

“No, no. She fixed the holes in her leggings.” Tup corrected.

“You changed your hair.” Echo said.

Ahsoka laughed and turned to Rex. “Any other observations?”

“No, I believe they covered it.” Rex smirked and lay an arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders. “Congratulations, Jedi Knight Tano.”

“Will all due respect, Commander Cody, does this mean that she officially outrank you?” Jesse asked.

“No. No I’m still taller.” Cody glanced over at Kix. “That’s how it works right?”

“Absolutely.” Kix confirmed. “Until the tips of her montrals pass your height next week, you’re in charge.”

Rex made a sound of indignation. “You’re saying that like she’s going to grow up.”

“Rex, I went with you to the Citadel, I’ve faced off against Sith lords and you’re worried about me growing up?” Ahsoka hoped that the men wouldn’t notice how her eyes were getting misty.

“Of course I am, kid. You’re only, what, fourteen?” He teased.

“Absolutely, Rex. I’m the youngest Jedi Knight in the history of the Order.” She squinted up her eyes and nose and shook her head at him.

“That’s cause for celebration then!” Cody threw an arm around Wolffe and Echo and leaned slightly forward towards her. “As your commanding officer until this time next week when your montrals surpass me, would you like to join us at Seventy-Nine’s?”

“Cody!” Wolffe protested.

“General Plo doesn’t need to know.” Cody assured him. “Are you in, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka glanced around at the men surrounding her. Rex and Wolffe were wearing looks of indignation. Jesse looked surprised. The Domino Twins and their adopted triplet were biting back laughter. Kix seemed unphased. Cody looked steady in his proposition.

“I’m in.”

Obi-Wan was going to be so mad when he found out about this.

---

The eight clones and one togruta crammed onto the two benches around the corner table. Ahsoka found herself squished between Wolffe and Echo. The situation would have been uncomfortable in armor, but without it was not unlike crowding into a gunship during an evacuation. Not the most convenient spot to find yourself in, but still very enjoyable at the heart of it.

“Fives and Kix are taking orders, what do you want, General Tano?” Echo asked, tossing his head towards the men, who were sitting at the ends of each bench.

Ahsoka bit her lip. “I don’t know, I don’t know what they have.”

Fives pointed a finger in her direction. “I got you.”

Ahsoka tried to commit everyone’s orders to memory as she looked around at the interior of the club. She wanted to connect the drink’s appearances to their names when Fives returned. She listened to the conversations around her as she continued to sweep the room. Wolffe on her left was talking to Cody, who was sitting directly across from him and was just as squished into the wall as he was. Beside Cody was Rex, who was politely listening to Echo’s recount of the Citadel to Jesse and Tup, who had brought it up in the first place.

“I did not trip when we unfroze, your liar.” Fives insisted as he and Kix returned with two trays of drinks.

“Oh yes, you did.” Ahsoka grinned. “I saw you when Master Kenobi and Master Skywalker were arguing.”

“I should have gotten you a soda.” Fives scoffed, passing her a drink.

She took it and looked suspiciously at the brown liquid. “What is this?”

Fives shrugged and sat back down next to Tup. “A drink.”

Ahsoka took a small sip, then a larger one. “Just whiskey?

Rex nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“What, you think I’ve never had a drink before?”

“Actually, yes. Where have you had whiskey before? Not from General Skywalker.”

“No, not from Anakin.” She agreed and glanced over towards Cody.

“Cody.” Rex turned as much as he could on the crammed bench to berate his brother while Ahsoka turned her gaze over to the men on her right. Echo raised his glass and nodded at her. She caught a glimpse of Tup’s wide eyes behind him, though her attention was quickly drawn back across the table to Kix biting his hand to muffle his laughter from Rex. Ahsoka could feel Wolffe’s arm shaking from similarly repressed laughter as Cody tried to defend himself from Rex’s accusations.

Eventually, Cody was vindicated and Jesse and Tup brought another round. Ahsoka accepted the fruity drink Tup had chosen for her as her last one and stuck with it for subsequent rounds. Kix’s mid-drink lecture on clone and togruta metabolism solidified her stance, along with Wolffe’s attempt to parent her in the generals’ absence.

In the end, she found herself stumbling out of Seventy-Nine’s with Jesse draped half over her shoulders and half over Kix’s. Once they were in a less populated stretch of road Rex came up to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her up, taking some of Jesse’s weight off her.

“Ahsoka. I don’t know what comes next, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you, kid.” Rex smiled down at her.

She beamed back up at him. “That means a lot to me, Rex. It’s been an honor to serve with you.”

“It’s a pity you only served in the third best legion in the GAR.” Cody shouted from behind them. “Your battalion is the reason General Kenobi is going grey.”

“At least I’ve never threatened to tie General Skywalker’s lightsaber to his wrist.” Rex shot back.

“Only because you have the astromech to retrieve it.”

“Look.” Echo cut in. “You can diss the general all you want, but leave Artoo out of it.”

“Even Wolffe likes Artoo-detoo.” Fives nodded his head in agreement.

“I said I can tolerate it.” Wolffe responded.

“Him, Commander. Artoo has masculine programming.” Tup spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s what really brings us all together.” Kix agreed.

Ahsoka couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from her lips. Maybe being a little tipsy, she wouldn’t dare say she was drunk, had something to do with it. Maybe it was just the stress of the past three years being lifted off her shoulders. They’d all made it. The Separatists had surrendered and with their surrender Chancellor Palpatine had stepped down and opened the floor in search for his successor. Supposedly, he was going to retire by the lakes of Naboo. She wondered if he and Padme were to one day be neighbors.

They managed to get back to the barracks in one piece and Ahsoka soon found herself in Rex’s room along with Cody and Wolffe and a large pitcher of water.

“No hangovers.” Wolffe emphasized as he poured Ahsoka a generous cup of water.

“And that’s the reason why the five-oh-first is only the third best legion.” Cody said as he tapped his glass against Ahsoka’s. “You’d have a shot at perhaps being number two if you weren’t so dehydrated.”

“With you as the number one?” Rex scoffed.

“Oh no, the three hundred twenty-seventh corps.” Cody shook his head at Rex. “Gotta support my batchmates.”

“And who is the second?” Ahsoka asked. She had never seen these men this calm before. Some of it was the alcohol, but most of it was the weight of the war lifting from their shoulders.

“Forty-first corps, of course.” Wolffe answered.

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to Barriss.” She laughed.

“So, where do you two lie on this scale?” Rex asked, sitting down and propping his feet up on his bed.

“We’re too good to be measured by a single-factor scale such as this one.” Wolffe waved his hand dismissively. “It’s like if you were trying to pick your favorite ARC trooper.”

“It’s Echo.” Ahsoka cut in. “Fives and Jesse have their moments, but it’s usually Echo. Deny it.”

Rex shook his head. “I am to be an impartial captain over all of my men.”

“That means yes.” Cody smirked.

A comm chirped, and the four beings scrambled for their comms. It was Cody who had the pleasure of the summons.

“Obi-Wan.” Cody casually answered.

“Cody.” Obi-Wan’s crisp voice came through the comm. “I don’t suppose you’ve kidnapped Ahsoka, have you?”

"Rex and I took her down to Dex’s this evening. Is there a problem with that?”

“That depends on what state she’s in when Anakin arrives at the barracks in five minutes.”

“Ah, thank you, sir.” Cody turned the comm off and topped up Ahsoka’s water glass. “With all due respect, Ahsoka, do you own any makeup? Your tails are flushed.”

Ahsoka sighed. “No, I don’t.”

Wolffe gulped down the rest of his water and set the glass on Rex’s desk. “It’s been a wonderful evening, but I’d rather not dirty my reputation with the likes of you when General Skywalker arrives.”

“Oh, get out.” Rex laughed as Cody gave his batchmate a shove out the door.

“So, who’s taking the fall for this one?” Ahsoka asked.

“I believe that the great Marshall Commander Cody should, considering that it was his plan.” Rex said.

“I agree, especially since he’s still in charge, right, Rex?”

“That’s right.”

“You two are horrible.” Cody laughed.

When Anakin Skywalker arrived in the barracks, it was to find his and Obi-Wan’s right hand men and his former padawan asleep on the common room couches. And if he saw the flush of their cheeks, or lekku, if he saw the way their eyelids twitched when he walked closer, and if he saw the slight shaking of Ahsoka’s chest as he walked away, he never told them. He thought it better to let them get away with a few things here and there rather than train three good liars. With a smirk, Anakin lowered himself onto the fourth couch and let himself fall into sleep amongst his friends.

#ahsoka tano #captain rex #commander cody #commander wolffe #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone trooper tup #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper kix #my fics #age of heroes fic #oneshot

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meow-bebe · 4 years ago

Text

October Blues

Pairing: Johnny Suh x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, kind of college au (not explicitly mentioned but its what i was thinking of while writing)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tonight’s Soundtrack: Pumpkin - The Regrettes

A/n: my first finished halloween request! for anon, “hi cosmo 😊 may i request 63 with johnny? agsjfhsklfjs he /is/ the tallest after all😭”. sorry this got a bit angsty at the end, i just have too much unrequited love ideas bouncing around in side my head. also, my nerdiness popped out so I apologise if you don't like doctor who. i know this probably wasnt what you were thinking of but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Oh, the joy of unexpected costume parties. Putting together a good costume could be a painstaking process for those that want to do it right, and apparently that process was not something that Mark Lee understood. Not that this was a spectacular revelation or anything, considering how last year he had shown up to his own party in an old red t-shirt with a bunch of lines sharpied on to vaguely resemble Spiderman’s suit. It had even been voted worse than Lucas’ costume, and he had shown up shirtless with what appeared to be an old bath towel chopped up and strung around his neck in a poor attempt at something along the lines of a neck ruff, and had the audacity to call himself a vampire. Not that most people stopped to question it, the sight of his bare chest was enough to make the majority of people who saw him drool. Unfortunately, you were one of the few that were focused enough on the costume contest (and winning it) to be offended by his lack of effort.

Though your costumes were known to be tedious but rewarding projects, often including quite a bit of planning and sewing, they were also known to be hastily finished at about five in the afternoon on October thirty-first. As a result, you had absolutely nothing to wear to Mark’s seemingly impromptu week-before-Halloween party. (Knowing Mark, it was also more than likely that he had forgotten to invite you until the last moment.) Which was an issue, because now you had nothing to wear.

With only one day to prepare, you thought you had done pretty well for yourself. Adorned in an ill-fitting brown trench coat you had managed to convince Johnny to let you borrow, a tie you just happened to have sitting around, and a navy blue collared shirt you may or may not have stolen from your roommate, you had managed to put together a somewhat accurate cosplay of the Doctor. You had been forced to make do with an old pair of converse that were so covered in paint it was barely noticeable that they were red and a regular pair of jeans, but overall you were pretty proud of your hastily put together costume.

Unfortunately, no one else was. Or at least no one knew who the Doctor was. You wouldn’t be surprised, Mark’s parties weren’t exactly known for their nerdy clientele. Which was probably why you didn’t particularly enjoy his Halloween parties. In fact, you had just about no idea why you were here tonight, other than it was Mark Lee and he was notoriously hard to say no to. Plus if absolutely no one got your costume, you could always find Johnny.

Johnny was Mark’s roommate, and definitely the more tolerable of the pair. You loved Mark, but hanging around him could get tiring after a while. Johnny was definitely quite the sociable person, and he could blend into any crowd which worked well for you. He was easy to talk to, and you shared some interests so there was always material for conversation, but he also never expected much out of you. You could sit in silence and be perfectly comfortable.

And, as it seemed no one that you had run into yet shared your love of sci fi, you had made your way outside to try and find Johnny. He wasn’t hard to locate, there was a fire going in the firepit in their pitiful excuse for a front yard, and as you had seen Mark attempting to start some vaguely halloween themed games surrounded by several of his slightly tipsy friends inside, Johnny was probably making sure no one caught themselves on fire.

Just as you predicted, there he was, his large figure easily spotted as you left the house, dodging around a couple of girls hanging out on the porch steps. Johnny was perched on the brick wall that ran down the street separating the sidewalk from the yards, the charred stick he always liked to use to poke things around when he was in charge of the fire next to him. The section of the grass beyond the sidewalk was unusually large, which had always made you wonder why the wall was there at all, as the yard could have just been sloped downwards, but it let them put the firepit out there so you let it slide.

“Hey John,” you greet, sitting down next to him and kicking your legs in front of you. Jaehyun stands in front of the fire to your left, a pair of cat ears perched on his head, and you offer him a small smile before looking back to Johnny.

He looks your outfit over, raising his eyebrows at the red and blue 3D glasses perched on your head. “Who are you dressed as again?”

You roll your eyes. “As I told you when I texted you to borrow the coat, I’m the Doctor. David Tennant’s Doctor, specifically.”

“I knew you were the Doctor,” Jaehyun pipes up. “The glasses add a nice touch.”

“Thank you Jae,” you say, elbowing Johnny. “See? I’m not totally unrecognizable.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a nerd too,” you roll your eyes again, and bump your shoulder against Johnny’s.

“Hey!” Jaehyun protests.

“Oh, don’t deny it.” You smirk before adding, “Nice ears by the way.”

Even in the fading light, you can see that Jaehyun’s ears (the non-cat ears anyway) flamed red, and he stuttered out something about how they were his sister’s and he didn’t have anything else. Seeing that you were still snickering at him, he rolled his eyes. “I’m heading inside. See you later.”

You and Johnny chorus your goodbyes, attention turning back to each other. He wasn’t wearing anything remarkable, which was odd because Mark had made it clear that a costume was required. “What are you supposed to be?” you question.

“I’m the tall dark handsome stranger your parents warned you about.” His eyes crinkle up into a smile as you snort and burst out laughing.

“You’re ridiculous is what you are.”

“It works on most people.”

You elbow him again. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not most people.”

The temperature had begun dropping for the night, and the wind had begun to pick up again. You shiver as the chill starts to seep into your bones, tugging your coat tighter around your body and laying your head on Johnny’s shoulder, hoping to absorb a bit of warmth from him.

Johnny stiffens just the tiniest bit, so little that you don’t even notice. He can’t quite think to realise you might find that reaction a bit odd, not with the way that you have your head laid up against him, and how if you were to lean up just a smidge you could easily press a sweet kiss against his throat. And, oh, how he wishes you would. But he knows that to you, he’s just John. You know him through a mutual friend, and you’ve never hung out with him outside the times you drift to the edge of your friend group, feeling as though they’re too noisy for you.

Maybe it’s just the wistfulness that comes with October nights, the feeling that summer has really truly faded away for the colder months to take their hold, but tonight Johnny can feel those little pricks of pain that loving someone who barely looks in your direction causes a bit more than usual. Sure, maybe he is the one that you’re all cuddled up against, and perhaps his mind is just playing cruel tricks, but he could swear he catches your eyes repeatedly flicking over towards one of the several people crowded on the porch. You had been talking to one of the girls standing there inside earlier, and even though Johnny has always known that he would never be yours, it still hurts to consider you having eyes for someone else.

He had come to terms with his one sided love a while ago, but for some reason tonight everything that he had been trying his best to keep down was hitting a lot harder than usual. Perhaps it was something about Halloween, after all Johnny knew it was your favorite holiday. Yes, that was probably it.

“John?” your voice interrupts his thoughts and he looks down at you, head still resting on his shoulder, wrapped up in his coat. “What’re you thinking about? You spaced out for a second there.”

Johnny huffs out a little laugh, staring across the street to watch the leaves tumble down from his neighbor’s tree, the streetlamp four houses down illuminating them in an eerie but strangely comforting way.

“Oh, nothing….” he says, just a little hint of the longing that filled his heart bleeding through to his words.

@kpopscape

#kpopscape #johnny x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny seo x reader #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny fanfic #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines

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