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mamamittens · 2 years ago

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Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 5)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard & Reader-Insert

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(This feels like the Marco chapter, and I'm not even sorry. Not intended to be shippy btw, but I totally understand if it's read that way)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior, implied threats of physical violence, and intimidation. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Next chapter won't have such a heavy Marco focus I swear lol

Have fun and be safe!

Word Count: 3,325

Absolutely horrifying. That’s about how you’d describe the experience of eating lunch in a completely abandoned kitchen under the watchful eye of The Phoenix. Having been told in no uncertain terms that you would ‘get used to it’, you resigned yourself to a more timid, cautious eye for escape. Certainly nothing risky as it was abundantly clear that you weren’t leaving unless he let you.

Why exactly everyone else seemed to just go with it was also unclear but from the reaction of Fire Fist this seemed… normal?! To just—well—pick someone and keep them in the crew?! Either it was treated as a more amusing but regular way Whitebeard gained ‘children’ or excused under some respect towards your devil fruit. You had never heard of pirates recruiting quite like this. Sure, some hapless civilian will be taken in due to poor circumstances and an inability to take on the pirates themselves, but piracy is quite a dangerous life as is. The last thing any self-respecting crew would want is a hazard on board. A rouge agent ready to see them sink or be killed at the first opportunity.

Not, however, that you thought you were capable of such a feat on your own. A sentiment you suspected was shared with the very crew you were being kept by. Perhaps that explained at least some of the craziness occurring. If you had nothing to fear of any of your actions, why not just take what you want? With total impunity? A bit hedonistic but frankly, the Whitebeard Pirates weren’t known to be saints to begin with. Even though, among Yonkos, they’re one of the more… tolerable pirate crews all around. Red-Hair was more known for partying and raising hell for the fun of it but then there was Big Mom and Kaido.

Fuck yourself sideways if it was Big Mom or Kaido that found you instead.

Though at least it would be less confusing then. Whitebeard’s crew had this thick veneer of ‘family’ about it that they all really believed in and made hating them feel… weird. Complicated, at least, though you still wanted nothing to do with any of them. Big Mom’s crew had some of that ‘family’ vibe about it but more like… a ruthless, constant struggle to impress their ‘mom’. Even at a distance you knew that the inner politics of Big Mom’s crew was rife with struggle.

Here though, it was all a lot more relaxed. You could almost believe they had good intentions. Hell, if you had walked on board of your own volition, it would even be a breath of fresh air. You know. For a pirate crew.

And really, that’s what freaked you out the most.

They were pirates.

A fucking Yonko crew.

And they acted like you weren’t a marine here unwillingly. Like you were just another child of Whitebeard having a bit of a rebellious phase and soon to drop it and go back to being a good kid. And you’ve never met any of them before in your life.

Fucking bizarre.

And the second worst thing is that you’ve finished what was definitely the most delicious meal of your life without even tasting any of it. Too occupied by your thoughts and the amused stare down The Phoenix was treating you to, elbows on the counter with his chin resting in his palm. Eyes partially closed with a soft smile. You couldn’t decide if it was fascination or some form of restrained malice that cut across the short distance.

Whatever it was could join the line in the list of things freaking you the fuck out. And hopefully fuck off in no particular order but you haven’t gotten what you wanted in years, so why start now?

The Phoenix sat up, instantly gaining your attention as he grinned.

“Well, now that you’ve rested and eaten, I think it’s time to see where you’re at, yoi.” You frowned, looking around the empty room.

“Uhm… I guess the kitchen? Or at least one of them?” You mumbled, getting increasingly nervous about what he would do next.

Another little speech about how you’ll totally love it here as a pirate and should just get over your silly hangups? Veiled threats to hunt you for sport if you disagree?

The Phoenix laughed, shaking his head as he stood up, taking your dishes to the closest sink.

“No, blue bird. I’m curious to know how your fighting skills are.” The Phoenix stated and you blanched instinctively.

“Nowhere near good enough to fight you.” You responded quickly, desperately hopeful he didn’t mean that you were going to fight him. While you could take a hit well enough, you weren’t a masochist. And you needed no demonstration that he could kick your ass. The Phoenix grinned with a little too much teeth, tapping your nose fondly.

“Oh, I know that, blue bird. It’s good that you know that too, though. It’s kind of refreshing not dealing with a cocksure marine.” He huffed. “No, you’ll try fighting someone else. Without a devil fruit.” He gently brought you along with him through the ship past several curious crew members, his arm firmly around your shoulder.

You grimaced at the reminder about devil fruits. You could feel quite a few on board, the pull of theirs on yours likely why you slept so long. You’d never been strained like this before, though the ache quickly faded to a more tolerable level compared to when you first boarded the ship. Whether that was your own ability getting stronger or your sense of relative struggle getting screwed with, you weren’t sure. The Phoenix constantly touching you also helped disorient you.

You wished that your previous partners had focused on figuring out how to lessen your devil fruit rather than constantly abusing it to get a power up. Too late now though.

Eventually, The Phoenix led you to a large room with walls of weapons and a training mat in the middle.

“This is where we test out new recruits and occasionally see if a different weapon would be a better fit. What’s your preference, yoi?” You hissed in a grimace.

Unfortunately, your strongest fighting style was hand to hand combat. Understandably not advised after you ate your devil fruit. You’d been working with a bo staff after enlisting but had absolutely no time training with it unless you counted sweeping the barracks.

“Hand to hand, actually.” You shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been trying to use a bo staff but I never got time to train with it beyond not smacking my face.” The Phoenix chuckled, ruffling your hair and pointing to the center of the room.

“Wait there, yoi. I’ll bring someone over to spar you.” Nervous, you removed your shoes and padded over to the middle of the mat. It was a pretty good sparring mat, actually. Enough give to soften a fall but not unstable to walk on. Upon closer inspection you noticed that the weapons displayed were all training weapons. No live steel or sharp edges to be found. Blunt weapons were still quite dangerous, especially if you get too comfortable with their ‘safety’, but it was all part of the learning process.

“Hey.” You jolted, half turning to see a large man standing behind you. Well over twice your size and thicker than any tree you climbed as a child. “What are you doing, marine.”

Oh. So some of the crew was aware of your job. And not strictly approving of your appearance here. It was almost reassuring. While you didn’t want any of the Yonko crew to hate you, the idea of all literal thousands of them instantly liking you made you nauseous. Even the well over a thousand members currently on board having zero issue with you made your bones shudder.

“The Phoenix told me to wait here until he came back with someone to spar with.” You answered honestly with a shrug, fighting to not fidget under the man’s intense glare. He grinned, several teeth missing.

“I’ll spar you. No weapons?” You shook your head, not sure if you should argue against him as you pushed your glasses back up your nose.

You didn’t want to disobey The Phoenix on your first day and set up a pattern of disobedience that he’d need to keep a closer eye on. But the man before you also didn’t look like he was going to take no for an answer.

Luckily, the man has the worst posture you’ve ever seen. He threw a punch down at you, the angle awkward as it was clear he enjoyed winning fights with overwhelming force against opponents closer to his eye level. Truthfully, you don’t have a lot of natural skills going for you. You weren’t born with incredible strength or speed. You bruised like a peach and your body was more or less quite average to adjusting to training. And you certainly wasn’t going to worry about being too tall to enter establishments anytime soon.

So you had to get smart. You knew long ago that you’d never out-punch everyone. Not that you shouldn’t ever try but well… some heights were simply out of your reach.

The man was sloppy. A brute that likely preferred blunt weapons for the satisfaction of breaking bones. He tensed up in all the wrong places—likely to accommodate the massive weapon he usually wielded. Not the worst fighter you’ve seen by far.

But definitely worse at it than you. At least when it came to fighting someone so much smaller than himself—a real issue that tended to crop up on the Grand Line.

Your feet slid into place, knees bending to brace yourself against the brief but overwhelming force. Your hands grasping the man’s arm as you pivoted the angle of descent, using his own weight against him as he flew overhead. Back slamming into the ground with a hard thud that genuinely lifted you off your feet. It was a basic defensive maneuver.

But that didn’t stop you from laughing a little at his surprised expression, your fingertips still resting over his pulse point as it raced. After a moment you let his arm drop.

“Are you alright?” You couldn’t help but ask after a few more moments, the man’s eyes still fixed on you, more or less. “Sorry, I’m not really strong enough to soften the throw for someone your size. Do you need a doctor?”

“Yes, Haymes, do you need a doctor, yoi?” You nearly jumped as The Phoenix spoke up from just behind you, his hand falling onto your shoulder firmly. Haymes, apparently, grew increasingly pale under what must have been a horrifically intense glare. You certainly weren’t checking to see it for yourself.

“N-No, C-Commander Marco!” The man stuttered in fear.

“Then. Get. Up.” The Phoenix hissed. “You know the rules.” He growled over your shoulder.

Rules? Oh. Right. Of course they have rules. Why wouldn’t they have rules?

What the hell were the rules?!

“Y-Yes sir, sorry!” The man scrambled to run away. After a few heartbeats, you turned your head to find that The Phoenix was giving you that mildly unsettling smile again. You… decided not to ask about those ‘rules’.

The Phoenix cleared his throat and tipped his head to the man standing just behind him.

Closer to your own height, thankfully, and a bit of a boxer’s frame. The man gave you a polite smile despite glancing nervously at his commander.

“This is Newt. Newt will spar with you a few times to see where you’re at. Polite rules of engagement.” The Phoenix stated before throwing a side glance at Newt. “I better not have to deal with any broken bones, yoi.”

You gave Newt a reassuring smile, having zero intention of breaking anything. Personally, you hated how it felt to break bones under your own hands. The sensation and vibration in your own body unsettling. Newt gave you a small smile back and nodded.

“Sure thing, Marco.” The Phoenix nodded his satisfaction and walked off the mat, choosing to lean against the wall to watch. You wished he didn’t but knew better than to argue. What would you even say?

‘Uh, The Phoenix, sir, man capable of healing all but the most grievous wounds, would you please stop overseeing a spar with a Yonko pirate? Thanks.’

Newt shuffled into place away from you, his stance much more appropriate and relaxed that Haymes. A little stiff still, but balanced. You guessed he preferred solid blows with his palms in rapid speed. Maybe a few punches to harder areas to knock the air from his opponents. Not much of a leg guy, you already knew he would plant himself and work from there.

Unfortunately for him, you had been described as ‘frustratingly wily and wriggly’. Constantly moving into an optimum position to redirect blows and strike.

You got into position and waited, in absolutely no hurry to make the first move. The waiting often got to people, not used to engaging in a fight with someone who doesn’t want to be there to begin with. Made them tense. Made them nervous. And Newt, despite being a capable fighter, was definitely getting nervous.

He grit his teeth and moved.

You leaned back slightly and forced his arm to follow the natural bend of his elbow to the opposite side of where he intended to hit you, unbalancing him. Your foot sliding out to knock him over onto his side, aided by the gentle hand pushing into his chest.

It was, perhaps, your most sadistic tendency to aim for ending a fight in the first move with as little wasted effort as possible. Without a lot of stamina, you didn’t have the luxury to entertain long fights. And as a marine, your aim was to arrest pirates as fast as possible. Was it a bit emasculating for your opponent? Yes. But it wasn’t exactly about honor, glory, or humoring people that you fought to begin with.

You fought because you had to. Everything else was secondary. You preferred to call it being pragmatic.

Newt blinked up at you in shock before grinning, laughing loudly as he accepted your hand in getting up.

“Eheh~ Wow!” Newt cackled, shaking his head. “Let’s try that again.”

You returned to your waiting stance.

This time, Newt attacked much faster.

He went lower this time, to your other side. Likely assuming that it was weaker.

You answering response was to pivot back and in the same direction that he was coming from, swinging in even lower to sweep his legs out from under him while he was overreaching.

Another straightforward blow.

You went in closer under his arm, turning your back to his chest as your foot hooked around his braced leg and throwing him over your body onto the floor with his own momentum.

The side again but not as low, swinging in wide.

You spun around him just ahead of his own arc and yanked the back of his shirt, sending him tumbling to the floor in shock.

Finally, a high, roundhouse kick to try and catch you off guard.

To be funny, you spun towards and around him twice, catching him on the second turn and spinning him away from you where he collapsed in a dizzy heap.

Newt was full on laughing at this point, sweaty arm covering his face as he panted for breath.

“Y-You’re supposed to try and hit me!” He cried foul. You offered your hand to him again.

“Sorry.” You said, not very sorry at all. “You look like I’d have a better time punching a brick wall.” He accepted it with grace and stood up, waving to The Phoenix on the far wall.

“Good enough, Marco?” Newt asked breathlessly. The Phoenix nodded with a half-smile.

“Yeah, Newt. You did good, now go shower before returning to Haruta.” The Phoenix declared. “I don’t want to hear any complaints about the smell, yoi.”

His eyes returned to you and you grinned nervously.

“Yes, The Phoenix?” His eyes narrowed and he slowly stalked forward, not helping your poor heart in the slightest. He leaned down until his nose was almost touching yours, hand gently bringing your sweaty forehead against his. You felt the fire flicker over your heated skin, tending to the mild aches in a wash of power. His eyes unwavering in their annoyance anyway.

“Marco. Just Marco, blue bird.” He grumbled. “You’re family now, yoi. No titles or epitaphs.”

You grimaced, gently trying to push him away from you. Rejecting, though softly, the whole ‘family’ thing. He didn’t even budge, his eyes the only indication he even noticed. The color turning colder as gold flickered over his lashes. His gaze looked less human and more predatory as he suddenly smirked.

The room exploded in blue fire as you were suddenly shoved down onto the floor. You yelped in fear, feeling talons press onto chest back as a heavy weight settled over you.

A gold beak broke through the terrifyingly beautiful display of living fire, dark blue mask and sapphire eyes narrowed down at you. It didn’t hurt, not even a little, but the pressure was a threat on it’s own. He cocked his head at you, waiting for your response.

You didn’t know why you weren’t as afraid as you really should have been. His talons were no joke. He could easily disembowel you right now and probably heal you back again in seconds just to repeat the process. He even looked mostly amused now, staring down at you with eyes only superficially human.

His beak clacked with mild annoyance that you weren’t playing along already or giving him anything to react to. Not even fear despite the compromising position.

Right.

Phoenix.

He’s on fire, sure, but still a bird. And you’ve never been scared of animals like others are. Even when they’re threatening you.

Somehow, his human form freaked you out more than the literal bird of fire. Which didn’t even burn. The flames licked at you freely with all the softness of a down feather. The heat negligible at best though feeling bizarrely cool. Like the shade on a hot beach.

Hilariously, the idea of calling him Marco now was less horrifying than when he looked like a man. More horrifying was the instinctive desire to coo at how pretty he was. Which was very, very pretty.

You should, under no circumstances, tell the Yonko pirate he’s a pretty birdy. Even if he really, really is.

He isn’t actually a bird. He’s a grown man. Intimidating you into using his actual name. And you’ve been staring for quite some time instead of responding in any particular way like a maniac.

“… For everyone or just you?” You asked faintly, still trying to refrain from cooing at his gorgeous plumage. He blinked in surprise, leaning down further to push your glasses back up with the tip of his beak.

“… Aren’t you scared of me?” He asked, settling down and removing his foot from your chest, merely standing over you. “You’ve been scared of me so far, yoi.”

You chuckled nervously, finally giving into temptation to pet his face.

“You’re a really pretty bird.” You explained, face hot with embarrassment. “Marco.” His feathers ruffled all the way to his tail in pleasure.

You distantly considered it a win he wasn’t insisting on being called some version of ‘brother’. You didn’t care how mesmerizing his plumage was, that was a step too far in your book.

He gave a pleased trill, running his beak through your hair briefly before the fire abruptly cut out. Hands pulled you up against his chest as he hugged you tightly, chin tucked against your hair.

“Now for Oyaji—”

“Absolutely not.” Rather than getting pissed off, Marco seemed to content himself with the ‘progress’ so far. Whispering into your ear.

“We’ll work on it.”

#one piece yandere #platonic yandere #yandere whitebeard crew #yandere marco #marco the pheonix #oh sweet child of mine #reader insert #hopefully this comes across as more unhinged big brother vibes #but birb instincts on top lol #he deserves to be called a pretty bird and i wont apologize for doing it

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do!

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even...

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical.

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire.

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily).

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to.

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one.

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku!

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome.

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it.

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices.

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that.

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand).

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz and @kaitie85386 for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

#meta #my meta #the box #deception arc #rako hardeen #rako hardeen arc #naboo #obi-wan kenobi #count dooku #cad bane #moralo eval #darth sidious

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years ago

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Defy Your Authority: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You’re a Lieutenant, stationed on Orinda. You’re content with your trustworthy crew, but issues with a certain ship (spoiler alert: it’s the TIE silencer) end up trapping you on the Steadfast, instead. Your relationship with Kylo Ren isn't how you left it. How many more messes can you stand to clean?

(Yes, this is the sequel to Fix Your Attitude.)

Words: 4500

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Umm... hi!! I don't have much to say other than I'm very excited to post this, and I really hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much. I'm genuinely lucky and grateful to have you in my life.

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.”

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too.

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him.

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.”

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart.

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic.

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

“An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all.

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground.

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life.

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter?

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter?

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe.

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter.

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.”

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order.

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship.

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike.

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce.

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer.

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even.

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge.

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy?

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.”

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check.

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail.

Engine test: fail.

Engine test: fail, fail, fail.

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?”

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?”

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one.

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?”

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon.

“Yes, sir, thank you--”

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him.

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.”

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling.

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching.

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps.

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships.

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda.

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought.

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment.

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent.

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards.

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention.

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne.

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.”

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival.

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face...

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth.

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore.

You were in love with its Supreme Leader.

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fanfiction problems #fya2 #SLAPS THIS ON TUMBLR AND RUNS AWAY

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orphanedideas · 2 years ago

Text

Idea for Horror Film

Our protagonist is Paul, a young man who has recently moved to a new city where he doesn't know anybody. He’s feeling quit lonely and sad, but he likes to go to the city, sit in coffee shops writing and listening to music. Eventually Paul meets some nice people and they ask if he wants to go see some music. He goes along with them and it turns out they're part of a Pentecostal Christian church. This is not what he had in mind, but he humors them because they seem nice and he doesn’t want to be rude.

As the Pentecostal event ramps up Paul starts to get into it. The music is lively, the people seem happy, the preacher is saying stuff about love and community that makes sense to Paul. When the preacher asks if there’s anyone present who has not given their life to Jesus Paul puts his hand up (along with numerous other people scattered through the crowd). A little later in the service the Preacher does an altar call, inviting people to come up the front and give themselves to the Lord. Paul is feeling a bit too shy, so he doesn’t go up immediately and things start to get weird. There's laying on of hands, people are shaking and falling, speaking in tongues - the usual Pentecostal stuff.

Paul is starting to feel a bit freaked out now. He decides to try and lay low. He can't really sit down without drawing attention to himself, so he's sort of shrinking back. The service keeps going, music is ramping up, the people are dancing, etc. The preacher repeats the altar call several more times. Eventually he says, "I can still feel that someone in this house hasn't given themselves over to the Lord". His eyes search the crowd until finally he spots Paul. The Preacher points directly at Paul and invites him to come up the front. Things go quiet as the crowd waits for him to answer the call. Paul nervously starts to make his way out of his seat into the aisle. In the aisle he takes a step or two toward the front before turning and sprinting out of the building.

From that point in the movie, beginning with his rapid exit of the building, Paul is pursued by Christians. They seem manic and totally unconcerned for their own safety, but otherwise still human. They claim to want to bring him to the Lord, though whether as a convert or a ritual sacrifice isn’t clear. At no point in the movie do any of the Christians try to hurt him or do anything worse than restrain him. We don't see them consciously choose to hurt anyone else either (though they may accidentally endanger other people, for example by disrupting traffic). Paul, on the other hand, is not afraid to resort to violence in order to escape the Christians. They are scaring the shit out of him. At times they resemble a smiling zombie horde.

There could be a scene where Paul tries to get help from the police. They sound skeptical at first, but ultimately he persuades them to drive him to safety. Once they’ve put him in their car they take him back to the Christians instead. Paul manages to escape the police car, but ultimately the Christians catch him and drag him back to the building where the service is being held.

The last shot of the movie is Paul being carried inside the hall. Swallowed up by the light pouring from the building. His cries of protest drowned out by Christian music.

#idea for a horror film #horror #horror film #christianity #pentecostal #god #cult #cult film #orphaned ideas #living sacrifice #zombie #zombies #zombie film #night of the living dead

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

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hi different anon here! but what if spencer had to take a mandatory arts class of some kind for his degree (i don’t know how caltech or phd courses work but we’re going to ignore that) and he’s getting super frustrated because he’s so good at all of his other academic classes but he just! can’t! figure! out! the arts!!! but then reader is in the same class as him and notices that he’s struggling so they offer to help him out?

it’s kind of a role reversal of the usual spencer-tutors-reader in college (because he’s a genius so it’s an obvious [and very good!] dynamic)

and bonus points if it’s a pottery class and they have a “ghost” moment 🙈🙈 (reader is obv patrick swayze 🤤) but make it any medium you want! or even a music class!! up to you my dear <3

ok for some reason i immedaitely thought of finger painting but. have decided against that

idk how art classes work either but if it’s anything like art was in school then you’re kind of left to you own devices? so let’s go with that. it’s fiction babey!

this was meant to be headcanons/random concepts but turned in a messy blurb so it’s under read more

he loves art and isn’t so bummed out that he has to take the class because - again - he likes it But the issue is he likes Looking at it, Not creating it. he’s got jiggly hands that squirm and twitch without his consent constantly and that doesn’t bode well for drawing fine details and intricate patterns, so he’s hoping because it’s an introductory course it’ll be. maybe more theory than anything else? or at least just basic tools and mediums so he can struggle through with a grimace from the professor

he ends up with /oil/ paints though and he’s looking from the bowl of fruit to his easel to thr OIL PAINTS and derek is there, in spirit, going hahahaha good luck pretty boy! and spencer Could ask to change the type of paint he’s using but he’s awkward and so. grits his teeth and goes. alrighty this is it this is life im using oil paints, something notoriously difficult for a beginner, which is what i am, a beginner, and i am now putting these expensive paints to this expensive easel with my inexperienced hands-

and you’ve been watching him since he stepped in, because he’s pretty, and now you’re grimacing cause Oh Boy he does not know what he’s doing and he’s. he’s breaking the paintbrushes. you can hear the bristles cracking from across the room.

spencer would’ve noticed you if he wasn’t so Humiliated (he, too, easily notices pretty people) so when you creep up behind him and say, “oil paints are difficult, aren’t they?” in this understanding voice that he follows with his head, his first thought is- oh, so to top it all off a piece of art has come to life? this is where we are now?

he does that thing where he forces out a little breath along with a small smile and goes, “ah, yeah. i didn’t want to ask for something else, so,” and weakly lifts the palette in his hand as if to say, it is what it is.

“i could help, if you’d like?”

and he agrees cause he’s eager to learn! and you, a masterful artistic genius, blow him away with not only your knowledge (you’re into the theory kind of stuff too and at one point he jolts himself, realises he was staring at you with his mouth open, and deeeeep down wishes someone would think of him the way he thinks of you when you ramble) but your actual skills too! and you’re a great teacher! patient, understanding, and did he say patient? because he has painted a damn sky at least 15 times and every time he Somehow makes clouds look phallic and you just go hehe :) and he’s like I love u (internally)

several weeks in, when you and spencer have become arty friends, the subject turns to drawing people rather than objects - you tell him getting people /right/ is something you struggle with yet you love doodling your friends and family in your sketchbook. the first body spencer draws (that isn’t a stick man) is done in crayons, which he’s found is the medium that works best for him (only when the crayon is properly wrapped. because the waxy feel of them Freaks him out)

you help him learn about drawing anatomy while he tells you /about/ anatomy, he attempts to sketch a hand and it’s so odd looking he laughs so hard he CRIES and you finally convince him to try charcoal, your personal favourite

it’s messy and gets everywhere (spencer opens his mouth to complain about his expensive grey cardigan but then- the little mark is a physical representation of this memory between you and him, huddled close together as you both draw aimlessly in your sketchbook, and the mark feels more like a blessing) but spencer ends up agreeing that charcoal sketches look the best.

then he sees something he shouldn’t have.

you’re talking about how you sketch your family all the time - there’s several of your roommates and your pets and a sheep u saw this one time - then there’s...someone oddly familiar? that he catches a glimpse of? and before he can think he goes “wait-“ opens that page and it’s him. him, standing too close to an easel with his tongue slightly poking out in concentration and it’s a charcoal sketch of him from last week.

you’re embarrassed. “that’s weird, im sorry-“

“you make me look good” he tells you, smiling sweetly, and you’re convinced it’s just to comfort you but you’re too glad he isn’t filing a restraining order you let it slide

i mean. have you seen his face? how can anyone look at that and not want to start chiselling marble?

then he gets secretive, weird, a little odd and definitely is avoiding you. he paints and draws with his back to you, still talks to you but over his shoulder and can never really look you in the eyes. you think this is it and that the sweetheart you’ve come to see as more than a friend is Done with you, because you’re a CREEP, and then after a weekend of silence on his end this happens:

while you’re getting your stuff ready, he walks up silently and slides a small sketchbook in front of you. you stare at it, wondering what it’s for, and he nods at it and tells you to open it. when you go to, he stops you-

“a-actually, let me give you a page to start on-“

when he manhandles the book his hands brush yours, his already bright red cheeks get redder, and you bite your tongue so you don’t sigh dreamily.

he’s drawn you.

it’s not perfect and kind of not pretty - a lot of harsh edges and weird shading - but you can tell its you. it’s you, drawn by him, probably from memory, and he’s drawn little hearts around your head because he’s the cutest? evidently?

“it’s really bad, but i thought-“ you look directly at him, making him freeze. he’s got a little charcoal just under his eye. unabashedly, you reach up and wipe it away, hand remaining at the side of his face when you’re done. “i thought you deserve to feel how i felt when you drew me.”

“and how did you feel?”

he gulps. “loved.”

all you can do in the Classroom you’re in is beam sickeningly sweet at one another, lost in your own world while there’s a wordless exchange. the rest of the sketchbook is full of half attempts at sketching you - in different positions, with different expressions, some with a full head while others are half a face. some of them are hilarious, but they’re all made with the purest intentions. “i love it.”

and when you share a look then, you don’t need to verbally say what comes next just yet.

(and. yes. the second you see a pottery class is available you drag him and Make him sit between your legs and he’s never blushed so much in his life the teacher asks if he needs air. at one point you think it’d be funny to peck his neck and the shiver it sends through him is so shocking your mould on the wheel is squished between his hands)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #ask #long post #this was supposed to be short #and turned into this shit thing #that's why it feels rushed (more rushed than usual)

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shadowfae · 4 years ago

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We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea.

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers.

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

#luteia laments #otherkin #fictionkin #alth #alterhuman #asks #anonymous #long post //#discussions #on community history #on politics #on public relations #commentors feel free to add your own thoughts!#Anonymous

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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

Note

Here’s a prompt from the tag! “ Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.” bc I have a feeling Remis would be the type to end up eating Sirius’ dessert instead of his bc he doesn’t know what to order but Sirius knows his taste dkfjsjaha

~Notes: Oh no baby! I read this wrong, thinking it was Person A ordering for them instead because Person B didn’t know what they wanted.... And well this came out-- I can totally write a different prompt though to match this one! Just LMK! <3 <3

Send Me A Prompt | Reblogs are like the tastiest dessert!!

Remus pads softly into his and Sirius’s room, a mug of steaming Darjeeling in hand and clad only in a his robe as he gazes longingly at the sleeping form of his partner for nearing on three years now.

The early morning sun pans across the wide expanse of Sirius’s shoulders, and dips into the planes and valleys of his muscular torso and angular face. Lying there, with his dark hair fanning the pillow and the blanket slung lazily around his hips, he looks like some sort of fallen angel. Beautiful and remote and impossible to touch by sullied hands that aren’t half as sacred. It makes his heart thud an uneven staccato when he remembers that he’s his— Sirius chose Remus, Sirius loves Remus— Maybe even nearly as much as Remus has always loved him.

How remarkable of a revelation indeed.

Gingerly, Remus sets down his tea and crawls back into bed with Sirius, insides thrilling when the dark haired boy subconsciously snakes his arms around him and curves around Remus’s body like so many times before, so often that Remus reckons it’s become by rote, an ingrained response to whenever they’re in close proximity to one another.

With a quiet laugh, Remus stretches around, begins peppering Sirius’s chest and abs and the space surrounding his cock with tender kisses, slowly rousing him to wakening the way Sirius always appreciates after a night of patrols for the Auror’s academy. And as usual, it doesn’t take long at all for Sirius to begin moaning out appreciative sighs, thrusting languorously for the warmth of his mouth, making Remus chuckle as he tugs down his pants, and kisses the length of him, peering up to watch as Sirius’s gorgeous, gray eyes flutter open.

“Wh— Moony?” He says in a peculiarly squeaky voice that Remus can’t ever remember slipping out of his mouth.

“Yes— Problem, Paddy?”

Another discontent, borderline terrified noise rumbles in his throat, and before Remus could even ask what’s got his boyfriend acting like he’s touched in the head, the door to their flat flings open none too gently, and it’s an irate looking James who storms into the bedroom— fists clenched and jaw set as he glares daggers into the face of his practical brother.

“You’re dead Potter!” Is all he shouts before madness ensues— Madness that’s James’s flying fists for Sirius’s face, Peter’s choked laughter flowing in from the other room, and a Lily who looks stuck between horrified and amused

And Remus is so fucking bewildered as he slides off of his boyfriend to avoid any untoward hits accidentally aimed his way.

“Lily?” he presses expectantly, but is totally unsurprised when all she replies with is a bout of uninhibited cackles.

Fifteen minutes, a magically healed split lip, and a physically restrained pair of animagi later, finds the ragtag group of friends surrounding the kitchen Island while a terse James and enraged Sirius are explaining what had happened the previous night. Namely, them getting hexed by a sour faced old bint with a Guinness in hand, after Sirius had driven his motorbike through her rosebushes.

“You guys got bested by a drunk hag!” Peter guffaws for the third time in a singular minute, clutching at his stomach while his body wracks with a continuous stream of laughter

“I will singe your bollocks off Wormtail,” Sirius seethes from Remus’s left— Except no, it’s not Sirius. It’s James, his best mate James who’s now inhabiting the body of his lover. And God how strange of a fucking turn of events. It’s seriously unnerving. He’s just standing their, all too familiar arms crossed against his chest and thick brows furrowed. And God, Remus really wishes he wouldn’t do that— worry on his bottom lip mid snarl. It’s such a quintessentially Sirius thing to do. a look Remus knows well. One that Remus would always coax away with a gentle kiss and a hand carding through his hair and—

“Oof!”

He glances over to where Sirius— wearing James’s face— is glowering at him with pure irritation after having elbow checked him. “Eyes front and center Lupin!”

Remus flushes, glancing over at Lily since she out of everyone here could understand his plight. But of course she’s only snickering to herself in her cup of coffee, the trader.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just because ’s my body doesn’t mean you get to give another bloke the come hither eyes!” Sirius fumes, a sneer caught on his features that Remus never thought the face of the easy going James Potter could ever conjure. “Crikey, it’s plenty that you decided to give him a full on show already.”

“How was I to know this would happen!” Remus sputters the same time James defends that they even barely started, which of course made Peter fall over on his chair with pure delight and Lily walking over to the kettle so she can hide her own laughter.

“Lucky you,” Sirius snipes back, glaring darkly at James and snatching Remus’s hand to interlock with his— erm James’s?— own on his lap.

Remus is so totally fucked.

Graciously, Professor McGonagall— who told the graduating Gryffindor class of 78 to always reach out if they ever needed help with a strangely wet glint in her eyes— Replies to the pleading missive Remus had sent almost immediately, giving Remus the proper instructions to reverse the jinx and wishing him and Lily the best for the impending tribulations about to befall them.

“She’s totally loving this,” James mumbles moodily as Lily massages his head. And Merlin, is that a strange sight— Lily not only deigning to touch Sirius at all, but look at him sympathetically on top of that. Remus has to constantly remind himself of the body swap before his ridiculous envy begins carving at his insides when James only looks appreciatively back up at her, a gentle, open expression painted over his face that is ordinarily reserved for Remus and Remus alone.

“God this is weird,” Lily tells him, slowly inching away and sitting besides Remus instead. “I usually can’t stand even the sight of Black, and now I’ve got to treat him like the bloke I’m in love with.”

“That’s not what you said this morning Evans,” Sirius goads from Remus’s other end, suddenly reverting back to looking like the James of fifth year— when he was still too cocky for his own good and still didn’t understand how much it made Lily want to hex him to hell for it. “I actually think I recall a lot of back robs and straddling action this morning.”

Lily casts him a look that would absolutely scorch lesser beings, and Remus reasons that his own glower is emulating the same energy because Sirius quickly presses their foreheads together and squeezes Remus’s hand between both of his own in silent repentance. “I knocked her off once i realized it wasn’t you love.”

“Didn’t even bother to aim for the bed you absolute sod.”

“It was fight or flight while you had your grubby little hands all over me Evans!” Sirius airily sniffs.

“Oh I’ll show you grubby little hands!” Lily seethes, pouncing forwards right when Sirius hides behind Remus’s back.

“Children,” Remus intones, beyond over it. “Did you all not realize the massive problem with this little mishap.”

“You mean besides dealing with James’s pitiful little knob.” Sirius asks, faux owlish.

“You touch my knob Black and I swear to God I’ll shave off all your hair.” James snipes, which really isn’t all that fair considering how Sirius doesn’t even care about his perfect locks half as much as Remus does.

“Bloody hell! That’s brilliant!” Peter squawks from the loveseat, absolutely glowing. “James, you think you can get Moony’s name tattooed on his arse.”

James’s face goes sly, Remus’s favorite smirk toying the edges of his lips and his stormy eyes glinting with mirth that Remus only ever sees on his boyfriend’s face before a prank or while Remus is undressing in front of him.

“What did I say about that look Moony!” Sirius shouts, scathing and skewering him with a look James only ever employed as Head Boy on the third year students stupid enough to get caught while trying to pull off a prank.

“Erm— Ahem.” Remus adjusts himself in his seat, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes well, that is rather besides the point.”

“So what is the point, Rem,” Lily asks smugly, and Remus absolutely hates how much she’s enjoying this. She should be suffering just as much as him for the sake of Circe.

“Well didn’t you have that lunch date set up with your older sister and her husband for today?” Remus points out, a mutinous little part of him preening at how her face goes a sickly sort of pale at the reminder. Finally someone is as ill over this as he is.

“Oh bloody shite! You’re right! And Professor McGonagall said that this incantation can only be done at night, the same time as it was originally cast!”

“We’re not in school anymore Evans, you can just call her McGonagall. Or Minnie if you’re so inclined.”

“Shut the fuck up Black!” Lily shrieks, and Remus can’t help but unfavorably liken her to a banshee. “I promised Petunia that I’d see her before she leaves on holiday tomorrow! And she bloody hates Black!”

“nasty harpy.”

“What are we going to do!”

“Erm— Well maybe you can explain to her the switch up?” Peter offers, always meek in the face of Lily’s wrath.

“She already thinks I’m a freak for being a witch Peter! I can’t bring James looking like that and expect her to be fine with it!”

“Most people would consider James having upgraded,” Sirius argues.

“The tattoo will be bright pink I reckon,” James muses loudly to himself, pretending not to have heard Sirius. “A nice contrast to your pasty white arse don’t you think Padfoot?”

Sirius bares his teeth at him and Remus feels an impending migraine while Lily continues to lament the idiocy of their boyfriends.

Remus idly contemplates how normal his life could’ve been if he had fought harder with the sorting hat to be placed into Ravenclaw. It would be a much less wonderful existence, to be sure, but it’d be so blessedly normal. Remus would probably have gone steady with that Hufflepuff prefect, Andre, and they would probably still be together. And Andre didn’t have a best friend who he got into insane and improbable situations with, so Remus definitely wouldn’t have been forced to do this. To be forced to go to lunch with his best friend’s wizard hating sister and her pug faced husband and not look longingly over the table at the face of his other best friend where the love of his life is inhabiting his body.

Jesus, is Remus’s life confusing as fuck.

“I need to take a pis— Oof, I mean. I have to use the gents,” Sirius declares as everyone’s entrees are being served, giving a pointed glance to Remus. And he supposes he should talk to him about that, how incredibly obvious Sirius can be when he’s flustered and isn’t trying to show it.

Five minutes after his boyfriend, Remus leaves to meet him in the first open stall, finally feeling less wrong footed for the first time today when Sirius takes him into his unfamiliar arms.

“I’m going to stab my eyes out with a fork Moony!” He hisses, and it’s odd how alien his face— James’s face— is to him. How Remus has never spent the time to memorize the precise slope of his nose, or the shape to his lips. How Remus can’t understand what it means when he squints his left eye or when he flares his nostrils with a slight curl to his mouth. But Remus does recognize the way Sirius has always grabbed his hips in that desperate way when he’s fed up, and how he always presses his nose to the curls behind Remus’s ear when he needs to be grounded. And it’s a bit awkward now that they’re the same height instead of Sirius needing to stoop slightly, and how Sirius now smells like that pricy cologne that James has always sprits with gusto. But it’s familiar enough to make Remus’s shoulders relax from the tension sown through them all day, and breathe out with relief with how the pair of them still understand one another with an innate sort of knowing.

Gingerly, Remus wraps his arms around Sirius’s now less defined torso, and they stand their, tangled into one another amidst the hush settling over them.

“Oi! You berks!” James hisses from the doorway all too soon, clambering inside and stomping his feet. “I swear to Merlin if you pricks are fucking inside there!”

“Don’t worry Jamie, I’d never put my Moons through the indignity of dealing with that after he’s had me,” Sirius jeers, preening when James replies by throwing something hard against the doorway.

“C’mon you idiot,” Remus sighs, tugging on a lowly chuckling Sirius as they meet James by the exit of the loo.

“I’ve had three different birds sliding their numbers into my trousers on my way here alone,” James complains, shuffling foot to foot and looking more awkward than Sirius ever has. “It’s obscene.”

“It’s the life of the beautiful,” Sirius corrects as Remus swaths his hand away from his arse.

“I’d rather not have Petunia getting a heart attack when she sees her sister’s boyfriend copping a feel of another bloke,” he chides before looping his arm through James’s and begins strolling back to the table.

The rest of the lunch is thankfully uneventful, but as stilted as expected, filled with Sirius needing to be kicked in the shin every time he starts gazing absentmindedly at Remus, and Lily flickering her eyes over to James disappointedly while he pouts at her with Sirius’s best puppy dog eyes. And Every time Petunia starts eyeing them all as if they’re all fucking each other behind the scenes, Remus clumsily changes the topic to the weather or how lovely her engagement ring is or asking Vernon about bloody drills— Even if all he wants to do is reach across the table and hold Sirius’s hand.

But thankfully, it all seems to be going along decently enough— That is until the waiter comes around to take their orders and spends a little too long leering at Remus, asking if he’d like a cinnamon roll on the house.

“He’d like a slice of the chocolate fudge cake and he has a boyfriend that probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra service.” Sirius growls out, specs gone askew and dark knuckles paling from where he’s clutching his spoon vindictively.

The waiter only smiles at him, shrugging in that what can you do kind of way before dashing off to place the orders in with the kitchen.

“Hmm,” Petunia levels him with a glance, unimpressed looking. “So James.”

It takes a beat too long for Sirius to respond and Remus silently curses his every damn star.

“Erm, yes Petunia.”

“How long have you been fucking my sister’s friend behind her back?”

Lily goes shellshocked and James looks ill while Remus sinks lower in his seat, trying to force Sirius to get it together through his eye contact alone.

“Hah— Wow, you’ve been watching those silly Muggle dramas have you Petunia.” Sirius says in a mangled tone of voice, but of course that’s the precise wrong thing to have said.

With matching red faces and spluttering words of indignation— a few curses thrown in for good measure— Petunia and her husband rise from their seats and make a hasty retreat to their car towards the back of the building.

“Oh Christ,” Lily groans, jumping up to sprint after them— but not without swinging a perfectly aimed cuff to the back of Sirius’s porcupine head. “I’ll hex you once you’re out of my boyfriend’s sodding body Black!”

“I understand Evans!” He calls after her before swinging his head over to James and Remus with a mischievous grin. “We tried didn’t we?”

“You just couldn’t keep your bloody jealous temper in check,” James scolds with no real heat.

“Oi! And what about you lusting over Lily so blatantly you tosser! It was revolting.”

“Yeah, well maybe you’ll remember that next time you’re gazing at Moony’s arse out in public you mongrel.”

Exhausted, Remus just rises and tells them to stay behind and make sure Lily’s alright. “I need a bath and some quiet.”

“Can I join,” Sirius pouts. “I miss you.”

“Only once you’re my Sirius again,” Remus instructs, brooking no arguments before he finds a safe place to apparate, telling himself that he deserves an entire bottle of that cheap merlot they bought last weekend.

#REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink #I feel bad I didn't post a Remus Bday FIC tho #rip #sorry angel child o'mine

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brynfelan · 4 years ago

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ALDJSHSKS OH THANK GOD I WASN'T WORRIED BUT I WAS A LIL WORRIED...alright imma start off with a Kuzuhina(ish) idea, because rarepair hell sucks let's suffer together. Hajine gets kidnapped by a psycho group NOT because of his relationship to Fuyuhiko, but because they "wanna see what makes the Ultimate Ultimate tick." Which is infinitely worse because the human experimentation is back on for our tsundere ahoge boy. He got lobotomized and now he's back in that particular hell. Izuru's also suffering because he's grown to care for Hajime in his own way, because they're two separate minds in one body, and he can't protect Hajime from this. Fuyuhiko is basically going postal because "MY BOYFRIEND WAS KIDNAPPED BY LUNATICS, WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT, AND NO ONE'S DOING ANYTHING WHAT THE FUCK." The rest of the Remnants are also pissed and worried, but Fuyuhiko moreso. Your thoughts???

like one day he’s just gone ?? no note? just poof?

holy hell i have this image of fuyuhiko absolutely TEARING UP the 100km area around them just looking. ofc the other remnants are pissed too but nobody has ever seen fuyuhiko just go off like this. eventually he realises he can’t find him by just searching aimlessly so soda builds some walkie talkies STAT (or they get to ask future foundation for help? i haven’t decided which is better), but point is all of the remnants absolutely descend on the surrounding area, with their own sections to search. the communicators have lil GPS things on em so they always know where the other is.

it’s gotta be fuyuhiko that finds him though, right? because like... angst. anyway, fuyuhiko finds this old underground bunker, and can’t open it by himself so he calls everybody over. akane, gundham and nekomaru manage to get it open, n peko has to literally hold fuyuhiko back to stop him just bolting down there as fast as he can.

they get to have a fucking cool fight scene when they’re down there, because I can’t resist letting Peko absolutely go off with her sword, and we saw what kinda mess akane and nekomaru can make fighting in the despair arc. those three people could definitely take down like 30 people between them, trust me on this one.

the worst part is when they get to the room that has hajime in it. the door got locked when whoever got him realised that they’d had a security breach, and it’s a proper lead door that won’t open for anybody and everybody has to repeatedly throw themselves against it in order to get it to open. everybody’s panicking, but there is nobody worse than fuyuhiko. like, to the point where some of them are worried that he’s gonna get his ass despaired again. but nobody says anything because main priority is hajime.

at some point, nagito started looking through the pockets of the people that got absolutely knocked tf out, and Lucky Him! he finds a key! it’s maybe the first time ever that fuyuhiko ever thanks him for something (and my god does he thank him like, he’s crying and while he’s a lil bit aggressive he’s so grateful) and they get in and find hajime hooked up to a ton of different machines.

you ever heard of project MKUltra? when the US government tested psychedelic drugs (particularly LSD) as a torture device/truth serum? yeah well, this is it! hajime is tripping absolute balls and not in a fun way, occasionally getting some electric shocks! why? well, it’s in the “doctor’s” file on the desk! because wouldn’t hajime also be the ultimate weapon if he’s the ultimate everything else? imagine having him as something that can be controlled, told what to do. you could end the world, overthrow a government, you name it!

mikan has to carefully remove the electrodes from him because he’s fighting her hard, but there isn’t a way to get him to stop tripping and freaking out until it passes, except to just straight up sedate him. they have no idea how long this has been happening to him or what he’ll be like when it’s over. mikan has to scrounge through everything that this place has to find something, and even though it takes a while she does eventually find a high enough dose sedative that will help without just making him OD and die. unfortunately, it has to go in through a needle.

historically, hajime isn’t good with needles. he’s even worse when he’s off his fucking face and having the very definition of a Bad Trip. he barely knows where he is, and there’s a part of him that does recognise the people around him but his brain isn’t working properly and he just can’t stop freaking out. he’s already restrained though, so it isn’t too hard to just quickly sedate him. fuyuhiko’s basically glued to him now, telling him he’s sorry and that he’ll be okay soon, that it’s gonna be alright.

luckily, without getting it directly and constantly, the effects of LSD only take around 12 hours to wear off. by the time they’re back at wherever they’re living, most of the hallucinations have worn off, but he’s quiet and hurt, and the electric buzzing kinda fried his brain a little bit - he’s still there, but izuru is basically the one in charge of the body right now since he’s letting hajime rest for now.

fuyuhiko still thinks izuru is a little weird, but like... he’s part of hajime, so he’ll put up with whatever bullshit izuru can throw at him. izuru isn’t as affectionate, but will hold his hand every so often and give him small smiles when he needs them, and it just feels good to have him back and safe. when hajime comes back again though, it takes a while before he can be left alone again. not that fuyuhiko is leaving his side basically ever now because he’s sure as hell not letting that happen ever again. and it takes him a while to heal, he never truly forgets or gets over what happened to him, but everybody’s there for him. he knows he has a family now, and everybody understands if he needs to go away for a little while and let izuru take care of the body when he can’t.

okay this got super long and i am very sorry but you threw this concept at me and i ran because i love angst so much, but the comforting after the angst is also so good.

#drabble #multi-fandom-trashbin #tw angst #tw drugs #tw human experimentation #my god this was so much fun to run with and write about #please never hesitate to send me more whenever the fuck you like

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years ago

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Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

#Merlin Fandom Stop Forgetting About Elyan Challenge #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #fish post

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btschooseafic · 3 years ago

Text

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you…” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

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adultingautistic · 4 years ago

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Hey there, I’m Shenya and I have autism and ptsd. So my question is, do you know how I can develops stims for dealing with the terror I feel during a flashback? I’m doing all I can but it’s rough.

Ask Date: September 12th

Hi Shenya!

I’m so sorry you’re going through PTSD and flashbacks right now. Those are really horrible, worse than the nightmares (to me). I do not know if you’re in therapy right now, but if you are, the therapy called “EMDR” has helped me with my PTSD, and I highly recommend it. I haven’t had a flashback in a very long time (though I still get the nightmares :\).

So I’ve said that because I want you to know that I really do understand, I’ve been there.

But I don’t know that “developing” a stim is quite what you need. Developing a stim is usually something a person has to do in order to try to stop doing another stim (usually a harmful one). And it’s hard work, it’s mentally exhausting, and I don’t think you need to go through that right now.

What I think is best for you is for you to allow yourself to stim. Truly, truly let yourself. Let me give you an example. I just did this yesterday, so your ask is perfect timing.

I had to go to the doctor to get my flu shot. Doctors are very triggering for me and I never really come out of there unscathed. Thankfully it was a very quick appointment, I was the only patient there, and I was in the waiting room for only like, 5 minutes.

Then they called me back into the room where they give shots and take blood (not the same as an examination room, it only has a chair not an examination table).

The nurse told me to take a seat. I’m very easily overloaded by touch input and so I didn’t want to sit. So I kept standing. I’m already scared and I’m already, stimming- but it’s restrained stimming. I’m rocking side to side by switching my weight on my feet, just a little, and I’m opening and closing my hands, squeezing my thumbs over and over. It felt like the nurse was taking forever and I could feel my heartrate going up up up up I didn’t know what she was even doing that could POSSIBLY take this long (when you’re panicking, time stops, and so she probably only took 5 seconds to unwrap the shot or something).

Finally she gives me the shot. I try to leave and she says “Wait, I have to put a band-aid.” I freeze where I am, halfway out the door, still squeezing my thumbs over and over. She puts the band-aid and I walk straight out of there, still doing all my “restrained” stims.

But restrained stims aren’t going to do shit for me right now. My arm is starting to hurt and that’s so incredibly overwhelming I can’t even describe it. So I drive my car to the edge of the parking lot where I can have some privacy, and I let myself do real stimming.

I rock back and forth and rub my arms super hard and repeat nonsense syllables over and over, loudly, shouting them to drown out the Bad Overload. I hit my head on the window over and over, I’m kicking my feet, I’m stimming with every part of my body and in that moment, I look autistic. If an allistic saw me like that, right now, they’d freak the fuck out. I don’t care, because I am fighting PTSD, and my mental health is more important than your comfort.

So I really, REALLY, allow myself to stim. To do ALL THE STIMS I WANT. Even harmful ones, like banging my head and biting my lips. It doesn’t matter. My mental health is more important.

After about 20 minutes, I’m able to calm down and appear “normal” again. I play some games on my phone until I’m sure I’m really calm enough to drive, and then I go home, where I feel exhausted, the same as if I’d had a meltdown, because I nearly did. But I didn’t. Because I stimmed.

Now I’m not claiming that allowing yourself to stim, to really stim, is going to be a magic medicine and force the flashbacks to stop. But it will help you handle those emotions just a little bit better- because that’s what stimming is for. It’s self-regulation, and all autistics use it to help us balance the Bad Inputs that our brain receives, either sensory or emotional.

So the answer for “what stims you should use” during a flashback are YOUR stims. Your real stims, YOUR ones. The ones that make YOU feel most comforted. The ones you’ve always tried to do, and have been told not to. For me it’s rocking, banging, and screaming nonsense syllables, and sometimes singing. That doesn’t mean they’re the same for you. It’s whatever your brain does to try to comfort itself. And when you’re as vulnerable as you are during a PTSD flashback, you have to let your brain use every tool it has to comfort itself. You can’t care about what allistics will think. This is your mental health, and it’s too important.

You’re going to look autistic when you do it. And if you aren’t able to do it in front of other humans, I understand. I can’t either. I had to find a safe place where I was alone first. Because their reactions always just make everything worse. I don’t need to deal with you and your discomfort at how weird I am right now. I have real things to handle.

This is, in a sense, “autistic grounding.” A lot of PTSD therapies talk about “grounding”, meaning to keep you in the present moment- and there is nothing more present than your body. Stimming IS grounding, grounding in its purest form. The more mask you remove, the more autistic you let yourself be, the more power your brain will have to handle the PTSD, because it’s not wasting energy on masking (masking is any action you do to “stop” looking autistic).

So that is my advice. It doesn’t matter which stims you do so long as they are your stims- the ones that make your brain feel the most comforted. The more you are fighting to hide your stims, the less energy you have left for fighting PTSD. The more you allow yourself to do your stims, the more energy you have for fighting PTSD.

I truly hope I’ve been able to help you even a little, as I really do understand what PTSD is like. I also want to let you know that it absolutely does get better over time. Not nearly as fast as you’d like. But it does. Really. The road ahead is brighter than the road behind you, so just keep looking forward, knowing you will get there. You will. *hugs*

#actuallyautistic #actually autistic #PTSD #meltdowns #stimming #harmful stimming #tw: self harm #self harm #ask

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Text

The Dinner Party

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader + Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Joe Mazzello, Gwilym Lee

Summery: Ben finds out about one of your fantasies and offers to help make it a reality.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ !!! it’s a big ol’ gang bang folks! unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), gags, restraints, choking, slapping, biting, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), a*al, orgasm denial, overstimulation/forced orgasm, nipple play, fingering, degradation, sexual objectification, handjobs, i think thats everything oh god i dont know theres a lot

Words: 11,538 (jesus)

A/N: I am so sorry I made you wait so long for this one - the last couple of months have been fucking whack as heck. Anyway, I hope she was worth waiting for! I’m gonna go have 12 cold showers in a row and scream for a while.

(its so fucking hard to find photos of all of them together jesus christ)

Taglist: @idontbelievethiss @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks

“So, uhh, that fantasy you sent me the other night,” Ben ran his fingers lightly up and down your arm, “You really got off to that?” You could feel the sweat caught between your back and his chest, skin sticking together where you leaned against him. His hand was heavy on your stomach, moving with you as you wiggled around, trying to decrease the sticky discomfort. “Well, yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have sent it. Was it too much?” It was something you did when you were away from each other. When you’d been apart for too long and you were yearning for each other's touch. You’d message each other with what you’d thought about while masturbating. Like a lot of the little traditions and patterns you and Ben developed, it had started as a joke. But now it felt weird to not do it. Sometimes it was links to porn videos or erotic stories found online. Sometimes it was reminiscences about previous nights together. And sometimes it was just one word. You. “No, it was pretty hot actually.” This time the distance had been caused by Ben’s filming schedule taking him overseas for three whole months. It was the longest you’d been separated in a while, and your game had turned into a bit of a competition. Trying to one up each other with wilder fantasies. You’d sent the last one, drawing on something you’d thought about a lot but never really divulged to anyone before in order to claim victory. The moment you’d hit send you’d worried it was too much. Ben knew you had a thing for exhibitionism and for being treated like an object, happy to help you indulge in them from time to time, but you’d never really exposed how deep they went. His response amounted to an oh my god and a couple of flushed face emojis. No come back, no one upping. Just three words and two little symbols. You hoped it was because he had nothing hotter to counter with and not because you’d freaked him out too much.

Three days later he was back home, hurriedly removing your shirt within minutes of walking through the door. The sex was neither sweet nor soft, though the way Ben sat up and pulled you against him afterwards, kissing your temple in the process, was both. “Glad you think so. It’s one I’ve thought about a lot.” “And you’ve never mentioned it before why?” “I don’t know, not every guy would be cool hearing about how his girlfriend dreams of being used by a bunch of strangers.” “Okay, yeah, spose that’s fair.” He was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly stroking your skin with feather light touches, “But if you got the chance, you’d really want to do something like that?” “I think so, yeah. Maybe not actually with strangers. Don’t think I’d feel comfortable enough to get into it if I didn’t know and trust everyone there. But in theory, yes.” “What if... what if I could arrange for something like it to happen?” “What?” You sat up straight and turned to face him, convinced you’d misheard him. “If I found some people you were comfortable with who... wanted to help make this a reality would you want to do it?” “You’re taking the piss, right?” “I swear I’m being serious. If you wanted to actually do something like that, I’d be into it. I’d help set it up.” “Are you feeling okay?” you pressed the back of your hand to Ben’s forehead like you were checking his temperature but he just laughed, grabbing you by the wrist so he could bring your hand to his lips. “I feel fine, babe.” His smile hit you like a ton of bricks. Fuck you’d missed that smile. “Can’t blame a girl for checking,” “Look, what you described was incredibly hot and the idea of watching you be used like that...” he trailed off but you didn’t need him to say anything else, his rapidly hardening cock was proof enough. You repositioned yourself on your hands and knees, taking his cock in one hand, “You wanna watch me, blindfolded and restrained, being fucked until im crying? Wanna see me helpless and desperate and used by a whole group of people?” Your strokes along his shaft were interrupted as Ben wrapped his hand around your throat. “I really do,” he growled as he pushed you back onto your knees, “but I think I need to fuck you again, make sure you remember who really owns your cunt.”

Ben didn’t mention it again that week, though he barely let you out of his reach. He always got extra clingy and cuddly after you’d been reunited, surprising you with soft deep kisses and tight hugs at random. Always finding some reason to touch you, a hand on your back while you were standing at the stove, brushing fingers as you slipped past each other in the corridor, clutching your waist as he pulled you onto his lap while you played video games together. You figured he’d forgotten about your conversation now that the immediate heat and need for each other had been replaced with a softer desire to just be close. Not that you minded. You were happy to let that fantasy remain a fantasy, and if you were honest you hadn’t fully believed Ben when he suggested making it happen for real. Until he brought it up about a week and a half after his return.

You were watching TV, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you, when he spoke. “So I got a call from Lucy today, turns out in a couple weeks time the whole band will be in London. We’re planning on meeting up for a few drinks, something like that.” “Oh that’s so great Ben,” you said, pulling your eyes from the ad for bathroom cleaner you’d been mindlessly staring at and looking up at him, “Be nice to see everyone again, all at once.” “Yeah. Actually, I thought I might suggest they all come over here for dinner one night.” “That’s a wonderful idea.” “And, uh, if you were still interested, we could maybe give them all a chance to fuck you.” You choked, an exclamation of surprise catching in your throat. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Ben said, almost laughing as he hurried to get you a glass of water. You glared at him through watery eyes as your coughing fit subsided, gulping down the water as soon as he’d handed it over. “What the fuck?” you rasped out once you were back in control of your voice. “I didn’t think you were going to choke. Just thought it’d surprise you. You alright?” “Yeah, fine. But what the fuck?” You grabbed the remote to mute the TV, a signal that you wanted Ben to take this conversation seriously. “It was just a suggestion,” he said with a half shrug, “You said you’d be interested in doing it.” “I am, I just.... They’re your friends Ben, wouldn’t it be kinda weird?” He shrugged again, “Maybe at first. But you said you’d be more comfortable if you knew the people involved. Well, you know them. And I trust them. It’s worth thinking about at least.” You paused, chewing your lip as you took in what he was saying properly, the original shock having passed. It did kind of make sense. “Would… would they be into it?” you said slowly. “I mean, I’d have to talk to them. But, yeah, I think so.” he shrugged slightly. “And you’d be okay with it?” “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Really? Ben it’s one thing to think about it while you get off or talk about in the abstract. It’s a whole other thing to actually watch your girlfriend having sex with other people, especially your friends.” you shifted in your seat, moving to kneel beside him and reaching out to stroke his cheek, “I don’t want you to do something you’re not fully comfortable with just to try and make me happy. It was my fantasy to begin with and I am totally okay with leaving it like that. Really think about this before you say anything else.” He reached up, taking your hand in his and tracing lines over the back of your fingers, “But I have thought about it. A lot. Kind of non-stop actually. And I want to do it, if you do.” “Really?” “Yes. Look, it’s not like there’s gonna be feelings involved. This isn’t making love on a bed of roses type stuff. I’m not gonna be watching you have a romantic night with anyone. I’m gonna watch you being treated like a living sex toy by multiple people. Probably join in a bit too. And you’re not the only one who can set boundaries. If there’s anything I don’t feel comfortable seeing happen I’ll let everyone know.” You opened your mouth to speak but Ben cut you off. “If you ask me ‘really?’ one more time,” he laughed, pulling you off your knees and onto his lap, “Y/N, I promise you I am more than okay with this. It might have been your fantasy but it was my suggestion to actually do it. If it was strangers involved it’d be different. But the guys? None of them are going to hurt you, they’ll all respect whatever rules we put in place, and they’ll make sure it’s fun.” Your eyes roamed over Ben’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort or unease but all you saw was a plea for trust. “Okay. Talk to them, see how they all feel about it. But if anyone isn’t into it, the dinner stays as just a dinner. Deal?” “Deal.” He rested his forehead against yours, “I love you.” You hummed, kissing him softly. “Love you too, Benny.”

Over the next week Ben talked to everyone individually, gauging their interest in the dinner party and any extra activities that may involve. Some were a little more hesitant than others but by the end of the week everyone was a hard yes. It made your stomach tighten every time you thought about it, anticipation and excitement and nerves building as you counted down the days. You and Ben worked out the rules, where lines would be drawn and where boundaries would lie to ensure the night was safe and fun for everyone involved. You collected supplies, discussed and re-discussed how everything would work as well as planning the actual dinner party aspect – food and drink and music. As the night got closer you found yourself more and more aroused, constantly wet, unable to think about anything else for too long. Ben for his part seemed just as affected by it as you were and you found yourselves naked together much more frequently than you’d expected to. Not once was it rough though. It was like the two of you were saving all your energy for the dinner party, spending the hours in bed having lazy, gentle sex, soft kisses and gasped names and whispered ‘I love you’s. By the time the actual night rolled around you were burning for something harder and faster, looking forward to being used and bruised.

Half an hour before everyone turned up you started to get ready. You’d been wearing your plug all day, at Ben’s suggestion, but it still made you shiver when you caught a glimpse of it as you were getting dressed, the sparkly jewel catching the light as you checked your reflection. The lingerie you’d picked out left very little to the imagination, a crotchless thong and matching sheer bra, the garter belt and stockings the most modest part of the outfit. You fixed your makeup, adding extra mascara and reapplying your lipstick knowing it would just end up smudged.

“They’ll be here in ten babe, you ready?” Ben asked as he knocked on the bedroom door. You took a deep breath, looking over yourself one last time before you left the room. The soft ‘wow’ Ben gave you made you giggle as he led you through your unit to the mixed living/dining room. You’d rearranged the furniture earlier, shifting the coffee table over to the wall which left space for you to kneel in front of anyone on the couch. The dinner table was already laid out for everyone, except you of course, a tray of champagne glasses waiting to be offered around. You headed towards the coffee table, running your hand along it as you checked all the toys were there. Some of them were things you’d used before, some were newly bought specifically for tonight. Each had been carefully considered between you and Ben, only those you were both completely comfortable with being put out.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said as you headed to your position in the middle of the room. Ben grabbed the spreader bar off the coffee table, attaching the cuffs to your ankles, forcing you to stand with legs wide open. The butterflies in your stomach went wild, everything suddenly feeling more real. “You all good?” Ben asked as he stood back up. “I’m wonderful. You?” “Brilliant.” He flashed you a reassuring smile and pecked you on the lips before turning to pick up the ball gag and press it into your mouth. Your lips stretched around it as he adjusted the fastening at the back of your head. You nodded to show you were comfortable and he turned once more, reaching for the black bandana that was going to be your blindfold for the night. You wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the pressure that had been building all day but Ben grabbed your hands, pulling them in front of you, palms up. You heard him walk away and then come back with the tray of drinks, placing it carefully on your upturned hands. “Okay, all set. I’m gonna go check the dinner but everyone should start arriving soon. See you afterwards.” You hummed your agreement as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His touch left you but he was still close by. You felt him lean into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he growled a final warning in the voice he reserved for dominating you. “Don’t drop the drinks, slut.”

You were left in almost silence. Your unit wasn’t huge but the kitchen was far enough away that the noise was muffled. Or maybe you were just so aware of how much being left alone in such a vulnerable position turned you on, that outside noise just wasn’t getting through as easily. It was just you and your pounding heart and your steadily growing arousal. Nothing to do but wait and hope your arms didn’t give out under the tray of glasses. You had no idea how long it had been. You’d had about ten minutes when you’d started being set up, surely that time would have passed by now. Saliva was beginning to dribble under the gag and over your lips, trickling slowly down your chin to drip onto your chest. You heard Ben come back into the room, heading towards the speakers he’d set up and beginning to play the mix he’d created, music turned down low so it filled the background without distracting. Still you waited, trying to focus on keeping the tray of drinks balanced. Then suddenly, the buzzer, shocking you slightly and making your heart race. Ben answered, giving whoever it was access to the building and moments later you heard talking at the door, listening intently for who had arrived. “Ben!” “Lucy, looking lovely as always.” A pause, “Rami, great to see you buddy. Head on in, grab a drink and have a look. No touching yet though, we’ve got some rules to go through once everyone’s here.” You heard footsteps, a pair of heels clicking over the floor and the duller noise of someone in flat shoes, getting closer. A girly giggle as two drinks were removed from your tray. You prayed it wasn’t going to change the balance and tip everything over. They were both quiet for a moment. You could feel their eyes on you, looking you up and down. “You know I half thought Ben was joking,” Rami said quietly making Lucy laugh. “Glad he wasn’t.” She said and you heard her heels again as she began walking around you slowly, taking in every inch of your helpless form, “She’s very pretty. Always thought Ben lucked out with her.” “Alright, Luce, keep it in your pants,” “Can’t help it. You know I can’t resist a helpless, restrained toy. And you have to admit she looks like she’ll be fun.” “She definitely does. Almost can’t believe it’s Y/N. She always seemed so sweet and not one for this sort of thing.” “Are you kidding? I knew she’d be into some kinky stuff the first time Ben introduced her to us.” “What? No way,” “Well okay, maybe not the instant I met her. You remember when we were at the restaurant with them, I went to the bathroom with her so I could chat to her, woman to woman, and I caught a glimpse of her wrist. There was a very clear mark that she was trying to hide, looked like it came from too tight handcuffs.” You felt your cheeks grow warm at the memory. God, if you’d known then that Lucy had worked out what you and Ben had got up to that morning, you would have died from embarrassment. But now all it did was turn you on more, heat pooling in your stomach. “God, see that?” Lucy suddenly exclaimed “See what?” “Right there, on the inside of her thigh,” “Oh my god, you’re right, she’s dripping.” The warmth of the oven spread through every room but you couldn’t suppress a shiver running down your spine as they both laughed, continuing to talk about you as if you weren’t there. You heard Ben walk back through the room as the buzzer rang a second time. The door opened and you said a silent thank you that Joe and Gwilym had arrived together, your arms already sore from holding them still for so long. Ben greeted them and told them the same thing he’d told Rami and Lucy – grab a drink, have a look, don’t touch. You were briefly forgotten as the two newcomers entered the room, everyone more focused on greeting each other until Joe asked where they’d got their champagne from. “She’s got them.” “Woah,” “Right?” “Is that really Y/N?” “Go on, have a closer look. She’s absolutely loving this.” “What d’you mean?” “She’s wearing crotchless panties and you can see she’s completely soaked.” “My god,” Your tray lightened again as another two drinks were removed from it. “Where’d Ben go?” “He said something about giving us a chance to have a look around. I assume he meant her.” “Hope he comes back soon, I’m itching to touch her.” “Jeez Luce, didn’t realise you’d be so into it.” “Well excuse me for getting into the spirit of it all.”

They kept talking, the conversation a mix of catching up and comments about you. When Ben came back, his footsteps audible beneath the chatter, he was met by dozens of questions though he wouldn’t answer anything about you straight away. Eventually he took the last glass, leaving you to hold the empty tray despite the ache in your arms, and tapped it with his fingernail to get everyone’s attention. “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt for too long” he said as everyone quieted down, “I just need your attention for a moment. There’s a few rules we need to cover before the fun can really start." He paused and you felt the energy of the room change, an electric current running through everyone as they focused on you and Ben. “Firstly, just to be clear, this has all been set up with Y/N’s consent. Everyone has agreed to participate but of course you aren’t obligated to, and if anything that happens makes you uncomfortable, please talk to me about it.” There was a brief murmur while Ben paused but once he started speaking again it stopped. “Y/N and I can stop the scene at any time. Our safe word is red but obviously it may not be possible for Y/N to speak throughout the night so she also has a safe signal, three slaps against something. It could be the floor or a wall or her own thigh or whatever, but three slaps or the word red means everything stops instantly. There shouldn’t be any need for us to use them though, if everyone follows the rules, which are, one: you can touch or fuck Y/N just about however you want, as long as there is no anal play. You may have noticed she’s wearing a plug tonight but her arse is off limits to anyone who isn’t me.” You whimpered softly behind the gag but Ben ignored you. “Two: For the boys specifically I guess, you are not allowed to finish in her cunt, but down her throat or over any other part of her is fine. Three: We expect some bruises and marks, especially if you choose to use some of the toys provided,” he gestured towards the coffee table, “but please nothing that will leave permanent scars, no burns or blood. Four: Degrading names are fine but stick with things like slut and whore and bitch, nothing too personal. And finally, on a slightly different though no less serious note, five: no forehead kisses or anything that has a romantic connotation. That one is less for her sake than mine. Everyone understand?” There was a chorus of yes’s in response before Ben spoke again. “Good. We trust you, it’s why we were comfortable setting this up and inviting all of you, but my main concern is keeping this fun and safe for everyone, especially for Y/N.” If it weren’t for the restraints and the desire to be good that had practically taken over your brain, you could have melted at the way he said your name. It carried the same weight as the words good girl or the ‘my’ in my slut. But before you had a chance to really appreciate it he’d moved on. “I promise, this is the last thing I’m gonna say. Tonight this is not the Y/N you all know. This is a toy who happens to look like her. She is an object, a breathing blow up doll, here for your entertainment, for you to talk about or talk to or to use however entertains you most. Her pleasure is not the priority. Now have fun.”

Everyone was still for a moment, not quite knowing how to start but then Lucy was coming towards you, the clacking of her heels almost ominous. “Can we get rid of the tray now? Maybe the blindfold too?” She asked. The general chatter started up again behind her but you focused on Lucy’s voice. “Sure thing,” Ben sounded more amused than anything, “You wanna leave her arms out or put them behind her back?” Ben took the tray and you let your arms drop, heavy with the strain of holding them up, a slight ache already in your shoulders. “Restrained I think” “Oi, Gwil, chuck us those handcuffs will you?” He called across the room before he turned back to Lucy, “I’ll give you the keys, Luce, let you decide how long she stays like that.” “Ben, you’ve just made my day,” They were both laughing as you felt your blindfold being tugged off and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. “Much better,” Lucy teased, standing right in front of you, her voice low and pouty, “now we can see those pretty eyes.” A familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling it behind your back, followed quickly by the other one as Gwilym joined Ben behind you and handed over the cuffs, the fluffy black cover in place to make it easier on your wrists. Lucy dragged her hand down the side of your face, distracting you from the two boys behind you. “Look at you, all dolled up for us. Don’t quite know where to start.” Her hand trailed lower, sliding along your jaw and down onto your neck. Your heart raced as the handcuffs clicked into place and Lucy opened her hand as if to choke you. Instead she lightly ran her thumb and fingers down the column of your throat, laying her hand flat once she reached your sternum. You jolted as Gwilym’s hands landed on your arse, grabbing you firmly and almost sending you toppling forward. Lucy continued to trail her hands down your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You wanted to beg for more, for them to stop teasing you, but the gag prevented you. All you managed to do was let more saliva drip onto your chest. “She’s got a nice arse, can see why you want to keep it to yourself,” Ben laughed, “Can’t expect me to share everything mate.” “Nice tits too,” Lucy said before she reared a hand back and brought it forward to slap one of them. You whined behind the gag, and Lucy’s face lit up. “Let’s hear that again.” Her hand rose up into the air as Ben grabbed your arms, holding you still as she brought it down on your other breast. You whined again, partly because of the slap and partly because of the way Gwilym’s fingers were sliding along your cunt. Every noise you made only served to cover you in more of your own spit. “You were right about how wet she is Lucy.” “Why don’t you bend her over and fuck her,” Ben said as he let go of your arms, “that’s what she’s here for and I can promise her cunt is just as good as her arse.” He gave you a final tap on the hip as he walked off, winking at you from over Lucy’s shoulder before joining Joe and Rami in their conversation.

The next thing you felt was Gwilym’s hand on your back pushing you to bend at the waist as he grabbed your bound arms where Ben had just let go. You looked up at Lucy as best you could, eyes wide at the sound of Gwilym’s zip being pulled down and the shuffle of his clothing. This was it. This was what you’d been secretly dreaming about for years, or close enough anyway. Lucy bent down slightly, bringing her face to your level as your hip was grasped hard by the man behind you. “She’s gagging for it Gwil, drooling everywhere.” That was the only encouragement Gwilym needed before he was sliding into you through the opening in your underwear, not giving you any time to adjust before he was fucking you hard and fast. The plug in your arse increased the fullness and tightness you felt and you squeezed your eyes shut as his hips snapped against you repeatedly. When you opened them Lucy was gone. Disappointment washed over you, compounded by the fact that Gwil was doing nothing to intentionally push you into an orgasm. His thrusts were forceful and made you whine around the gag but he wasn’t angled the right way to hit your g-spot and he refused to touch your clit. “Slow down for a minute would you Gwil, wanna get that gag off her.” Lucy was back, pulling Rami along by the hand. Gwilym adjusted his pace, slowing enough for Lucy to remove the ballgag from your mouth, a long string of spit dripping from your lips as it was thrown to the side. You gasped out, “thank you,” as Lucy ran her thumb over your chin, pushing the drool back up to your mouth. “Liked it better when you couldn’t talk. Rami, sweetie, why don’t you put her mouth to good use.” You whimpered as Rami released his cock and Lucy wrapped her hand around it, pumping a few times before she threaded her fingers through your hair to hold your head still. “Good girl, keep that mouth open nice and wide for us,” she cooed as Rami eased himself inside. He must have given Gwil some kind of signal that you’d missed, too focused on Lucy’s voice, because both of them began thrusting into you at the same time. This time Gwilym started slower, matching Rami’s pace as he worked himself down your throat, gradually speeding up again. Every noise you made in reaction to how Gwilym was fucking you was lost in a wet gag as your throat was used. Complete contrast to the slapping noises of Gwil’s hips against you and the grunts from both men. You knew they were both going to cum and that, at the rate you were going, you wouldn’t be just yet, and that only made you more desperate to touch yourself. It was very very rarely you’d been able to get off from penetration alone and though you tonight could potentially prove to be another of those times, it certainly wasn’t going to happen this quickly. Lucy must have sensed your need because she began to trail her fingertips down your back as she walked away from your head, eventually bringing her hand to your clit. You moaned as you finally felt some kind of relief, the sound muffled by the cock jammed down your throat. “So needy,” Lucy commented to no one in particular, laughing as she removed her fingers and heard you whine. And then she was back in front of you, sucking on the fingers she’d touched you with as she watched more saliva drip off your chin. “Oh, f-fuck,” you heard Gwilym grunt, his cock twitching as he slowed his hips and pulled out of you. You barely had time to register the sudden emptiness and increased desire before you felt him covering your lower back with his cum. He tapped your arse in appreciation and walked away. Lucy leaned in to whisper something in Rami’s ear and with another two thrust he was cumming too, making you swallow every drop before he fell from your lips and tucked himself away. “Think I need a stiff drink after that,” he said as he headed off to find something, leaving you alone with Lucy. You let out a breath as you stood up again, the ache between your legs stronger after Lucy’s much too brief touch. “Think I could use a top up too actually,” Lucy said as she looked around, “I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll find another use for your mouth. You whimpered as Lucy walked away as well leaving you alone, unable to move properly, dripping and needy, back itchy where Gwilym’s cum had landed. You could see Lucy talking to Ben as he topped up her glass of champagne, Rami and Gwilym standing with them. Turning your head, you found Joe, standing at the table where you’d laid out the toys that you and Ben were open to people using on you. He picked up the leather paddle Ben liked to use when you needed a punishment, tapping it against his palm a few times. Your instinct was to squeeze your thighs together but the spreader bar prevented you. Instead you watched, holding your breath, as Lucy joined Joe. You could see them talking and laughing, Joe still tapping the paddle against his hand absentmindedly. And then they were both walking in your direction, still talking, Joe still holding that damn paddle. You swallowed hard.

As soon as Lucy was in front of you, she wrapped her hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly as she took a sip of her drink. “I checked with Ben, he said this was okay,” She brought her lips to yours. Your first thought was that they were softer than Ben’s. Your second was that she tasted like champagne and strawberry lip gloss. Your third was how much it hurt when she bit your lip and pulled it. “Had to know,” she shrugged, looking at Joe. “Hey, no complaints here,” “D’you want to uncuff her, or should I?” “I’ll do it, you keep making out,” Lucy giggled as she handed over the keys. “Uncuffing me?” you croaked; voice rough from a mixture of not talking and how your throat had been used. “Only because I want your fingers. Gonna use them and that pretty mouth to get me off.” You whimpered and heard a chuckle from behind you as your wrists were finally released. “She hasn’t even heard what I’m gonna do to her yet,” “I was gonna let that be a surprise Joe,” You rolled your shoulders, stretching the stiffness from them, and confessed that you’d already seen the paddle. Lucy tutted as she undid the clasp of your bra, dropping it to the floor as she turned towards the couch and fell into it gracefully, “Might have to blindfold you again after this. Can’t have you ruining any more of our surprises.” She crooked her finger at you and you awkwardly followed her, the spreader bar inhibiting your movement so that each small step drew everyone’s eye. When you were close enough to grab onto the couch for support you eased yourself to your knees and shuffled as close as you could get. Lucy raised her dress slightly, hooking her leg over your shoulder. You could feel the heel of her shoe resting on your back as you were drawn towards her still clothed pussy, a large wet patch proof of how much fun she’d had so far. You hooked your finger into her underwear, pulling it to the side, just as Joe began to speak to the room at large. Lucy’s hand in your hair kept you focused on her, kitten licking along her lips, as Joe began to take bets on how many spanks you could handle before you begged to stop. You weren't sure who said which number, everyone’s voices bleeding into each other as they argued and defended their bets. The lowest you heard was a pitiful five, the highest you were sure came from Ben who put his money on twenty. After all, he knew he’d reached that with you before. You tried to keep your tongue on Lucy as the talk died down again and the nerves rose in your chest, everyone waiting for the first strike. The was a pause, almost silent, and then the paddle came down against your arse, splitting the air with a sharp slap followed by a chorus of voices counting the first strike. You let out a small hiss as you relaxed back into Lucy, drawing a gasp from her as you circled your tongue around her clit. You were a little more prepared for the second spank now that you had an idea of how Joe moved, how forceful his first one had been. It only made you jolt forward, your hitched breath covered by everyone calling out two! The spanks with the paddle came faster and harder as they progressed, making you gasp into Lucy’s cunt as you continued to lick along her folds, gradually adding your fingers one at a time. By the time they’d reached ten spanks you were fighting back tears, three fingers pumping in and out of Lucy, trying to distract yourself from the sting in your arse by listening to the moans and sighs falling from her lips every time you curled your fingers and lapped at her wetness. You could tell she was getting close, rhythmically clenching round your fingers, her heel digging into your back as you took yet another hit. You sucked Lucy’s clit into your mouth as you pressed your fingers in deep, curling them and making her moan. It didn’t take much more than that to have her cumming, though the way you whined as Joe spanked you again probably helped push her over the edge. You let her ride the orgasm out on your fingers, licking up her release until she pushed you away and let her leg drop from your shoulder. As soon as you were free you felt another spank, this one hard enough to push a sob from your throat and tears from your eyes. Everyone yelled out the number thirteen and you braced yourself for another.

You finally broke, crying out to stop at number twenty-two. Mascara stung your eyes and left black lines down your cheeks in the wake of tears you couldn’t stop. As chatter filled the room once more, discussing your performance and claiming Ben shouldn’t win any money since he clearly knew how long you’d last, you heard footsteps approach. Ben’s hand was warm against the back of your head and for a moment you let yourself drop out of the scene, leaning your forehead against his leg and breathing deep to control your tears. “Hey, that wasn’t too much was it?” Joe asked, eyes flicking between you and Ben. “No, not at all. Y/N knew how much she could take and you stopped when she said so.” “Okay, good. Just wanted to check. You seemed a little tense towards the end there.” “Mate, you’re fine. Just not the easiest thing to watch my girlfriend in that position when I’m not the one controlling how hard or how often she gets hit.” “Yeah, Joe, that was great,” you said, looking up at him through watery eyes, “Broke my record.” “And won me fifty quid,” “Good luck getting everyone to pay up,” he chuckled. For the briefest of moments, it felt like the three of you were just hanging out, joking around over a beer down the pub, until Ben leaned down to ask if you were alright to continue. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded, sitting back on your heels and hissing slightly as they came into contact with your red, stinging arse. Even the pain wasn’t enough to dull the ache between your legs. “Then why don’t you be a good whore and give Joe a proper thank you,” he turned to leave, stopping long enough to tell Joe not to be afraid to be rough. “Well come on, thank me. Haven’t got all night,” Joe towered over you as you hurried to unzip his pants, setting his cock free as you slid them down over his hips. You wrapped your hand around him, thankful to be able to use your hands, as you leaned in to drag your tongue over his tip, collecting the precum that had already begun to accumulate. Clearly he’d enjoyed spanking you. From the way he bucked his hips as you took him between your lips, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, you’d say he enjoyed it quite a lot. He let you set your own pace, bobbing your head as you took him deeper before pulling off him entirely, pumping your hand over his length. Your own need was too much to ignore and you trailed your free hand over your thigh, desperate for some sort of relief. You didn’t get very far though before Joe noticed. “Didn’t say you could do that,” he says as he knocks your hand away with his foot. “Please, Joe, need to cum so bad,” “Things like you don’t need anything. You just want it. Maybe you can convince me though.” He pushed on the back of your head and you took the hint, taking him back into your mouth. He left his hand resting lightly on your head but you could feel the weight of it, aware of how easy it would be for him to hold you down and make you choke. It did nothing to alleviate your desire. “That’s better,” he grunted as you hollowed your cheeks. You picked up the pace, the mere possibility of an orgasm spurring you on. He let out a string of muttered curses as you let him sink deeper, reaching up with your free hand to squeeze his balls lightly. You looked up at him when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, eyes meeting as he snapped his hips towards you, making you gag. When he brought his other hand to your hair you knew you weren’t in control anymore. All you could do was brace your hands on his thighs and try to relax your throat as he thrust into you again and again, heedless of your comfort, your breath, your choked moans. You knew he was getting close by the way he sped up, grunting as he held you down. And then he was out of your throat, covering your chest with his cum while you desperately sucked air into your lungs. You were still gasping when he pulled you back to your feet. He lazily trailed his fingers down your stomach, stopping right before he reached where you wanted him most. “Joe, please,” “No. Didn’t convince me. But maybe someone else will take pity on you.” He withdrew his hand, walking away.

Once again you were going to take matters into your own hands when you were stopped, this time by Ben who was clearly keeping a close eye on you. “Uh uh uh, that’s not allowed.” he said as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your dripping cunt, “if you don’t play along properly we’ll have to stop the game, and then you definitely won’t get to cum.” You whined as he pulled the black bandana from his pocket and tied it round your eyes again. “Didn’t expect you to lose this so quickly, let’s see how long it lasts before Lucy takes it off again.” You nodded, vision removed once more. “Now, are you going to be good or should I tie your hands up again?” “I’ll be good.” “Good. Can’t have you misbehaving in front of everyone.” He gave your arse a swat, making you whimper, as he walked off, leaving you alone and unable to see. It didn’t last long, the being alone part at least. One of the guys, you couldn’t tell who, trailed his fingertips over your collarbone, raising goose bumps and making your breath quicken. He remained quiet, giving you no hint to his identity, as he moved up your neck, fingers coming to rest where it met your jaw. He tilted your head to the side as he leaned in to attach his lips to your skin. You could feel your pulse beating hard under his tongue, a moan dropping from your lips as he kissed his way down your throat. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder before he left chuckling at the way you’d cried out. About a minute passed and then another set of hands were on you, rougher than the last. He, whoever he was, grabbed your wrist pulling your hand out so he could spit into your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock.

This was exactly how your fantasies normally went – just you and a series of anonymous people using your body however they wanted, rutting into your hand, squeezing your throat as they pinched and pulled your tits, bending you over so they could shove their cock into your mouth or examine the bruises forming on your arse. You could hear snatches of conversations as you were pulled around by numerous hands, never quite sure who was touching you at any given time. On your left you could hear Joe telling someone about the road trip he went on with some friends last month. The juxtaposition of such a casual conversation while you were being fingered to within an inch of your life made your head spin. It was the third time you’d heard the story during the night. Right before he got to the part about almost being left in a truckstop bathroom you heard the familiar click of Lucy’s heels. She was the only one you were certain of when she came close. Well, her and Ben – you had no trouble picking his footsteps or scent from everyone else’s. Perhaps you could have worked out the others except that thinking was becoming harder to do. Your body was covered in splatters of cum at various stages of drying, making you itch, your arse smarted, and you felt like if you didn’t cum soon you were going to combust. You’d been close more times than you could count but never quite got there before those who were fucking you pulled out and left you with their cum straining your underwear or dripping from your lips. You moaned as the fingers still pumping into you sped up. “C’mon Gwil, be nice and let her cum, she looks desperate,” So that was who was tormenting you at the moment, Gwilym was the reason you’d been saying nothing but the word please for the last three minutes. “Think you mean pathetic,” he made no move to alter his pattern “Well if you wont, I will,” her fingers drifted down towards your clit, circling you slowly as Gwilym continued finger fucking you. It only took a few seconds for her to have you moaning out your release, coating both their hands in your juices as you rode the orgasm for as long as they let you. “Thank you,” you said breathlessly as both of them removed their hands from you. Gwilym tapped his fingers against your lips until you let him push them into your mouth. Leaning into your ear he softly said, “I’m going to fuck you again before the night’s done. Properly.” You heard him retreat but then Lucy was grabbing your hand, placing it between her own legs. “Fair’s fair.” She was wet, her cunt welcoming you with a squeeze as you let two fingers slide into her. You began to build a steady pace, searching for that spot that would make her knees buckle. She threw her arms over your shoulders for support as you added a third finger, her nails digging into you as you let your thumb land on her clit. Her moans were muffled by your neck as you pushed her closer to her release, curling your fingers and stroking until she came on shaking legs. “I’m going to have to ask Ben if I can borrow you for a night. Chain you to my bed and play with every inch of you until I can’t cum anymore.” You lost track of how long you’d stood there, being repositioned over and over. Sometimes you had less than a second before one cock was replaced by another, sometimes you were left alone for what felt like hours, listening for any hint of someone approaching but only hearing the conversations happening around you.

When Ben announced that dinner was ready everyone moved toward the table, replacing chairs they’d moved around during the night, a couple of people giving you a last squeeze or slap as they passed. Ben knelt down to release your feet and you almost collapsed against him as he led you towards your designated seat. It was one of the chairs taken from the table everyone sat at, pulled off to the side so you were still within view without being the center of attention. He pulled your arms behind the chair, securing you in place with the handcuffs so you couldn’t move. You could smell the roast Ben had spent the afternoon preparing, along with all the accompanying sides that you’d helped him make. “Is Y/N not eating with us then?” Lucy asked. “Toys don’t need to eat,” “She’s probably full anyway,” Joe said matter-of-factly, “y’know, from how much she’s swallowed tonight.” There were snorts of laughter amongst the tinkling sounds of cutlery and glasses, followed by the melodic buzz of talking, sometimes discussions that involved the whole table, sometimes just kept between two or three people. Occasionally you heard your name mentioned making you jump and focus on the conversation. More often than not it was Ben mentioning you in passing as he talked about the day trip you’d taken to the beach last week or something else equally mundane. But the few less innocent comments you heard made you squirm. Hearing Rami describe how incredible your tits were was enough to have you whimpering, and hearing Gwil talk about how hot you sounded when you came had you clenching your thighs together in your chair. “Fuck, look at her now,” Joe said, accompanied by the sound of someone shifting their chair for a better look, followed by a louder, “you alright?” directed towards you. You whined, knowing you sounded completely desperate but beyond caring, as you tried to get some sort of relief. “Needy whore,” “Wants to be fucked some more,” said with an accompanying laugh. “Someone should do it. Dinner and a show.” “Nah, let her squirm a bit longer,” “If you boys are quite done, I think I have an idea,” “She’s all yours,” You whimpered as Lucy pushed her chair back, listening as the sound of her shoes went past you and then returned a few seconds later. You got a whiff of her perfume, floral and sweet, as she leaned down, hands resting on your thighs. You could feel something pressed between her palm and your leg but couldn’t work out what it was, not with her talking to you so softly, her breath tickling your ear and sending a shiver through you. “You wanna cum again, don’t you? Poor thing.” All you could do was nod, whimpering out a soft, “please.” You were already trembling as she knelt between your legs, caressing your thighs softly before she hooked her fingers into the band of your thong and slid it off you. She lifted one of your legs onto her shoulder so she could push the unknown object into you before she let your leg drop back down and stood up again. You were panting, unsure why she’d teased you so, as she took her seat again. “What’d you do, Luce? Nothing happened,” Rami barely finished speaking when you felt the egg vibrator come to life and a small oh slipped out of your mouth. The vibration increased sending you hurtling towards the orgasm you so badly wanted. You clenched your legs together as you moaned through your release, Lucy reducing the power of the vibrator as you came down. You had maybe five seconds to compose yourself before it was being turned back up again, pulling a string of moaned expletives from you as you fell into another orgasm much more quickly than you ever had before. “There’s your show,” Lucy laughed over your whines as your sensitivity grew. “Pass me the controller for a minute,” Joe said, “how do you use it?” “Just spin that wheel, up makes it vibrate more,” “Like this?” You jerked in your chair as it got stronger, whimpering when he turned it down again. “Oh, easy. Think I’m a little scared of you now Luce.” There was laughter as you tipped over the edge again.

They didn’t let up until they’d had their fill, finishing their dinner to the sound of your heavy panting and moaned requests to stop as you unsuccessfully tried to squirm away from the constant vibrations. The controller was passed from person to person, each one changing the settings according to their own whim. For a while you were left with a low-level buzzing as the controls sat by Gwil’s plate, untouched, giving you as much respite as you could hope for under the circumstances. But then it was back in the hands of Joe who delighted in making you scream as he turned it up high. By the time everyone had eaten their last bite and complimented the meal, the controls were in Ben’s hands. If you’d hoped for leniency, for a kind word of praise as he set you free, you’d hoped wrong. Ben did halt the vibrator, turning it off as he walked towards you and removed your blindfold again, but he also twisted his hand through your hair so he could tug your head up, forcing you to look at the table. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on you as Ben spun the controls to the highest possible setting, watching as your hips bucked and your back arched as much as your bound position would allow you. You couldn’t even scream as you came again, your voice catching in your throat as all the air was pushed from your lungs at once. When he was satisfied with your performance, Ben turned it off and reached between your legs to pull the egg from you, pocketing it as he began collecting dirty dishes with the help of an insistent Lucy, leaving you twitching in the chair. You closed your eyes for a second in an attempt to settle your pounding heart, opening them to find Rami standing in front of you. “I know you lost count of how many orgasms you just had,” he said softly as he kneeled between your legs, “but I’m going to take another one from you.” He pushed your legs wider, probing at your entrance with two fingers as he rubbed your clit with his other hand. You didn’t think you could cum again but his unhurried movements built you up despite how sensitive you felt. He watched your every reaction as he changed the angle of his fingers until he found your gspot. You shook as you tipped over the edge again, unable to resist his steady strokes. “Good girl, knew you had another one for me.” he said as he wiped his hands on his pants.

“What do you think Rami?” Joe asked as he and Gwilym approached. “What do I think about what?” “Best way to play with a girl’s nipples,” “Oh, I guess, like this,” Rami reached out with one hand, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers before tugging it away from your body, making you loudly whine. “Is that really your favourite way?” “It’s a classic. Simple. Easy to control. You can add a twist,” he twisted your nipple until you tried to jerk away, “for a little extra pain if she’s into that.” Joe scoffed, “You cannot beat sucking on a nipple. It’s clearly the best way,” he lowered his head to your chest, his breath fanning out over your sensitive nipple as he moved closer. He took it into his mouth, tracing his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, releasing a soft moan at how good it felt until he suddenly clamped his teeth down, making you wince. “See? Nothing beats a little bit of tongue and teeth. Well okay Gwil, since you clearly disagree, you wanna demonstrate for the class?” “I don’t necessarily disagree. It just depends on what you want to achieve.” Joe raised his eyebrows and waved his hand, inviting Gwilym to go on. “Well if you want her to moan then yeah, either of your methods is great. But if you’re looking for something a little more painful, maybe more of a punishment, you can’t beat the flick.” Without any warning he dropped his hand towards your other nipple, flicking it quickly, making you jolt. “It’s especially good if you surprise them with it after you’ve been fairly gentle. And the more you do it, the more it hurts.” “Show me again?” Gwilym repeated his flicking motion on both your nipples at once, and then again, each one sending a shock of pain through your chest. You whimpered as his fingers were replaced by Rami’s on one nipple and Joe’s on the others, both testing the flick for themselves. “Okay, that’s pretty good.” “I’ll expect your cheques in the mail soon,” “Wonder what Ben thinks,” Joe said, heading off to find out, followed by Rami. Gwilym stayed behind. “What say we get you out of those cuffs now?” Gwil said as he picked up the keys from where Ben had left them near you. You nodded, expecting there to be a catch, but he leant down behind you and unlocked your restraints without another word. You brought your arms to your front, rolling your wrists, but didn’t have time for anything else before he was dragging you from the chair to the table and pushing you down over it. “Told you I was gonna fuck you again.” Your nails scratched over the smooth surface of the table, looking for something to cling on to as he bottomed out. The best you could manage was to grasp the side of the table, knuckles turning white and plea for him not to stop, as he fucked you. You clenched around him, reaching your peak and falling into an underwhelming orgasm right as he pulled out of you. Before you could stand up again he was pulling you backwards and pushing you to your knees. “Mouth,” he grunted and you had a few seconds to register the way Gwilym was pumping his fist over his cock before he was coating your lips and chin. You had just enough time to swallow what you could lick up before Rami pushed his cock between your lips. It took you by surprise, not having realised the others had returned but you tried to stay relaxed as he thrust into your mouth a couple of times before Joe replaced him. Your hands flew up to grasp their shafts as you alternated between them, sucking one as you jerked the other. Suddenly your hair was being tugged on as Lucy spun your head towards her. She used her free hand to remove her underwear and you obediently leaned in to suck her clit, still jerking Joe and Rami. Lucy pushed you closer to her, your nose nudging her clit as your tongue wandered lower, pulling a few softly spoken expletives from her. You felt like you’d just found the perfect rhythm to please the three of them when you were grabbed under your arms and pulled away. You were dropped on your feet in front of Ben, who sat on the couch. He spun you round and you squealed as he swatted your still sore arse but you bent over for him all the same, trying to relax as he carefully removed the plug he’d wiggled into you that morning. The lube was cold as he squirted a generous amount onto you, using his fingers to make sure you were ready before he pulled you backwards, spreading your cheeks as you slowly sunk down onto him. “Breath,” he said into your ear and you realised you’d been holding your breath, “You good?” “Mmhmm,” you tilted your head back, eyes closed as the stretch settled into a deep fullness. Ben leaned into the back of the couch, almost lying down, and you felt your legs being spread. You barely had time to react to Rami plowing into your cunt, the moan getting caught in your throat as Joe filled your mouth with his cock. Somewhere to your left you could hear Gwilym and Lucy laughing about you being sealed airtight but the joke barely registered in your brain, much too concerned with how incredibly full you were. Joe timed his thrusts to match Rami’s, the force making you rock on Ben’s cock even as he stayed relatively still. Your eyes fluttered shut, stray tears clinging to your eyelashes as you tried not to let the mix of sensations overwhelm you. You felt the couch dip a little as Lucy knelt beside you, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers at her entrance. She rocked against your hand, chasing the release she’d been close to getting from your tongue. Gwil grabbed your other hand, wrapping it around his cock, but you hardly noticed his rutting as Ben suddenly thrust up into you. Your whole body felt hot, a fire spreading through you as you were fucked from every angle, a fuzz settling in your brain as the pleasure took over. You shook as an orgasm rolled through you, Rami pulling out of you and jerking himself off onto your tits. As soon as Rami stepped back Joe took his place, pushing deep into you as Lucy brought your head to her chest. She arched her back into you as you sucked a nipple into your mouth. Joe and Ben were so in sync as they thrust in and out of you, filling you more completely than you’d ever felt before. “Fuck,” Joe grunted as he pulled out of you, cumming over your stomach. You whined as Lucy pushed three fingers into your overly sensitive cunt, your head being pulled away from her breasts so Gwil could fuck your throat. Your own choked moans echoed in your ears as your whole body buzzed and your vision slipped in and out of focus. You felt like you were floating between them, unable to find anything real to cling on to or ground you. You were vaguely aware of Lucy’s rapidly increasing ohs as she rubbed her clit and reached her own release on your hand. She continued to pump her fingers into you, curling them until you were seeing stars. The moan you made around Gwil’s cock had him cursing as he filled your mouth with his cum, watching it drip over your lips as he pulled out. You hastily sucked in a breath of air, it going some way to making you feel less lightheaded, but the breath was quickly pushed from your lungs again as Ben grasped your hips and began to slam you down on his cock repeatedly. It didn’t take him long to reach his own climax, pulling out as he released his load so that it dripped down between your legs.

You still felt floaty and dizzy as Ben picked you up and lay you down on the couch with a pillow under you head. “She’s done guys,” he said to the rest of the group, nodding his head to the table as an invitation to join him. Everyone stayed a little while longer, sitting around and talking over coffee and cake like it was a regular dinner party, like they hadn’t just collectively fucked you into a different realm. You stayed curled up on the couch, dozing on and off as you gradually got the buzzing in your body to stop. Your dazed state stretched on as everyone left, snatches of goodbyes floating to you from the doorway. When you thought back a week later you could distinctly remember hearing Gwilym say he’d love to do that again if you were ever going to repeat the experience. Once the door was shut and the music stopped, Ben knelt down by your head, brushing your hair away from your face. “Y/N?” He said softly. You blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him. “That was fun,” you felt groggy and tired but you laughed as Ben pulled you into a tight bear hug, “You shouldn’t hug me Ben, I’m covered in cum and smudged makeup and lube and whatever else, gonna ruin your clothes.” “Clothes shmothes. As if I’m not gonna hug you after that. You were fucking incredible.” You buried your face in his neck, breathing deeply. “How do you feel?” “Like I need a shower.” “How about a bath?” “Even better.” Ben kissed the top of your head before he let you go, wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you to the bathroom. You picked up a facecloth as Ben ran the bath, using it to clean the mascara tear tracks and smudged lipstick from your cheeks and chin. “Let me help,” Ben said softly, dropping to his knees and unhooking your stockings from the garter belt, sliding both down your legs and throwing them into the laundry hamper. You ruffled his hair in gratitude, the tiredness you felt only getting more pronounced as the seconds slipped by. The tub wasn’t full but you needed to sit down, carefully stepping over the edge and easing yourself into the hot water. Ben quickly shed his own clothes, adding them to the hamper, and climbed in behind you. You stayed sitting just long enough to turn the water off before the tub overflowed, and then leaned back against Ben. “How do you feel?” he asked again as he picked up your soap and washcloth, “now that you’re in a bath I mean.” “Tired and a little sore. And kinda feel like crying but I’m not sure why.” He ran the washcloth along your shoulder and down your arm, beginning to scrub your skin clean. “Well I’ve booked you in for a massage tomorrow afternoon, so that should help with the sore. As for the tired, I am gonna make you stay awake a little longer, but you can relax while I take care of you and you can sleep in tomorrow.” “And the random crying?” “Just your brain rebalancing. It was flooded with a bunch of endorphins and different emotions. Cry as much as you need to, it’s cathartic and it’ll make you feel better.” You nodded, tilting your head back to look at him, “did you have a good time?” “Absolutely. That was so unbelievably hot. Definitely gonna keep me going next time I’m away,” You both laughed softly as he gently pushed you forward so he could wash your back. He pushed your hair out of the way and traced his finger over a mark on your shoulder.�� “You got a few souvenirs from tonight,” “Is that the bitemark?” “Yeah. Do you know who left it?” “Not really. At the time I thought it might be Rami but I’m not sure. What else have I got?” “Couple red spots where people slapped you. Quite a few scratches.” “Lucy,” you both said at the same time with a chuckle. Ben kept talking to you as he shampooed and conditioned your hair and while he wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. He kissed you on the forehead again and told you to go hop into bed, that he’d be with you in a moment. “And don’t go to sleep yet either. I’ll be quick.” You did as he asked, having just enough energy to slip into one of his tee shirts and a fresh pair of undies before hopping under the covers. You snuggled down deep, closing your eyes as your head landed on the pillow, ignoring Ben’s request to stay awake. But, try as you might, sleep wouldn’t come. Your body was too amped up, still kind of horny despite everything, leaving you simultaneously dead tired and wide awake. Sitting up again you reached for your laptop, figuring you might as well watch some Netflix or something. And then the tears started, virtually out of nowhere. When Ben came back, in fresh pyjamas straight from the clean washing yet to be put away, he found you hunched over, clutching your knees to your chest and crying uncontrollably. He placed the items he was carrying down on his bedside table before he joined you in bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you leaned into his chest. He rubbed your back and mumbled soft words of praise until you managed to stop. “Sorry,” you said as you wiped at your eyes, “it just hit me,” “Nothing to apologise for babe, I told you to let it out. Do you feel better?” “A bit, yeah,” “Here, brought you something,” he handed you a glass of water and a plate of food, everything from the dinner you’d been unable to eat, put aside especially for you, “wanted to make sure you ate something and drank some water before you slept,” You nodded already biting into a warm potato. “What d’you want to watch?” “Don’t care, as long as I don’t have to think.” He picked an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine at random. You’d both seen it before so it wouldn’t matter if you fell asleep while it played but it was funny enough to keep you entertained as your brain and body relaxed. After you’d finished eating Ben offered you a row from a block of chocolate claiming it’d help your body balance itself and feel more normal. You didn’t know if that was true but you ate it regardless. Finally he was ready to let you settle down. He got up to turn the light off as you packed away the laptop and once again snuggled down under the covers. You hissed slightly as he slid in behind you, coming into contact with your bum. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, should have got a cold compress on that earlier,” “‘s alright. Do it tomorrow, it’ll be fine.” your eyes were much too heavy to be worried about how you’d bruise. Ben agreed, pulling you against his chest carefully. “I love you Y/N, so much,” he said softly as he leaned his head against your neck. You were already asleep.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #borhap cast smut #borhap cast imagine #rami malek x reader #lucy boynton x reader #joe mazzello x reader #gwilym lee x reader #my writing #(it took a little longer than 10 mins to get up #cause i had some problems with formatting #but its here #its long (maybe too long lmao)#its filthy #god how did i get here?

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