#the only way fandom circles stay alive is by fans continuing to breathe life into them. but we are so often pushed to move on to the next | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

otp-armada · 5 years ago

Text

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because Clarke hasn't done anything that resembles romantic gestures toward Bellamy.

Conceding to march to her possible death in exchange for Roan sparing Bellamy's life. Obstinately fighting against Bellamy's stubborn wishes to remain outside the Ark while Praimfaya burns to the world to ashes. Shattering her soul by choosing 100 people to live and writing his name on the list, because he must survive. She can't have it any other way. Relinquishing 50 of those spots to Azgeda when Bellamy is captured and threatened, and Roan calls her bluff. Desperation driving her to the extreme to ensure the survival of the human race, yet unable to kill Bellamy to keep the bunker closed and the grounders from possibly killing Skaikru. Leaving the guaranteed safety of the fort to stay by Bellamy's side on the brink of global cataclysm. The bittersweet yet soft head and heart exchange she prompted. The hesitation in her last remark before imploring him to hurry.

4x13 ends six years and seven days post-Praimfaya with Clarke radioing Bellamy on the Ring. An activity she performs daily for six years. In any six years of my adult life, my only daily consistencies have been limited to breathing, eating, and sleeping. This girl is devoted enough to send her equivalent of love letters into the emptiness of space for 2,199 days. Season 5 opens with her trying to survive by herself in an apocalyptic wasteland. She spends her journey narrating to him her unvarnished struggles during the most traumatic experience of her young life to date. Her despondency. Her loneliness. Her agony. Her desperation. Her small victories. Her discovered treasures. Her determination. Her doubt. Her guilt. Her defeat. Her morbid self-reflection. Her relief and contentment. Her happiness. Her admission of missing him. She shares all of it with only him. Only he is permitted to know her to this depth. Not any of her other people on the Ring. Not any of her people in the bunker, a group including her mother. Not a spiritual communion to the great, big love of her life Lxa, situated on her throne in the high heavens and waiting for her trophy wife, for Clarke to stay connected to her dearly departed. Isn't that the sort of behavior that might occur by a bereft widow?

After finding an oasis to rest and call home, even after discovering a companion to build a life with, she continues with her radio calls. It doesn't matter that he never received her communications. The importance of the gesture- the intimacy of sharing her life and thoughts with him while he was gone- remains the same. The magnitude of her devotion to him made clearer through the absence of a single responding utterance.

She lovingly tells Madi stories of Bellamy as her hero. Gazing warmly, hopefully up at the stars as if she longs for her vision to cut through an endless pitch-black sky and find dark curls and freckled constellations from thousands of miles away.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because post-Praimfaya ended with an established B/E.

As Clarke looks up at the stars, questioning if she'll see Bellamy again, we transition to our first glimpse of Bellamy after six years, forlornly looking down on Earth to the very spot of green where he is unaware of who is yearning for him to return to her. Contrary to Clarke, who is covered in warm firelight when thinking of him, he is colored in cold, muted greys and blue, no speck of warm hue. (The rhyming scheme was unintentional, but hey, I'm going with it.) Behind him, his family is sparring, but he's distant from them. He's trapped within this tin can, his arms folded, his body taut, not facing the view on the other side of the glass, but still enraptured by the sight of his home below.

We see what changes to the characters and their dynamics have taken place until, at long last, we uproariously cheer as Bellamy & Co. find a way to return to Earth, the sole event we've been anticipating for eleven months, to the point we could feel it at our fingertips, jittery and tingly. Bellarke reunion!! He's going to know she's alive! Yes! Finally!! Break out the champagne! We're celebrating, dammit! It's going to be so damn emotional! Authors start crafting mental fanfics. People are bouncing off the walls like bright, errant fireworks, unable to sit still. I can't believe it's finally happening...what do you think it's going to be like? Will he run to her? Will he be stunned and speechless? Will they sob uncontrollably?!? They'll be clutching the life out of each other! Another Bellarke hug!! The very best hug!!! They're never going to let the other out of their sight again! He's going to meet Madi! Mom, dad, and adopted preteen make three!!! There's no way they're not getting together after this!! He just got her back after six years of thinking she was dead!! The reunion's not going to happen this episode, but maybe next week, when do you think? You mean we have to wait seven days before----

B e c h o.

We stood on the precipice of what we agonized and crawled through for eleven excruciating months, only for an anvil to drop, and our heads to be clubbed. Our bodies fell through the floor, descending lower and lower with immense haste, to take up residence in the seventh circle of hell.

Do you think the framing of these events wasn't intentional?

Do you think the powers that be behind the creation of that calamitous bombshell for our protagonist, intended for us to root for B/E?

By us, I'm not restricting the effect of the blow to Bellarke shippers. The entire audience, casual and fandom alike, shippers and non-shippers, was meant to await this reunion. We were all meant to feel devastated by this revelation.

If they didn't want to invoke in us feelings of support for B/E at their inception, how in the name of all things holy is a purported B/E endgame your conclusion?

"B/E doesn't make any sense," they say, "when last we saw them, she was his enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Do I think their pre-Praimfaya status as antagonists rendered it impossible for B/E to have a convincing love story or sexual relationship?

I think, if Jason were so inclined, we could have gotten flashback Ring rendezvous of secret trysts between Bellamy and a googly-eyed, blonde-wig-wearing broomstick designated Clarke 2.0. So no, I don't consider B/E a deviation inherently outside the realm of romantic possibility. Jason is an artist, and this show is his canvas. He can give life to almost any whim he'd like in his work of fiction. Not only that, but B/E is also hardly the first pairing in this series modeled by the enemies-to-lovers trope.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense, they'd say, "absent any concrete evidence alluding to a romantic relationship." "Seven years running, and not a trace of romantic love," they'd conclude.

Remind me, what was B/E's sublime prologue into coupling up again?

Furiously choking the life out of an enemy in a fit of rage two episodes before revealing her as his new girlfriend evidently can be considered by some an adequate precursor to a sensational romantic relationship. But endangering Earthkru's lives by risking the wrath of two societies in refusing to let Clarke die, pumping her heart for her to stay alive while begging her to fight so she can come back to him, cannot be.

Either this show is quite the oddity, or it’s fandom's periodic knee-jerk, ass-backwards, charming zeal at play.

The lack of rising development is all the more reason why B/E's grand unveiling demanded perfection. Instead, our first insight into their union is overshadowed by Clarke and the impending Bellarke reunion. B/E isn't central enough to the narrative to warrant focus that would put to rest any discord of illegitimacy. But you know which pair of the two is concentrated on for seven seasons now? Three guesses...

But don't despair. Fandom has decreed, by its own appraisal, the shorthand of kissing and sex has rectified the discrepancy of a complete absence of pertinent on-screen development.

"It's not ideal storytelling," they say, "to exclude B/E's development. But The 100 has historically been a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama. It has always evaded expanding on character dynamics to fans' satisfaction.”

The writers have done more to present Josephine and Gabriel as soulmates with less airtime than B/E ever had in total. They don't lack the skill or time to fortify B/E in anyone's mind as the central romance. Jason made a conscious choice not to. Why would he? Does he think the endgame love story of the show's deuteragonist doesn't merit attention to detail by the writing? Or does it seem more likely, it was never his intention for B/E to cross the finish line?

And, for a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama, they sure have an awful knack for finding the time to showcase Clarke's kicked puppy reactions to an embracing B/E. We've had three thus far. One for science, one for emphasis, and one to say, "Do you people get it now?"

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say, "if they wanted each other, they'd have gotten together by now."

A long time ago, someone stated, "Lovers are supposed to do that you know and if they don’t do that it means their relationship isn’t romantic if sexual intercourse isn’t added."

And to that, I posed the question, "Where exactly is it written that "if a pairing is not made canon by season [insert arbitrarily chosen number here], it will never be made canon, period?" Was I just absent from fandom class that day and skipped to the lesson on slow-burn ships?" We are going into the final season, and I stand by this question today as I did then. Bellarke could refrain from physical expressions of love and candid confessions to season 17, and their journey could continue to exemplify a love story. Because the absence of either one doesn't preclude two people from falling in love. Nor does the inclusion of either one necessitate two people falling in love.

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say. They say because Bellamy is her dearly beloved, but platonic, best friend.

Well, you've got me there. I'm stumped. How can it be possible for friendship and romantic love to behave as anything but mutually exclusive concepts? It's not as if friendship can be contorted to serve as a foundation for love.

The cornerstones of strong friendships include trust, care, support, devotion, and many other features of a similar nature. Love- deep and genuine love, that is- involves frequent kissing and passionate, vigorous sex. The wilder the display, the stronger the pairing. The dozens of couples, love interests, and sexual liaisons before B/E who have kissed and had sex before dying must not have first consulted the manual for proper protocol.

And the inverse? Once two people fall in love, they cannot fall back to say, a familial connection. No, no, no. Such a regression would be the work of a tragic, reprehensible flaw in the cogs of the universe. Speak nothing of it.

"It doesn't make sense for B/E to break up," they say, "when B/E has stayed together for two seasons sans any indication Bellamy loves Clarke more than Echo, enough to want to leave his loving girlfriend."

How many times has Bellamy tried and failed to honor his commitment to Echo? How many weak attempts are met with a corresponding scene of Bellamy shifting his attention to the girl he tells himself to get over?

Echo leaves for Shallow Valley, his focus immediately turns onto persuading Clarke not to leave his side. He symbolically chooses Echo in the fireside scene by touching her sword. Yet, he looks at his girlfriend for the first time since their separation with the most aloof expression unsuitable for the occasion. No hope to be found anywhere. They share a brief reunion hug, no time for intimacy. He is reunited with Clarke and casts a nervous glance at Echo when bombarded with Clarke's appreciative gaze. Still no time for intimacy between B/E before a decade-long nap, but time can be carved out for a warm, flirty Bellarke reconciliation, complete with intensive heart eyes. No inspired, emotionally wrought, double sunlit embraces for B/E. If Bellamy is going to look out of a window at his future home, he'll either be by himself or snuggling Clarke into his side. There's no place for Echo in the lock of his arms anymore, only room for flanking him in the way loyal lieutenants tend to do. His girlfriend glances over at him as their exploratory team roughly plummets to new territory, and he does the same at Clarke. B/E reconnects lakeside, him asking for a swim with her and leaning into her arms at a campfire. He sits by her side on a swing set, amidst talk of moving their people into an abandoned village. And it's all well and good for B/E, right? They're presenting the front of a happy, unified couple.

Until...Clarke walks away behind his sight, and he leaves Echo's side to seek Clarke's missing presence where the flirting and warm gazes and near confessions are kicked into overdrive. He calls Echo to hear his latest discovery, then proceeds to ignore the hell out of her, communicating exclusively to his co-leader. He stares wistfully at Clarke dancing with her new flavor of the night, cannot stop doing so even while excoriating Echo for her stoicism, expressing his frustration at her inability to fulfill his emotional needs.

He recommits to Echo, as Clarke is kidnapped and her body is stolen, with nary a transition, suggesting we are meant to link the two incidents together. For all his resolve to face the future with Echo, he spends the whole of the next episode with a wary eye on Clarke, to the point that he is the first to realize Clarke is not herself. In the ensuing arc ranging from 6x05 to 6x11, approximately half of the season, what was B/E, again? Was that a thing concurrently happening with Bellamy's Operation: Save My Clarke? Because I seem to be able to recall only Bellarke goodness. Oh, my mistake, there was the consoling hug which, oddly enough, did nothing to soothe him. As evidenced by his choice to grieve alone. No girlfriend he wanted close by for comfort, knowing clear as day she couldn't provide it if she tried. Not with who he just lost.

B/E gets another brief reunion hug, the majority of which is spent with him peering at Clarke. The show saw that hug and raised us an Austenesque-quality counterpart that would do Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy proud.

"B/E endgame is the only sensible outcome," they say, "they love each other so much."

I don't contend they don't love each other. But we are shown two people determined but incapable of snuffing their deep-rooted feelings out of noble propriety, and most importantly, out of needless fear of unrequited love. And another two people who sought- and failed- to keep grasping the wisps of a gentle relationship slipping out of their hands since they left their comfortable space bubble. For anyone in this conundrum to be happy, the only natural course of action is for the latter to call it quits. The writing has been on the wall for too long.

Maybe a single Bellarke scene plucked out of the lineup can be interpreted on its own as platonic buddies being platonic buddies. But when all those individual moments are woven together, what forms is an ornate tapestry with a pattern so vivid, any inane rhetoric involving a hint of the word "platonic" is little more than ludicrous anti drivel transparently cooked up by those wishing a different endgame.

I hope you've enjoyed my second long-winded rant, @sometimesrosy, @jeanie205, @travllingbunny. One born of a teaching moment in which I learn for the umpteenth time it's best to steer clear of Twitter.

#the 100 #bellarke #b/e #c/b/e #my post

268 notes · View notes

ombreecha · 7 years ago

Text

Fade to Black

Clerith Week 2018 Day Three: Aerith Lives Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Pairing: Clerith Summary: It’s as if nothing else is real but she has to at least tell him how she feels. The lifestream can tell her what to do but nothing will change. Will she make it through the night—should she stay or should she go?

She can’t—no, she shouldn’t—break free.

It’s as if nothing else is real but she has to at least tell him how she feels. The lifestream can tell her what to do but nothing with change nor will this pain end. Will she make it through the night—should she stay or should she go?

Her heart could hardly even care. Did it ever even know?

This is the promise land, of course, and now all she’ll ever know. This is the land of supreme happiness that she had sought but he’s not standing next to her hand-in-hand. It’s all enveloped in white, but she feels as if she’s been swallowed in the night. Forever on, and on she’s grown lonely and she’s circling among the flowers, and the plants within her hate—is she hurting? Is she sad? Does she even know?

It’s bitter and it’s dark. This feeling upon her heart. It’s nothing but pain and paralyzing agony.

Emotionally she’s slipping through the cracks as she seeks to figure out who she’s meant to be and who she was. This promise land is a dark eternity on this carousel of agony—Maybe it’s a dream? Maybe none of this is real?

If she makes another move she can never turn back—there’s her mother, and then there’s Zack. She’ll lose them to these feelings, and they’ll fade into the back. If she takes another step will there ever be a time when her heart will return to white?

All these people that she’s seen in the lifestream—she doubts they’ll understand.

That man is hurting deep, and he’s lost his way again. He wants to see her once again, but that doesn’t lessen the doubt that lingers keeping her rooted deep.

Uncertainty envelopes her mind. It keeps her from breaking free.

Will there be place for her when she returns? That’s the question at hand.

She’s done all that she’s been asked but she’s at point in this life where she wonders if there’s a place for those who are broken within the light. If she tries to change does that mean she has to let go of this man? That’s enough to crush her will and submerge her deeper in the black.

There’s tire from the pain, and all the misery inside. She only wants to live and be there by his side. There is nothing else she could want—nothing else her heart would ever know. If she gives in here and now and she turns her back on all of this will she come back from the night?

None of it would matter—even if she told him how she feels. She’s the one who summoned holy but the lifestream has no intention of giving her anything back—will that tomorrow ever come?

She’s forgotten how to tell—had she ever even known? —with this darkness in her heart and this selfishness unwilling to relent.

What if her heart began to mend? What if he swallowed all her pain? What if he saw her and felt her feelings and brought it all to an end?

It’s that lingering question.

Should she stay or should she go—should she throw it all a way for a man who’d understand? —the lifestream and all of them still just couldn’t understand.

He’s one man, and that’s all they’ll ever know. They don’t see how on, and on she’s left circling in these fields feeling her heart vanishing as his anguish pours down upon her. This time she’ll take a stand or there will be nothing of her left.

They tell her it’s just a dream—and that none of that is real. If she didn’t know any better than it would be just another thing her heart would never come to know.

She’s so tired of this hurting her—this pain of his enveloping her. Looking deep inside herself and only seeing fright because she could fall apart. If she’s crying in the wind, or if she’s crying in the night would they take sympathy upon her and let her come back to life? She has to make a change if she wants to find her way back into the light.

If she takes this next step everything will change and it all starts to fade to black. All this hatred in her eyes is just more fright in disguise.

She’s forgotten how to see. She’s forgotten if she can.

Will there ever be a way? Would her heart return to him?

There’s a price—she doesn’t know what it’ll be—but that doesn’t lessen her need. Is it something she can overcome?—and all at once, yet again she’s falling—crashing down no longer welcome and never allowed to return again. It’s her heart thrashing against her chest as she feels herself unable to stop this descend upon the earth, and now those feelings of hers ring out because this is how she’ll go never able to tell him how she feels.

Water drags her down and than it’s her lungs filled with oxygen pushing back. She’s back here once again—yes, she’s back here once again. She doesn’t recognize those pillars, nor the shattered ceiling she had gazed at way back when. This dress and this jacket are heavy with the water soaking them.

Could this be yet another dream? Could this be but one more thing that isn’t real? Could she have forgotten where this is?

If she opened up her eyes could she find her way back again?

Can someone tell her who she is? Can they tell her where she is? Can her heart finally mend? Maybe they were right—all of it had been a dream and none of this is real. The pain is still there and she feels as if she has to find him—but she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is as it all had faded into black.

Remember there’s no such thing as turning back. Maybe here there’s a place for those are broken in the light.

It’s that splash of water that has her jerking back and finding her footing beneath the waters surface. She can’t move well and it’s as she gazes at those blues that she questions once again—can someone tell her where she is?

He’s paler than a ghost and those fingers are outstretched in what she can only guess is hope. That tremble of his lip and the way the water dips off those fingers shows his hesitation to withdraw that hand.

“Can you tell me who you are?” her voice is worn and it’s shaky—it’s almost as if she doesn’t know how to use it, “Can you tell me who I am?”

Those fingers of his drop within the water trembling before her eyes. That look across his face looks eerily the same—from where or when she wouldn’t know. There’s uncertainty enveloping her at seeing the curve of his lips dip deeper. Those eyes of his are lost unable to accept—she can only remember she had to tell someone how she feels.

Is she hurting once again? Is she saddened once again? She doubts that her heart even knows because there’s simply nothing of her left. The price has been steep and even as he stands before her here and now she cannot even tell him—she doesn’t know who she is let alone this man.

All this misery inside—and then he’s approaching quicker unphased by the water. There’s a pain deep within his eyes—he’s hurting just the same. This is not a dream, and this is absolutely real. The way he presses her against him as if almost afraid she’ll disappear.

This is something her heart absolutely knows. There may be nothing of her left but this man whoever he is won’t let her go.

There’s a need to feel that fright but an inability to tell him no. Maybe he too is one who’s broken in the light.

It’s that press of his forehead against her own and that breathing fanning her face that tells her that he’s lost in paralyzing agony—she knows this feeling just the same. She may have broken free but it hadn’t lessened this anguish. She still remained part of the night and now without a memory to her name.

She doesn’t know this church or this man—there’s a familiarity here and even with all this uncertainty she cannot break herself from him. There’s a memory desperate to make itself known—it’s out of her hands and out of her grasp. It’s a murmur of his lips and the tears that drop that have her fingers grasping his—his name is Cloud and it came with a shudder of a breath.

She may be back here once again, but that doesn’t mean it’s all over. She is not who she was, and he is finally with her hand on his but that doesn’t mean a thing—had this been the lifestream’s plan?

What had she forgotten in the night? What had she lost in that fade from black to white?

Could this man maybe understand? Had tomorrow ever come?

“I have to tell someone how I feel.” it’s a whisper meant for him—this is but another one of those steps.

She’s crying here and now, and she’s crying in the wind. There’s no night for her to hide in because she’s back here alive once again. Nothing will ever be the same but it’s okay because she’s back. That dark eternity and carousel of agony is now nothing but the dream and a lingering portion of something real.

It’s a whisper meant for her—she thinks its her name. There’s no need to rush. She may never gain her memory back again but she cannot continue to linger deep in fright. That man is waiting for her—even as he sits right before her.

It’s those fingers brushing away her tears—this man understands. Her heart absolutely knows.

#clerith #clerithweek #ombree:fics #ombree:oneshot

10 notes · View notes

appreciateshiro · 8 years ago

Text

24 Sheith fics

Season 2 turned me from a casual Voltron fan into a complete Sheith disaster. The first two steps after that were:

1. Start a Shiro appreciation blog (and spend hours upon hours digging through and queueing up the gorgeous fanart) 2. Work through the AO3 tag and compile a list to rec to others who’re new or who need some extra motivation to fall into this fandom

Here’s the first batch of Sheith fics I’ve enjoyed thus far (it’s a long list, so make sure to view under the read more). Another set hopefully coming soon, as I have the time to continue reading.

Stargazer | Miaou Jones ( @miaoujones ) | 1,020 | Teen | 2016-09-05

Shiro is gazing out into the universe when Keith turns to him, and Keith can't tell whether Shiro is looking at the stars or the space between them, but he'd bet Shiro has always been a stargazer and always will be.

easy now, with my heart | @amillionsmiles | 1,137 | Gen | 2016-06-20

And for a fraction of a—second, tick, whatever it is up here in space—Shiro closes his eyes. His hand circles around Keith’s wrist lightly and then he squeezes, and, for the first time, Keith lets himself hope.

Moment Of | unalignedant ( @likeawarmdrink ) | 1,237 | Teen | 2016-06-29

It isn’t that Shiro is ashamed of his mechanical arm, exactly.

An Open Doorway | Miaou Jones | 1,344 | Gen | 2016-07-15

Keith is going to see Shiro now because he wants to, and not because anyone would call him a coward if they knew anything about it and knew Keith hadn't done it yet. And also not because Keith wouldn't be able to disagree if he were called a coward... No, Keith is definitely going to talk to Shiro because that's always been the plan when Shiro came back. in this desert land i know some rain must fall | amillionsmiles | 1,777 | Gen | 2016-09-09

Some people, like rain, are worth waiting for. // or: Keith leaves, and Keith returns.

til you set fire to my atmosphere | amillionsmiles | 2,062 | Teen | 2016-06-22

And it’s like the first punch Keith ever landed on him: quick and glancing, right at the ribs, out of left field and yet simultaneously a long time coming.

The Body Burns Away | Carrionflower | 2,534 | Gen | 2016-07-04

His arm was gone, replaced by inorganic machinery that clicked and whirred, but the physical memory of its loss remained burned into his nervous system. It translated as a haunting pain that spiked and ebbed but never fully receded, always constant like a needle digging into his brain.

Shiro's coming apart at the seams and Keith is the only one that can see it happening.

this corner of the universe | amillionsmiles | 2,656 | Teen | 2016-06-29 to 2016-06-30

“PDA in uniform can result in a demerit of fifty to a hundred points,” Shiro murmurs.

“Good thing we’re not in public, then,” Keith mutters hoarsely.

Frustration | fio ( @basukerotics ) | 2,687 | Mature | 2016-07-30

What they once had, they don't anymore. Keith still wants it.

Grow Fonder | fio | 2,826 | Gen | 2017-01-22

Really, after everything that's happened to the both of them, it's not actually that weird. But it still feels a bit hard to wrap his head around. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2, specifically episode 8.

good grief | @billionairevolleyboysclub | 2,973 | Mature | 2016-08-18

Shiro brings it up when he's got Keith pinned to the training mat, arm twisted behind his back and body pressed up along the line of his back. "Are you going to winter formal next week?" --- A quick fic on Garrison prom, drinking, and bad communication skills. Not necessarily in that order.

Too Young To Die | @themorninglark | 3,037 | Teen | 2016-07-11

Among the jagged, disparate shards that lie strewn across his recollections, it's startling how immediate some things feel. How, if he closes his eyes, it's like yesterday, for past the swathes of blurry images and broken memories, there's a time that lies untouched, untainted: the klaxon peal of Garrison bells, the earth-rending whoosh of mission launch - like the world's largest breath being sucked in - and, at the most unpredictable of times, the sound of Keith's footstep in a corridor.

Victorious | themorninglark | 3,223 | Teen | 2016-07-03

"When you come back - " says Keith, again, and then he can't finish the sentence for the enormity of it, so he stops short. Leaves it hanging like a promise, waiting to be fulfilled, and settles for reaching out to rest his hand on Shiro's shoulder instead. Lets the contact linger for as long as he can, etched like life lines and heart lines into his palm. Shiro nods. He doesn't break promises. Neither does Keith.

For the Damaged | @commodorecliche (x_carnivale_x) | 3,246 | Mature | 2016-06-26

You've held your head up You've fought the fight You bear the scars You've done your time Listen to me You've been lonely, too long

transgalactic, 1:30 AM | themorninglark | 3453 | Gen | 2016-08-23

"Replay transmission," Shiro murmurs. By the dim light of an Arusian constellation, one that's shaped like a different kind of scar, he hears him. "Hey, Shiro? Does this thing work?" In which Keith goes, and Shiro waits, for a change.

I get a shiver from broken hearts | cherryvanilla | 3,630 | Teen | 2016-09-16

The first time, Shiro pushed him away with a firm hand to the chest, Keith just barely tasting his lips. “We can’t,” he said, regret heavy in his voice.

The universe is such a lonely place (without you) | anditwasstinky (thewicked) ( @percybitchshelley ) | 3,804 | Teen | 2016-07-06

Keith comes out, and Lance decides it’s time to step up as a wingman.

The Color in the World | Miaou Jones | 4,576 | Explicit | 2016-08-07

The furrow of Keith's brow deepens. He thought maybe Shiro wouldn't answer him, wouldn't be able to, but his voice sounds steady, his breathing even. "What are you doing?" "Letting you look." Shiro's back rises and falls with the breath he takes now. "Letting you look as long as you want." "What about touching?" Keith moistens his lower lip so his words won't get stuck as they try to come out. "Is it okay to touch?"

See Me Running, From You, To You, From You | fio | 6,449 | Gen | 2017-01-05

Shiro is sixteen when his mother remarries and he meets his new step-brother. He already has a brother, so he thinks he knows what to expect, but Keith is nothing like Ryou and it's less like getting a new sibling and more like a roommate.

Caught in the Tide | @skalidra | 6,769 | Teen | 2016-12-27

Keith's starting a new job; night guard at a seaside research facility. During introduction, him and the other two new recruits are taken around and shown all the facility's creatures, including the only merman ever taken alive, who seems awfully friendly considering the warnings they're getting about how aggressive he is.

we're on the road to messy | cherryvanilla | 6,898 | Explicit | 2016-08-28

LATER, after Shiro’s found his way back to Keith yet unsure of how to move forward, he’ll be told how Keith spent countless hours holed up in Shiro’s old quarters that he’d picked the lock to get into, poring over blueprints and notes and digital images, unwilling to accept or admit defeat. NOW, Shiro hasn’t even found his way there yet.

the interior of a heart | billionairevolleyboysclub | 8,347 | Mature | 2016-08-04

He hears Shiro's voice through his earpiece frantically ordering him to -stay close Keith try to stay as close as you can- before the wormhole's gravity pushes upon his chest and makes his vision swim. His mind slowly goes blank as his body slumps forward. And Keith dreams. Keith remembers. --- Everything needs a creation story.

we were shotgun lovers | cherryvanilla | 8,890 | Explicit | 2016-10-18

Keith knows the deal. A lot of people his age who leave the system end up back in even at 18, 19, 20 just because they can't adjust. He doesn't want to be another statistic. His literal one bag was packed and ready to go day of his birthday.

At the Beginning | locketofyourhair | 13,179 | Explicit | 2016-12-19

It’s the first thing parents are supposed to teach their children: that the words mean nothing, that the marks don’t mean there is a match for you. The universe is cruel and cold, and plenty of people never meet the one whose writing is emblazoned on their skin. Keith doesn't believe in soulmates, no matter what his skin says. A soulmate AU where the words on your skin aren't always the first words you hear from your soulmate. Sometimes it takes time.

#shiro #voltron #sheith #Takashi Shirogane #fic recs #my fic recs #please let me know if I messed up any links #these take forever to put together #miaoujones #amillionsmiles #skalidra #percybitchshelley #commodorecliche #themorninglark #billionairevolleyboysclub #basukerotics #likeawarmdrink

224 notes · View notes

wonholes · 8 years ago

Photo

All In For You | Chapter Six (END)

Summary: The story, written in third-person, follows main character Shin Hoseok during a difficult time in his life. Struggling to stay alive, Hoseok lives his life from day-to-day, an outcast with a broken past and juvenile record. Basically living on the streets, his only true comfort comes from his friends who treat him as their leader. When his past comes back to haunt him in ways he can’t fully comprehend, only his closest friend has the capability to pull him back into reality.

Fandom: Monsta X

Pairing: Wonho/Minhyuk (Wonhyuk, Leatherpaws), M/M

Rating: EXPLICIT

Genre: Realistic Fiction, Drama, Romance

Characters: Wonho, Minhyuk, Shownu, Kihyun, Jooheon, Hyungwon, Changkyun

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, eventual explicit content

Exclaimer: Any writing submitted by myself does not reflect the real members of Monsta X or Starship Entertainment. Any dialog or actions written in this piece is based solely on fiction and does not infer that the members would act this way. This was created purposely for fan entertainment and is not factual.

I would like to personally thank @wonholypeach for being my beta reader for this fic and for designing the header image. She was basically my co-author in many ways, for not only helping me edit but for taking the time out of her day to create the header and for letting me go over ideas with her. We both spent several days working on this to make sure that everything was perfect, so speaking for the both of us, we hope that you enjoy it.

*Note: The images above were taken and edited by me. Please do not save or re-post without asking or crediting.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Chapter Six (END)

Minhyuk’s hair might have smelled like the mixture of honey, vanilla, and lavender, but his lips tasted vastly different. The complete opposite of Hoseok’s, which still had the aftertaste of nicotine and sweat. Minhyuk’s lips were thin but soft and Hoseok could feel the corners of his mouth curve upward into a smile while they kissed. He tasted like sweetness and mint--likely from gum that Minhyuk might have been chewing beforehand. He had been so distracted by attempting to decipher the taste of the blonde’s mouth that he didn’t notice Minhyuk’s hands wrap around his waist and trail up along his back.

Hoseok became lost in all of it. Minhyuk’s mouth, Minhyuk’s smell, Minhyuk’s hands roaming up and down his body. He could feel Minhyuk lean in closer to him as they kissed, his hand suddenly moving against his thigh--the sensation causing Hoseok to unnecessarily let out a small groan. Hoseok could feel the blonde smile against his lips and Hoseok pulled away, embarrassed.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled, looking down and trying to hide a shy smile.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Minhyuk replied, smirking. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, no,” Hoseok said, still embarrassed but trying not to show it.

Minhyuk replied by setting his hand under his hyung’s chin and lifting his head up to kiss him, the action itself causing Hoseok to let out another stifled groan.

“I didn’t know I did this to you, hyung,” Minhyuk teased.

“I don’t know what you do to me, Minhyuk,” Hoseok replied before pulling the blonde into a deeper kiss.

Hoseok didn’t know what Minhyuk was doing to him. His emotional feelings for him were one matter, but this--this was something else. His pulse had quickened and his heart was beating so loudly that he could practically hear it beating in his ears. The bedroom itself felt like it had become incredibly hot--the air around him thicker; the hair on his skin standing up straight. It was as if his senses were heightened and every little action that Minhyuk made sent a shiver down Hoseok’s spine.

Without even realizing it he had pulled the blonde into his lap, wrapping his arms around him as they kissed. He ran his hand through Minhyuk’s hair as he pulled away from his lips and began kissing his jawline and then his neck, biting and sucking his tan skin. Minhyuk moaned, the sound sending a shudder through Hoseok and into his groin, making him kiss him even more passionately. Hoseok gently tugged Minhyuk’s head back, his hand still wrapped in the blonde’s hair, sending intense kisses down his neck before sucking on his collarbone. As aroused as he was he did his best to be careful, not wanting to further harm Minhyuk’s injuries.

Minhyuk groaned, his hands wrapped around Hoseok and digging into him. Hoseok’s hands had worked their way up the back of Minhyuk’s shirt as he kissed him, feeling the younger boy’s skin prickle with goosebumps as Hoseok touched him. Hoseok finally pulled away from the crook of Minhyuk’s neck, now bruised and damp with saliva, before kissing him hard on the mouth. It practically knocked the breath out of Minhyuk, who moaned into the kiss and arched his back, grinding down into his hyung’s lap.

The sensation took Hoseok by surprise. Not because he’d never been intimate with someone before, but because this was different. This was Minhyuk. As taken aback as he was feeling the younger boy’s hips rocking down against his crotch, he cast the thought aside and hastily pulled away from the kiss before saying, “Take off your shirt.”

Minhyuk didn’t even hesitate. Though at first he blushed, the blonde did as he was told and removed his piece of clothing, tossing it on the floor behind them. Hoseok did the same, discarding his own garment and revealing his muscled flesh underneath. Hoseok couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed Minhyuk watching him, biting his bottom lip before meeting his hyung’s gaze. The older boy raised a brow quizzically, grinning cheesily before Minhyuk finally caught himself and looked away.

Hoseok chuckled and ran his fingers along Minhyuk’s bare skin, kissing his neck again as he let his hands roam his flesh. Although Minhyuk had a much smaller frame, more lean and lanky compared to the older, he was still quite fit. Hoseok trailed his fingers across Minhyuk’s chest and down his toned abdomen, licking and nipping at his skin. He cautiously avoided the bruises that were now purpling on Minhyuk’s side and set his hands on his hips, leaving welcomed, sensual marks on his skin as he kissed his neck.

“Mm, hyung,” Minhyuk cooed, pushing his hips back down against the older boy.

Hoseok couldn’t hold back a moan before kissing Minhyuk again, his nails digging into Minhyuk’s hips as he rocked down against him. A warmness had pooled in his groin and the fabric of his jeans were doing nothing to help the now aching erection that had formed beneath them. As the blonde rocked against him he only became more aroused, his lips now swollen from kissing Minhyuk so hastily. With his hands on Minhyuk’s hips he forced him to stop, biting his lip hesitantly after pulling away from their kiss.

“I want you,” Hoseok managed to say, his ears turning red after the remark.

“We don’t have to stop,” Minhyuk replied. He ran his hands over his hyung’s chest, lightly teasing his nipples before kissing his neck.

Hoseok let out a moan, his hands already practically down Minhyuk’s pants. Minhyuk continued to kiss him, being no less gentle to Hoseok’s neck as he nipped and sucked at his skin before running his tongue over Hoseok’s adam’s apple. Hoseok had managed to get his thumbs beneath the waistband of Minhyuk’s jeans but didn’t feel comfortable taking them off without asking first.

“Take them off, hyung,” Minhyuk whispered against Hoseok’s ear before teasingly sucking on his earlobe.

Hoseok didn’t need to be told twice--the sensation of Minhyuk’s breath and the dampness of his mouth against his ear caused him to let out another low moan. With Minhyuk still nipping at his ear he managed to unbutton the blonde’s jeans, ushering his hips up so that he could slide them down. As he pushed the younger boy’s jeans down to his knees he couldn’t stop his hands from grazing back up along Minhyuk’s warm thighs before resting on his ass. Teasingly, Hoseok gave him a squeeze, resulting in a groan from the blonde.

Hoseok lifted Minhyuk off of his lap with ease and maneuvered himself on top of him. He pulled Minhyuk’s jeans the rest of the way off and then tossed them to the floor before hovering back over him and kissing him hard on the mouth. Minhyuk moaned against him, his hands tangled in Hoseok’s dark hair as they kissed deeply; almost desperately. Hoseok pulled away from the kiss, daring to explore the rest of the blonde’s body as he kissed his way down his collarbone and chest, twirling light circles with his tongue against his stomach and nipping at his hips. Minhyuk was still in his boxer briefs, an obvious erection present beneath the fabric and Hoseok took the opportunity to lightly caress his lips over it. Minhyuk’s hips bucked up against him but Hoseok managed to still him with a hand on his hip, continuing to tease him.

Though Hoseok had never been intimate with a man before he thought he understood the basics of it. He’d watched enough porn to grasp the basic understandings of male intimacy, having been confused about his own sexuality for a number of years. He’d always been attracted to men just as much as he was attracted to women, but it wasn’t until he met Minhyuk that his feelings became more serious. Every little thing that Minhyuk did seemed to entice him more and more, but he’d been so nervous about societal views that he had suppressed his feelings to the best of his ability. Until now.

Minhyuk was writhing beneath him as Hoseok trailed his tongue over the cotton hiding the blonde’s aching erection, teasingly tugging at the waistband of his boxer briefs but not pulling them off.

“Hyung, please,” Minhyuk groaned, his back arching against Hoseok’s touch.

“Please, what?” Hoseok asked in a smirk, looking up at Minhyuk with his lips still against his crotch.

Minhyuk cursed, his toes curling and his hips desperately bucking up but Hoseok kept him still. Hoseok caught his eye as the younger boy looked down at him with heavy lids, looking drunk in arousal. “You know what,” he replied, his voice almost cracking.

“Mm, I don’t,” Hoseok replied as he pulled down Minhyuk’s boxer briefs, the blonde arching his hips so that Hoseok could take them off.

The cool air caused goosebumps to form on Minkyuk’s skin but it was Hoseok’s hand wrapping itself around his cock that caused him to moan and close his eyes, pressing his head back against the mattress underneath him. Hoseok licked his lips as he watched Minhyuk arch against his touch, relieved that his inexperience seemed to have a decent effect. Although he was still new to this he wanted nothing more than to please Minhyuk, forcing any hesitancy to the back of his mind.

As Hoseok stroked him he moved his head back down and ran his tongue against the tip of his cock before running his tongue down the shaft and back up again. Hearing Minhyuk gasp he took it as a good sign and took him into his mouth, lightly rubbing his tongue along the tip. Minhyuk moaned beneath him, a hand now wrapped in Hoseok’s hair as the elder took more of him into his mouth. Although different than anything Hoseok had tasted before he was addicted to it; his own arousal throbbing in his jeans as he began to bop his head up and down.

Sucking Minhyuk off was not an easy task but Hoseok took his time, much to the dismay of the blonde who let out an intensely audible moan when Hoseok managed to take him fully into his mouth. Hoseok almost choked as Minhyuk thrusted his hips against him but managed to keep going, teasingly bobbing his head at an agonizingly slow pace. He pulled his mouth all the way out, lightly trailing his tongue along the shaft before taking him back in again, repeating this several times over. Minhyuk roughly clutched a fistful of Hoseok’s hair, his breathing ragged.

“H-Hyung stop,” Minhyuk stammered, unable to suppress a moan. “Ah, please. I don’t think I’ll last much longer if you don’t.”

Hoseok pulled away, leaving a warm coat of saliva on Minhyuk’s cock. He licked his swollen lips and swallowed, a sharp salty taste lingering in his mouth. With a new hunger in his eyes he continued to stroke Minhyuk beneath him, having not let go of the base of his cock. Minhyuk groaned again, his blonde hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead; his face flushed and hot.

“I thought you said we didn’t have to stop?” Hoseok asked sarcastically, continuing to slowly stroke him.

“I know, but ah-” Minhyuk groaned, unable to get a full sentence out as Hoseok caressed his thumb over the tip of his cock, rubbing small circles against it. “I want you, hyung. Please.”

Minhyuk sat up, pulling Hoseok into a fierce, desperate kiss. The kiss was sloppy from how aroused they both were but neither noticed, too focused on relieving the need that had built up within them. When they finally pulled away Minhyuk abruptly unzipped Hoseok’s jeans and set a hand inside them, stroking him affectionately against his boxer briefs. Hoseok’s head fell back and he let out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering shut. For a moment he became lost in the sensation of Minhyuk touching him--feeling as if he could drown in it. The elder managed to open his eyes, licking his lips as he looked back at Minhyuk in brief concern.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. He would’ve blushed had his face not been so reddened already from arousal.

“You’ve never had sex before?” Minhyuk asked, smirking. He managed to slip his fingers through the hole in Hoseok’s boxer briefs and the immediate contact of the blonde’s hand against his skin caused Hoseok to shudder.

“Not with… a guy,” Hoseok gasped, his eyes briefly closing again.

If Hoseok’s eyes were open he would’ve been able to see the slight grin that played upon Minhyuk’s face, biting his bottom lip as he continued to stroke his hyung.

“I can teach you,” Minhyuk replied, leaning over to run his tongue against Hoseok’s bottom lip as he continued to stroke him.

Hoseok wanted nothing more than to take Minhyuk into his mouth and kiss him fiercely, but the protector in him made him think otherwise. “What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just shut up and kiss me, hyung,” Minhyuk replied, not waiting for an answer as he pushed his tongue into Hoseok’s mouth.

Hoseok moaned against him, holding the back of Minhyuk’s head as they kissed clumsily and full of need. The elder moved onto his knees and started to remove his pants as they kissed, forcing Minhyuk to withdraw his hand from its previous actions. Breaking from the kiss Hoseok pulled his jeans off and threw them aside, not bothering to look where they landed, before doing the same with his boxer briefs. In only a matter of seconds he was naked, pulling Minhyuk back into his lap to kiss him.

Minhyuk’s hand found its way back to Hoseok’s cock, a moan escaping from Hoseok’s throat as they kissed. The younger stroked him very slowly as Hoseok had done before, taking his time to caress the base before sliding his hand up along the shaft and teasing the tip with his thumb. Hoseok pulled away from the kiss and cursed, his head rolling to the side as Minhyuk continued.

“Do you want me?” Minhyuk asked, his lips against Hoseok’s ear. “Do you want me, hyung?”

“Ah, Minhyuk--” Hoseok moaned deeply, running his hands down the younger boy’s back before resting on his ass. “You have to tell me what to do.”

“Do you have any lube?” Minhyuk asked, nipping Hoseok’s ear. “Lube. Do you have any lube?”

“No, I don’t have anything like that,” Hoseok replied, gasping as Minhyuk gave him a light squeeze. Hoseok sighed--he didn’t have any condoms on him, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been intimate with somebody. It had been such a long time ago, and he never had the need to buy any sort of supplies, no matter what they were.

“We can do it the old fashioned way, then,” Minhyuk replied, removing his lips from Hoseok’s ear only to grab his hyung’s wrist instead. Hoseok was about to question him before the blonde took two of his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them thoroughly.

Hoseok attempted to suppress a moan, biting his bottom lip as he watched Minhyuk take his fingers into his mouth. Although he was sure it wouldn’t have felt as pleasurable as other things Minhyuk’s mouth might have been capable of doing, the sight in front of him was enough to make him weak. Minhyuk took his time to suck on Hoseok’s fingers, making sure they were thoroughly wet and coated with saliva before pulling away. Slowly he guided Hoseok’s wrist behind himself and towards his ass, and Hoseok understood what the younger was attempting to show him.

“Just one finger at a time,” Minhyuk stated, his face lightly flushing.

“Don’t worry,” Hoseok replied, kissing Minhyuk sweetly before doing what he was told.

Cautiously, Hoseok slid a finger inside Minhyuk’s entrance, pushing into him as slowly as possible. The blonde had set his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders, gripping them tightly as he straddled his elder’s lap. Hoseok paused for a few seconds before continuing to slide his finger all the way in, of which caused a groan to escape from the younger’s lips.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asked, concerned.

“I’m okay; keep going,” Minhyuk replied.

Hoseok bit his lip, unsure if he should stop and call the whole thing off, but a small nudge from Minhyuk ushered him to continue. Hoseok slid his finger out slowly before pushing it back in, continuing the process a few times before picking up the speed slightly.

“You can add another,” Minhyuk said after a few minutes.

Hoseok listened to him like an attentive student, slowly sliding his second, middle finger with the first. Carefully, he moved his fingers fully into Minhyuk, who let out a short gasp. Hoseok stopped, now knowing to wait a few moments before continuing as Minhyuk became adjusted to the sensation. The younger’s arms were now wrapped around Hoseok’s shoulders; his head leaning on the crook of his neck.

“Okay,” Minhyuk stated.

“Are you sure, Minhyuk?” Hoseok asked.

“Please, hyung. I want this,” Minhyuk replied.

Hoseok slowly slid his fingers out and back in again, continuing to do the same as he had done before. He carefully picked up speed, curling his fingers as he did so, trying to stretch Minhyuk to the best of his ability. After a few more minutes Minhyuk’s grip around Hoseok’s shoulders tightened and he let out a soft moan, his hips bouncing back against his hyung’s hand.

“There, do it there,” Minhyuk stammered, gasping lightly.

Hoseok pulled his fingers out and pushed back in again, attempting to move them to the same spot that had made Minhyuk so flustered. Sliding his fingers all the way in and twisting them carefully, he was able to brush against something that caused Minhyuk to let out a pleasurable moan.

“A-ah, hyung,” Minhyuk said in a sigh, his nails briefly digging into the flesh of his hyung’s back.

Hoseok bit his lip, the sounds now emitting from the blonde sending shudders straight down into his aching erection. Biting his lip he concentrated on Minhyuk and Minhyuk alone, continuing to scissor his fingers in the exact way that seemed to make the younger boy convulse in pleasure.

“Add another,” Minhyuk said in a groan.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked.

“Yes, you have to,” the younger replied.

Before following Minhyuk’s direction Hoseok carefully removed his fingers and spit into his hand, the act itself disgusting but both boys paid no mind. With the extra lubrication Hoseok slid two fingers back into the blonde’s entrance and slowly began to add a third, the immediate tightness causing Minhyuk’s body to tense.

Hoseok kissed Minhyuk’s shoulder as the blonde tightened his grip around him, letting out slow breaths. The elder waited a few moments before continuing, pushing his fingers in at a steady pace so that he wouldn’t hurt him. When he had finally managed to slide all three fingers fully inside he pulled them out carefully and continued the process, waiting to see if Minhyuk’s reaction would change.

When Minhyuk’s grip around Hoseok had loosened he began to curl his fingers as he pushed them inside, picking up the pace and trying to find that same spot he had before. Pushing them fully inside and curling them upwards caused Minhyuk’s breath to hitch in his throat and he moaned. Hoseok smirked and moved faster, brushing his fingers against the same spot inside him, the action receiving another audible moan from the blonde.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, slowly sliding his fingers out and back in again.

Minhyuk replied in another groan, now rocking his hips down into Hoseok’s hand. Hoseok curled his fingers again just to tease him, and Minhyuk practically screamed in pleasure.

Hoseok couldn’t take it anymore. Assuming that Minhyuk was prepped enough he pulled his fingers out and spit into his hand one last time, coating the saliva on his cock. Minhyuk let out a disappointed groan when Hoseok had done so, his lips pouting.

“Okay, are you ready?” Hoseok asked, still ever-so-concerned.

Minhyuk answered for him by slowly lowering himself on Hoseok’s cock, the sudden intrusion causing his body to yet again tense. Although Hoseok knew that it must have been painful Minhyuk didn’t stop, cautiously sliding himself further down on his hyung as Hoseok lightly kissed his neck. Hoseok wanted nothing more than to fuck the life out of Minhyuk--the tightness enveloping his aching erection made him see stars--but he managed to control himself

When Minhyuk had fully lowered himself down onto him, Hoseok was ready to scream but suppressed it with a low moan instead, his fingers digging into Minhyuk’s hips. The blonde seemed to quickly adjust as he let out a throaty moan when Hoseok’s cock was fully inside of him.

“Hyung, you feel good,” Minhyuk groaned, grinding his hips further down onto Hoseok.

Hoseok moaned and replied by rocking his hips up against him and pulled Minhyuk into a desperate kiss. Minhyuk’s tongue claimed Hoseok’s mouth as he started to move against him, slowly pulling himself off of Hoseok’s cock before sliding back down. Hoseok groaned into Minhyuk’s mouth, breaking away from the kiss in order to bury his face in Minhyuk’s shoulder as the blonde picked up the pace.

“Shit, Minhyuk,” Hoseok exclaimed, breathing hard. The sensation was completely different than anything he had previously felt before. Minhyuk felt so tight around him and Hoseok felt like he was ready to burst.

Minhyuk briefly looked down at Hoseok and practically grinned as he fucked him--a snarky smile on his lips. He had his arms wrapped around Hoseok’s shoulders; his hands in his hair as he started to fuck him harder. Hoseok’s own hips rocked upwards to meet with Minhyuk’s every time he slammed downwards, the sound of skin slapping against skin and hot, rapid breathing the only audible sounds coming from the room.

“Do I feel good, hyung?” Minhyuk asked, his breath against Hoseok’s ear.

Hoseok had to close his eyes and concentrate in order to stop himself from coming too soon from the remark. Instead he cursed and mumbled Minhyuk’s name, burying his head against Minhyuk’s shoulder. Knowing he was close he wrapped one hand around Minhyuk’s leaking erection and began to stroke him, making Minhyuk toss his head back and moan. As Minhyuk picked up the pace Hoseok pumped him faster, his other hand gripping Minhyuk’s hip as he slammed down onto him.

“A-ah, I’m close,” Minhyuk stammered, his movements now becoming clumsy.

Hoseok stroked him faster and fucked him harder, all too desperate to reach climax. He cursed again when he felt Minhyuk suddenly tighten around him as he came, moaning his hyung’s name as he spilled into Hoseok’s hand. Unable to hold it in any longer Hoseok quickly followed suit, thrusting up into Minhyuk one last time as he came, moaning uncontrollably.

Minhyuk slumped on top of Hoseok after his climax subsided, his arms still wrapped around Hoseok’s neck and his hands tangled in his hair. Hoseok let out a mild groan; sweat stinging his eyes when he finally opened them. He released his hand around Minhyuk’s cock, wiping the come off on the bed before wrapping his arm around Minhyuk’s waist and holding him close. Neither of the bothered to move for a few moments despite the sensitivity Hoseok was feeling as his cock was still buried in the younger boy.

Finally Minhyuk carefully lifted himself off of Hoseok and fell back on the mattress, letting out a small groan that was mixed with both pain and pleasure. Although Hoseok still felt like he was coming down he tentatively leaned over Minhyuk and pushed his bangs away from his forehead and lightly kissed his face.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asked, rubbing his thumb against Minhyuk’s cheek.

“Mm, more than okay,” Minhyuk replied in a small smile.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Of course not,” Minhyuk replied in a light laugh. “Why are you always like this, hyung?”

“I don’t know, because I like you, I guess,” Hoseok replied, gently laughing.

“Oh yeah?” Minhyuk teased.

Hoseok sighed and shook his head, smiling. “Don’t make fun of me, Minhyuk. You know I’m not good at expressing my feelings.”

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “Hyung?”

“What?” Hoseok asked.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

The end.

#monsta x #mxnetwork #monsta x fan fic #mx fan fic #wonho #minhyuk #wonho fan fic #minhyuk fan fic #wonho x minhyuk

8 notes · View notes

dreamingwhileawakeuniverse · 8 years ago

Text

Torture to those who have it coming

Author: Dreaming While Awake Universe Fandom: Hannibal (TV) Pairing: Dark Will x Reader Prompt: The reader is a famous person who knows Will lightly through social media, ignores him as a bet with a friend. Which leads to this unfortunate turn of events to envelop. Words: 2674 Warnings: torture, needles, syringes, knife, cutting, organs A/N: I originally wrote it with other characters for a friend then adapted it for my newly found obsession - Hannibal fandom. Tried experimenting with Dark Will's character as he is a fascinating mind capable of strong feelings and acting upon them.

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

It was a regular day, no different from any other. Except, in a way, it wasn’t. Not that Y/N knew that yet. She did not anticipate anything happening to her, not in reality, maybe in her dreams or thoughts, but never surpassing the barrier of dreamland. The surprise was still waiting to present itself. Wrapped in ribbon, with a bow on top. People often think of fate or consequences of their actions. Although not expecting judgement day to come, sometimes the anxiety and anticipation is there, lurking in the shadows, whispering, haunting. Now some people believe in karma, natural balance of things, but very often those actions denoting retribution are done by other people on their own will. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing per se, only that laws and human morality denies the pleasure of punishing those who wrong us.

No matter of the size of the act that feels like betrayal, the emotion’s intensity matters most and it is the most common initiator of action for vengeance, violence. The mind gets blinded with hate, needing something, anything to fill that void. Especially in the face of someone ignoring you, and when you know it is done on purpose, by choice, it infuriates you. Makes your blood boil with hatred. All other feelings and emotions become meaningless and you are left with the only decision at that moment. Act upon your instinct? Or keep it to yourself until it passes. But it never truly goes away, does it?

There was this man, William Graham. Still youthful and filled with energy. As of many of blooming adults, his emotions and importance of other people’s attention and acceptance were significant to him. It’s only natural for one to seek acknowledgment from those who seem to matter. In their own world, of course. But no matter what the reality might be, it hurts the same. The pain is the same, the influence… The exact same. Little does anyone know how much their actions can make people do certain things. How persuasive they can be without actually realizing it. And not to their own benefit, I’m afraid.

So there it was, a simple, ordinary day. Weather’s a bit dim, people are caught up in their own thoughts, having their own problems circling around, tightening their necks. And then there’s Y/N. Unsuspecting, living her life, having everything, as it seems, in its place. Life and career going smoothly, acceptance from people, appreciation from those who listen, truly listen to her work. It’s only natural to get lost in the comfort of our surroundings, not ever needing to think of ‘what ifs’. Playing life like it was given for granted. When in reality, every word, every little action sets off a butterfly effect.

Asleep for an afternoon nap, comfortable, unaware, unexpecting. That’s screen perfect moment to attack and assault someone, isn’t it? What’s more fun than seemingly set play? Setting a better one, perfect for the ideas and cravings fueled by pure anger. Quietly sneaking closer, being unnoticed, unheard, not alarming anyone. A sudden stab of a needle to the artery. A concoction to knock out a person… For a short period of time, that is. Possible struggle to drag the body, but with help? It’s easier. Careful to not be seen by anyone around, not causing suspicion. Taking the almost lifeless body to a specifically prepared space. A basement of torture of sorts. At least for this evening, for this occasion. Carefully decided details, equipment, tools. The person, still unsuspecting, strapped to the table, hands, feet cuffed, secured. Checked multiple times, no mistakes can be made. It wouldn’t be acceptable. There’s only one and single chance. The room has no windows, the walls are isolated from any sound leakage. Anything that happens inside, stays there. And whatever is happening outside the walls? Continues existing without any grasp of the nature of cruelty inside. If a photo was made of how this scene looked, one would think of a hospital, professionally prepared operation room, tools in place, sanitary, white and green. Except the surgery that is still to be done will not be of healing to the patient on the table. Rather, a divine intervention, saving the soul of the one taking action. Time was ticking away, the subject on the table started breathing quicker, out of sleep. Consciousness coming back. Eyes fluttering, trying hard to bring life to their owner. Mind still fuzzy, like after a nap that took too long, leaving us confused, uncertain where, when, or even, what are we.

Her eyes slowly coming back to functioning, taking in what’s around. And for the first time, the confusion is justified. Because nothing was recognisable. She had no fucking idea where she is or how she got there. When she noticed a familiar face. Still not able to put a name to it. Body aching, trapped. Fear flowing through her, blood rushing to her brain evoking fight-or-flight instinct. But no luck there, when you are strapped to a table, neither you can punch, nor run.

“Hello, Y/N.” A firm, calm voice echoed in the room.

Her eyes glued to the ones observing her, cold sweat drowning her body. Not sure if it would be a smart decision to initiate a conversation. Even if she tried, it felt like her tongue is stuck in her dry mouth. Possibly not able to emit a sound. She tried sitting up, getting off that table however he could. But there was no way. Hands above her head, feet… Securely tightened. Even her neck had its own belt holding her down. Should she scream for help? Unlikely such a well conducted environment meant a mind behind it would be stupid enough to make a grave error like allowing her yelps to reach anybody.

“Well well well… Feeling uncomfortable? Don’t worry… much.” A sinister tone in his voice, a tool of some sort in his hands. “I understand your state of confusion, fear of what’s to come. Be sure, nothing you imagine is as bad as what my mind can think of.” His eyes burning with emotion, confident posture, slowly walking towards her.

“Tell me, what are you most afraid of, Y/N?” He shifts his gaze to the ceiling, trying to imagine possible ways to induce terror to this girl in front of him. Never actually taking his attention away from her. That would be inconsiderate to deny her of his full focus.

“Not feeling like talking? Oh, wait, how rude of me.” He chuckles lowly. “My name is Will. Rings a bell? Or do you need reminding?” A slight smirk playing on his face. A scalpel in his grasp being lightly tapped onto the other hand.

Her eyes widen, still not certain who is she dealing with… when it hit her. It’s him. Y/N never thinks much when talking to people, heck, she has lots of friends and acquaintances. Some very close and dear to her, some less. A couple are for fun. Many many she ignores. Natural, being famous and well-known comes with a price of a certain amount of attention seeking fans and admirers. But he was different. It didn’t mean much, at first, she randomly picked people to talk to, converse over stuff that seemed intriguing. There were less to choose from anyway. And there he was, having stuff in common, being casual, chatting. Throughout years, he never stopped. Not that she would complain about it. No. But people are peculiar creatures. They get bored, they think of ways to make anything a game. What was there to lose? A virtual relation with someone? A small price to pay for experimenting with people. Until you mess with the wrong ones. It was merely a bet with her band mate. To keep checking, looking at everything he provided. To see how long would this man put effort to reach out, connect, talk. Well, everything has a price tag. Sometimes, even your own head might be served on a plate.

“It’s you.” That’s all her hoarse voice could manage to get out. Eyes flickering, mind trying to find a plan, any plan. Nothing. Empty.

A quiet laugh fills the room. “Nice to meet you too. It all could’ve been in better circumstances, but… you know, it pretty much is all on you, for what this had to come to.” His eyes rolled. “Okay, yeaah, maaaybe I could’ve spared the theatrical entrance and, well, all this.” He beckons around the room. “But you have to admit, it’s at the very least cool and freaking WORTH IT.” His last words loud, screeching, full of hurt.

Someone is rummaging in close perimeter. Someone else is in the room? How worse can this get. Y/N’s eyes wander around the room until she notices a small camera. Great. This will be recorded and kept. Though maybe it could become evidence after it’s done. Leverage to… Then a dark thought coursed through her brain. Is she getting out of this alive?

Will’s actions were swift, and well prepared. A knife exchanged the place of the scalpel in his hands. He moved quickly, the fabric covering her chest, abdomen… cut right in the middle. There’s no need to cover that flesh anymore. Not in here. After it was all shredded off, the knife dug into the skin of her neck, not stabbing, not even cutting, only held against the sweaty skin. The horror in her eyes was already paying off the tortures she incited to him throughout the years of silence.

“Not so tough and cool anymore, huh?” A spark in William’s eyes made it uncertain whether he was enjoying the therapeutic action of seeking vengeance or he was loving the torture on its own. “We’re just getting started, so don’t faint on me, I need your opinion on this.”

The mysterious someone in the room brought syringes full of different kinds of liquids. That person was wearing a mask and clear suit, careful to not leave any evidence of their presence here. “They’re all different, you won’t know their effect or what they are until you inject her with any of them. My personal concoctions of terror, if you may.” There was no need to see the face, the sly smirk could be heard in the voice.

“Wonderful.” That’s all Will had to say. And all Y/N was thinking was how did something so seemingly innocent and insignificant bring her to this nightmare.

He took away the knife from her hyperventilating body. Set it aside for now. “Eenie meenie miny moe… Ah, the blue one it is.” He took the syringe, carefully letting the air bubbles out.

His soft hand caressed her arm, tightly grabbing just below the wrist. The vein was very visible which only made the process easier. The needle was soon under Y/N's skin, pushing the burning liquid in her bloodstream. A growling scream echoed.

“So this one was the instant pain one, nice.” A proud face staring down to the girl. “Now you should be extremely sensitive to any touch, nib, or squeeze.”

With those words Will leaned down to peck her cheek, almost giving the feel of a gangster's kiss before the execution of the receiver. Or Judas’ deathly smooch. Without more foreplay he turns around to grab a soft material. Of all the choices, why something fluffy and sweet?

Y/N did not realise she did not have her clothes on anymore apart from her underwear. Will’s hands slowly lowered the cloth closer to the girl’s body. The slight touch, caressing her skin made her squirm and whine. “I told you anything will hurt. Imagine that was a knife cutting you.”

His right hand was suddenly placed around her neck. She suddenly was very aware of the nails digging into her skin. After tightening his grasp he let go and dragged his claws down along the middle causing the skin to redden and stay marked. A scream muffled by his other hand stuffing her mouth with that same cloth from before.

“This is getting a bit boring, pick a colour?” He lift up couple of syringes smiling like giving a child a choice of candies. Y/N's eyes nervously shift, a neon colour catching her gaze.

“Oh don’t worry, darling, it’s not radioactive, my friend just loves a touch of drama, I mean, not that I don’t, obviously, considering everything that you see around you.” His dark giggles send shivers down her spine. “But if you insist, we’ll try this one.”

In a blink of an eye he stabs the enormous needle right to her heart, not only setting the effect of the liquid, but also striking a shock-like reaction from the puncture alone. If she wasn’t strapped to the table, her seizure might’ve made her fall and crack her skull. Nevertheless, the fun shall carry on.

He slapped her face several times getting her mind back to her body. “Stay awake, baby, wouldn’t want you missing out.” A soft caring voice spoke coupled with a dark evil pair of eyes staring deep into her soul.

Y/N's body was uncontrollably shaking, it felt like the temperature suddenly fell tens of degrees below freezing. All she wanted was to curl up into a ball, find solace in her own embrace, get warmth. But that wasn’t an option she had.

William was busy at her tool station, picking and choosing with what to play next. It might be time for operation. He gave her anesthetics. “You will need this not to feel anything if I want you to not lose your consciousness from the agonizing pain.”

The next thing she saw was that same scalpel. She felt it gently touching her skin until she felt nothing anymore. She saw blood. Was it hers? Stupid question, who else’s could it have been? It must be hers. But she didn’t feel any pain. Her head a bit woozy, but she was fighting hard to not faint. Will unbelted Y/N’s neck for her to see what was being done to her body. Y/N lift up her head curious to know how many cuts he made. Her face froze. It wasn’t just cuts. Her abdomen was opened. Her insides presented to the outside world.

“Now let me see if you are truly missing one organ. It should have told you that what you were doing, or, well, more like not doing, was wrong. Do you have your heart, Y/N? Because I am already certain your brain doesn’t function as it should, because you didn’t realise how stupid your actions had been.” His hand reached in, maneuvering inside, feeling the warm working mechanism of the body. Soon enough he touched the rhythmical beating motor. The pace was increasing. At first, his touch was soft and mindful. Then the grasp was firm and there was a satisfaction written all over Will’s face.

“What a surprise, I found it, then, you should know now, what I want as a gift from you. It won’t cost you anything. Easy.”

Y/N’s breathing was erratic, her body being exposed was ready to shut down, she could hear her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. Two more seconds and she’s out cold. System’s shutdown. Darkness overtakes.

A sudden hitch of breath. A sting of mind, wakening like from a nightmare. Eyes open widely, mouth dry and sore. Y/N shivers hugging herself and rubbing her arms to regain warmth.

“It was all a dream, just a dream, calm down, Y/N…” She tries to lull herself.

Then an excruciating pain runs down the middle of her body. She curls up whining, almost crying for help. She lifts up her shirt to find stiches.

“Oh.my.fucking.god.” Her face left with horror, making her wish nothing more but a nightmare instead of the hellish reality she has to continue living with.

A lesson was taught, every action requires a reaction and no one is safe from the consequences of one’s foolishness.

#Dark Will x Reader #Hannibal fanfic #William Graham fanfic #William Graham x Reader #William Graham #Hannibal reader insert #Hannibal TV #Hannibal #Hannibal Lecter #Will Graham #Will Graham x Reader

2 notes · View notes