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dropintomanga · 2 years ago

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How to Find Great Manga to Read

We’re in an awesome time for manga reading in the West. Physical manga volumes are flying off the shelves in a time when digital reading is becoming more prevalent. TikTok videos featuring manga collections have become a thing. Anime’s now-uber mainstream popularity in geek culture has helped usher in this new golden age. Yet at the same time, a lot of mainstream manga attention is usually on shonen titles with hit anime adaptations - i.e. My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Chainsaw Man, Spy x Family, Jujutsu Kaisen, etc. There are outliners like Junji Ito material, but it can sometimes feel like the manga getting recognized by the Western media and comics critics are being highlighted a bit too much over titles full of wonderful stories that aren’t exactly “popular” in the public geek eye.

The manga world’s more than just action series that gets hearts pumping and horror gone viral. There’s many manga titles that not only provide escapism, but provide various perspectives that will make you feel you all kinds of emotions in ways that can make someone a better person. Plus, over time, your tastes and interests may expand and you might look for other manga titles that aren’t mainstream.

I recently read a guide on Psyche called “How to find great films to watch” and in the spirit of that guide (which was really good), I want to do something similar right here.

I will use the tips that the Psyche guide gives for finding great films and apply them for finding great manga. So here we go!

Tip #1 - Start with an open mind.

This sounds like the biggest deal-breaker because there are people who see manga and have many assumptions about it. Some will argue about reading it in a right-to-left format, some may argue about the sexual content that’s sometimes found in it and some will say that manga is only for teens (the biggest market in the West).

I will argue that manga is influenced from Western culture and comics and that some of the best comics in the entire world, past and present, are manga. Speaking of the past, there’s some older manga (titles like Banana Fish, Lone Wolf and Cub, Rose of Versailles, and Osamu Tezuka’s works come to mind) that hold up well today. The point is - don’t let preconceived notions get in the way of finding a manga that one day, might touch your heart in many ways.

Also, don’t be afraid of trying out other stuff that’s for teenagers (especially on the older teen side) because there are themes and topics that adults can relate to. Beastars is a great example of such a title as it explore societal hierarchies and divisions using anthropomorphic animals to represent human beings.

Tip #2 - Give manga a chance.

When you’re able to get a 1st volume of a manga, read it in a comfortable spot with good lighting. If it’s digital, definitely read on a tablet. Next, be sure to be patient with it. The first chapter of a series can be a bit rough. Hell, the 1st volume might suck and the story might turn out to be amazing a few volumes later. There will be cases where you will not be hooked right away. The best thing you can do is give a manga series maybe 2-3 volumes to see if this is the right thing for you to read. Every manga series of a decent length has some kind of introduction arc, so you can use this as a litmus test.

Tip #3 - Get some advice.

If you have friends who are bona-fide manga lovers, do not hesitate to talk to them. If you’re lucky to have a bookstore near you that sells manga, definitely ask them for advice on what to read. Manga librarians are also a great source of community on figuring out what manga to check out for those who want to check out libraries. The point is just be around manga connoisseurs as much as possible to get the most out of finding what’s great.

Also, manga publishers who show up at anime/comic book conventions are willing to help provide recommendations to fans who stop by their booths on what titles to check out. You will also get to meet other manga enthusiasts at conventions as well.

Tip #4 - Play to your strengths and interests.

If you have a favorite genre like shonen action manga, you can explore the history of shonen action manga titles out there. Viz’s Shonen Jump service has a wide category of older shonen action manga titles for fans who want to go beyond just the hit titles of today. If you’re interested in LGBTQ+ culture, you can explore titles like Boys Run the Riot, Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare, and My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness that cover that perspective. Have a fascination with works from independent creators? Check out manga from publishers like Denpa Books, Star Fruit Books and Glacier Bay Books. Let’s say you’re into world history - titles like Vinland Saga and Golden Kamuy are right up your alley.

It is safe to say that whatever it is you’re into, there’s definitely a manga for it.

Tip #5 - Follow your likes.

Once you manage to find a particular favorite manga, you can decide to learn more about the title itself and the thought process of the mangaka. You can discover what influences drove the mangaka to create what they created. This may lead you to find out similar titles just like your favorite one. Here’s an example I can give - let’s say you’re a fan of Inio Asano’s works and notice that they’re influenced by societal problems regarding youth in Japanese culture. You can do no wrong by checking out works from the likes of authors such as Shuzo Oshimi and Kengo Hanazawa, who have written stories about Japanese youth trying to find themselves in modern society.

Tip #6 - Reflect on how manga is made.

When you read enough manga, you start to pick up on how things are done. There’s so many elements that come into the manga-making process as the manga Bakuman will tell you. There’s the draft process, the number of assistants helping out, the long hours spent drawing, the isolation, the editors checking in to make sure the mangaka doesn’t go wild, etc. You can also think about the story of the title you’re reading and its narrative structure. If there was a huge plot twist that happens, there’s sometimes foreshadowing hints found in earlier volumes. You can think about what the mangaka did in making sure their narrative went according to their liking and read up on fan discussions that point these details out.

The more you read manga, the more you start to appreciate the process of how it happens.

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I think that’s all I can say about how to find great manga for now. Unfortunately, what I covered here is only just a bit of the whole manga reading picture. If you want to expand your manga horizons further, here’s some books I recommend. These books are available on Amazon and wherever books are sold.

The Art of Osamu Tezuka: The God of Manga by Helen McCarthy

Manga: The Complete Guide by Jason Thompson

Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga by Hirohiko Araki

The Citi Exhibition: Manga by Nicole Coolidge Rousmaniere and Matsuba Ryoko

The History of Hentai Manga: An Expressionist Examination of EroManga by Kimi Rito

By Your Side: The First 100 Years of Yuri Anime and Manga by Erica Friedman

1000 Years of Manga by Bridgitte Koyama-Richard

Reframing Disability in Manga by Yoshiko Okuyama

Comics and the Origins of Manga: A Revisionist History by Eike Exner

The Shonen Jump Guide to Making Manga by the Weekly Shonen Jump Editorial Department

You can check out the "Other Sites to Check Out” link on the side for more manga-related websites (I will be updating this with more manga-related links). I hope you enjoyed this guide and happy reading!

#manga #manga reading #arts #guide to reading manga #manga literacy #manga collecting #reading #literacy #visual literacy

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chorusfm · 1 month ago

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31 Years Later: How Nine Inch Nails’ ‘Broken’ Blurs the Line of Fiction and Reality for a Terrifying Experience

What was the first movie that disturbed you? The movie that got under your skin so bad its images haunted your nightmares. A movie where the mention of its title makes you shudder and cringe. A good movie, but you never want to watch it again. Being a huge horror fan, blood and gore doesn’t shock me much. My idea of cozy is curling up with my dog and watching a good horror movie, like The Exorcist. Very few movies scare or disturb me. But when I stumble upon a movie that truly shakes me or disgusts me, it’s something I never forget. For me, one of those movies is Nine Inch Nails’ Broken. Released in 1993 by Nine Inch Nails mastermind Trent Reznor and Coil’s Peter Christopherson, the movie is a companion piece to the 1992 Broken EP. The record was a response to Reznor’s then-label TVT and former boss Steve Gottlieb. After the success of 1989’s Pretty Hate Machine the label pressured Reznor to create a similar album. Wanting to re-create the success of that album, TVT refused to release anything else Reznor gave them. Not wanting to compromise his music, Reznor demanded his contract be terminated; his request was ignored. This didn’t stop Reznor. Instead, he recorded his next project in secret under various pseudonyms to avoid interference from the label. The music was markedly different from Reznor’s debut album. This was harsh, aggressive, ugly, and intense. There were no catchy songs and radio-friendly singles here. Reznor knew the label would hate it, but that was the point. Reznor and TVT finally reached an agreement in 1992 that allowed Nine Inch Nails to sign to a different label, while TVT still profited from a small number of sales. Freed from his contact, Reznor presented Broken to Interscope Records, who offered him a new record deal, complete artistic freedom, and his own record company: Nothing Records. Along with the EP, Reznor envisioned a short film centered around the songs and linking them together visually. He teamed up with Christopherson to make the Broken movie. Featuring the EP’s music videos, the movie is shot like an amateur snuff film where an unsuspecting victim is kidnapped, forced to watch the videos, tortured, and killed by a masked assailant. Christopherson intended the piece to be “a commentary on the existence of snuff movies and people’s obsession with them.” The movie was so violent, repulsive, and in poor taste, that Reznor changed his mind and decided against releasing it. But before shelving it, he shared the tape amongst his friends with certain parts edited out to identify the source of any leaks if they happened. It didn’t take long for poorly dubbed versions to be circulated in the underground scene. So, who leaked it? Reznor pins it on the Butthole Surfers’ Gibby Haynes. And so, the legend of the Broken movie was born. You didn’t know if it actually existed. It was this mysterious, elusive tape many people claimed to have seen, but few could find unless you stumbled upon it in an obscure video store. It only added to Nine Inch Nails’ mythos. Reznor was already infamous for recording in the house where the Tate-LaBianca murders took Place. He was making films as well? Stories about the tape’s existence would be passed throughout the music scene for years adding to the legend of the movie that was so despicable even Reznor refused to release it. When the internet exploded, it continued to be passed around via peer-to-peer networks. Still, many people hadn’t seen it until a strange incident in 2006. A DVD version of the film was uploaded onto The Pirate Bay by an unknown user called seed0. It even included the oft-missing “Help Me I’m In Hell” video. Many suspected Reznor was behind the leak considering the movie’s high quality and hints he dropped about its release. On his blog The Spiral, Reznor wrote “Happy Holidays! This one is a guilt-free download. (shhhh – I didn’t say that out loud). If you know what I’m talking… https://chorus.fm/features/31-years-later-how-nine-inch-nails-broken-blurs-the-line-of-fiction-and-reality-for-a-terrifying-experience/

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serpenttailedangel · 5 months ago

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I mean, the post doesn't come off as identity politicking to me? Unless you're looking at the identity group of alive people anyway. You could argue that guys was meant to complain about male authors, but those posts usually bluntly complain about men (or white men specifically) rather than a term that can be used more sex-neutrally, and she's complaining on behalf of modern authors rather than singling out a group like BIPOC women or whatever.

And like... those are two very impactful works in the genre that absolutely can be credited with much of its expansion and success, with a clear influence on many of the works that followed it. They've lasted for decades while a lot of the books that have had successful numbers since have gone on to be footnotes in discussion of the genre, if not forgotten altogether. There's a valid reason why stores would choose to prioritize very successful stories that are known to be well crafted and resonate with people to this day over stories that are more narrow in who they speak to or have shallower world building--which is most of them. Especially during a time when people have less spending money, and when they're trying to make it as a physical store selling physical books with fucking Amazon and its Kindle Unlimited service as competition. There's a logic to thinking readers who still like physical shopping and holding paper books are also going to appreciate classics.

But it is also a fair complaint for those currently living authors. B&N changed how they stock books a few years back to (shock and horror) prioritize titles that have a track record of already selling well. The overwhelming majority of any work in any medium is, well, mid, but there are always new gems that could be coming out. With the current state of the publishing industry and their increased dependence on the author to be an influencer and do their own marketing, a work with the power of Wheel of Time or Lord of the Rings might have come out in 2021 and languished in obscurity due to lack of interest by the publisher in properly advertising it, and now you can't find it on shelves because B&N is cutting back on what they stock to bank more on things that they already know will sell.

(Kind of like the criticism of Hollywood being overdependent on reboots and sequels of proven IP. Except book world tends to leave a little more control of those IP in author hands, so you get bi-annual releases of new collectors editions of popular big name series instead of forced sequels.)

Granted, word of mouth sales are not a good thing to hedge your success on and the odds of bookshelf discovery being what makes or breaks your career rather than getting good marketing, or the promotion of an influencer, or just being put on one of the display tables rather than a shelf is going to make more of a difference. But it still helps to actually have your book be physically available in a store if you're hoping for people to buy it.

Basically, while most of the people bemoaning the situation probably weren't going to be the next great author anyway and B&N is catering to their audience by making the popular books widely available, it is still a real and valid complaint that industry milking the success stories is overshadowing new author's chances to get more readers.

Also, while I haven't read them, Fonda Lee's books are pretty commonly placed on most big fantasy personalities' best contemporary fantasy lists. I couldn't say where her writing ranks quality-wise when placed against the genre classics, but I wouldn't dismiss her out of hand as just being jealous that she can't tell a good story. As I understand it, her books sell well. This all comes across more to me like an author who has seen success trying to raise awareness for how the current state of the book industry (the book selling side, in this case) can thwart the chances of discovery for newer authors in general, rather than complaining about how she personally was slighted, or how some identity group is being targeted.

TL;DR reads more like common griping about the state of the book world and not identity politics.

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seospicybin · 3 years ago

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PEACH.

Lee Know x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: Lee Know thinks that certain smell brings back certain memory, but what is it that reminds him of you? (3,5k words)

"I wonder what Minho like when he was a teenager," you said to him, kindly persuading him to let you see the bedroom he had occupied since childhood.

He awkwardly laughed, "He was a dork, end of the story," he gave the short answer and didn't budge on his seat.

You saw his childhood photos and some from his teen years, you remembered he was using glasses on his school-taken photos, and he got the intelligence to prove that he was a dork, and he is still one until now.

You nuzzled your head on the crook of his neck, "Minho, honey," You sweetly begged him, "please?" then planted a tender kiss on his cheek.

He closed his eyes feeling conflicted but the kiss made him change his mind almost instantly.

He stifled a nod, "okay," with a sheepish smile a contrast to your triumphant smile.

Since his parents were going out of town, the two of you got the house to yourself. He led you to the door of his bedroom, and it creaked as he swung it open.

"There's not much left in my room," he assured you and flipped the switch to turn on the light.

You didn't expect the room to be any different because you could almost picture what a teen boy's room would look like, you just didn't expect that there would be a lot of books in his room. The two shelves in his room filled with nothing but books, and there were a few stacks of it on his desk.

"That's," you pointed at another small stack of books piling on the windowsill, "a lot of books,"

He shrugged with such coy, "they're mostly textbooks from school years,"

You gave him a questioning look, you were sure that if you collected all of your textbooks from school, it wouldn't be this lot. He sat on the corner of the bed while you sauntered to one of the shelves, scanning the titles of the book by its spine.

"You're lying, they are not just textbooks," you said as you recognized some of them were books that you read for fun.

He laughed awkwardly, shy from being caught. You squatted down to observe another set of books on the bottom row, curious if you could find something interesting in there.

You found a collection of comics instead and pulled out one to take a closer look, "I never read horror comics before," you could tell the genre by the eerie graphic on the cover.

"Well, you know I love anything horror," he said, reclining on the bed with his hands propped behind him.

"Are they good?" You asked while reading the synopsis of the comic on the back cover.

He nodded, "You can take them if you want," he said, "to read them, and I'll only let you borrow and you have to give them back eventually," he quickly added.

You chuckled and put the comic back on the shelf, you looked around for more interesting books he owned, but you found books about computer engineering instead since it was his major in school.

"This is boring," you muttered and gave him a playful glare.

A thought crossed your mind, you glanced at him, "so..." you dragged your words and hovered to the windowsill and randomly flipped the book you got on your hand, "where did you stash your raunchy stuff?" You asked with eyebrows raised at him.

He gave you a sly smile, "you think my generation is still the kind who stashed that kind of stuff under our bed?"

You shrugged, "I mean, who knows?"

He laughed, "our country has the fastest internet connection, honey, and you can watch so many things on it. I'll teach you if you haven’t learned about it yet," he explained with a mocking tone.

You pursed your lips in pretense, "or maybe, you did hide something under your bed?"

You walked up to him and he stopped you from looking under the bed, "there's nothing there, honey," he convinced you.

He pulled you onto his lap, and you straddled him instead, throwing your hands around his neck.

He stared at you for quite sometimes that you began to feel flustered, "Is there something on my face?" You asked.

He shook his head, "you're so beautiful," he said as if it was something so obvious.

You felt giddy from his praise, "you make me feel beautiful," you said back, hand lazily scratching the nape of his neck.

With unwavering eyes, he said, "I could look into your eyes and never get tired of it," he leaned in close.

You closed your eyes thought he would kiss you on your lips, but his kisses landed on your closed eyelids.

You let out a low sigh, "Minho,"

"Yes?" He replied, he said it so low it almost like a whisper.

You weren’t exactly have anything to say to him, "I just wanted to call you," you answered with a grin.

He laughed at your blunt answer and kissed you along your jaw.

"My Minho," you sighed.

He likes the way you called his name like that, it felt like a validation that he didn't know he needed and that he is yours, and you seemed so glad to know that he belongs to you.

His mouth traced down your neck, he hummed as he spoiled himself with the scent of you, "smell so good," he murmured, he said it like it wasn't meant for you to hear.

You chuckled at the pleasant buzz he made as he hummed on your skin, "what do I smell like?" You asked out of the blue.

"You have a thing for distinct smell, and you said each smell brings back certain memories," you pulled your head back, "what smell reminds you of me?" You tipped your head to the side of the anticipation of his answer might be.

Your guess was something related to flowers because he always mentioned how your kiss reminded him of rose petals.

He put a strand of your hair behind your ear in an endearing way, "peach," he answered.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "I didn't expect that," you admitted.

He held your face with both hands, "you smell so sweet, but it's subtle, soft, and reminds me of the beginning of summer," he explained, speaking so slow so you catch on everything he tried to say.

"The hard one, or the soft one?" You asked again.

He softly smiled, "the hard one,"

You pouted.

"The hard one, but once you bite on it, it's soft and juicy," he further explained.

You felt a tingle inside, "am I a ripe one?"

He repressed his smile and started thinking, "I might have to figure that out now,"

"How?"

"By taking a bite of it," he replied, then sank his mouth on your neck and playfully bit on your neck.

You let out a low moan, your body couldn't deny the effect he made on you, goosebumps raised all over your body.

"How was it?" You asked him as he withdrew his head from you.

"You are just the ripe one,"

His answer made the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, and your heart filled to the brim by his affection towards you.

"What do I smell like?" He asked you back, and it took you by surprise since you couldn't really describe him into a certain smell.

"To be honest, I don't know," you honestly admitted.

He tangled his hand in your hand, "Just tell me one thing that describes me,"

"Everything!" You blurted out.

He burst out laughing, "just try to describe me into something, could be anything," he pleaded, "come on," he assured you.

You bite your lower lip and think of something that describes him best, there is billions of choice of words, and you are scared you wouldn't do him justice.

He wrapped his hands around your waist, "let's continue this conversation tomorrow then," he poked fun at the time-consuming question he asked you.

"Hurricane!" You exclaimed.

"Huh, what?" His eyes snapped at you.

"You're a hurricane!" You said again, and you were ready to receive mocking remarks from him.

"Why?" He simply asked for your explanation.

"Hurricane is a natural occurrence, it comes without force, it's just happened," you explained.

You rubbed his neck and continued speaking, "that's what I get from you, you are... a force to be reckoned with,"

Minho's eyes stared deeply into you, and it only drew you to stare back at him.

"You are so wild," you muttered, and he responded with a low chuckle, "so pure," your moved your hands down his arms, "so strong," you said as you trailed the veins on his forearms, "you drive me crazy," you finished with a wink.

A smile bloomed on his face, "a hurricane," he repeated, "I like it,"

You grimaced from embarrassment, "don’t make me do that kind of cringe again," you groaned and buried your head on his neck.

He patted your head, "why?"

"Cause it's embarrassing," you groaned onto his shoulder, hugging him like a fussy toddler.

"I told you, I like it," he assured you, softly ruffled your hair with his fingers.

You lifted your head, "just don't let me do that again,"

He laughed at your silly demand, "or what?"

"I'll do this," you brought your mouth to his ear then gently nibbled on his earlobe and earned low moans from him, because you knew it was his sensitive spot.

When your teeth let go of his earlobe, you saw that both of his ears turned red.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" He looked at you through his hooded eyes.

You softly giggled, "maybe," you teased him.

"Come, kiss me," he ordered.

You complied, pressing your mouth on his. The longer you kiss, the hungrier his kisses felt on you.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, taking your lower lip between his, "my honey," he sighed as he let go of your lip only to take your whole lips with his mouth at once.

"You are one ripe, juicy peach," he said against your lips, "and everybody wants a taste," he pecked on your lips then shook his head, "I won't let anyone have a taste,"

He pecked on your lips rather too brief that it felt like a feather brushing over your lips, "you're mine,"

With his eyes locked with yours, he asked you, "are you mine?"

"I am yours," you replied without a doubt.

He sighed in relief as if you would answer it differently, "that's right," he added and crashed his lips on yours again.

His hands glided down to the hem of your dress and slowly pulled it upward to get it off of you. You eventually helped him to get rid of it.

"My sweet, sweet peach," he murmured with hands trailing down your chest, your skin glows even under the dim of light.

He slid down the strap of your bra as his mouth placed kisses on your shoulder blade, you might as well take it off to do him a favor then toss the bra aside.

He didn't waste time to bury his head between your breasts, drinking in the natural scent of your body, "Can I live here?" He jokingly asked.

Your body shook from laughter and held his head close to your chest, "yes," you lightly answered.

He perked his head up, and you kissed him, so smoothly as if your lips melted with him.

"Let me take off your shirt," you offered.

He nodded and reclined to make a space for you to unbutton his shirt, and he stayed like that without taking his eyes off of you.

He got rid of the shirt at the end, and your eyes shot down to his chiseled abs, "you are magnificent,"

He took your hand and placed it on his chest, "touch me as much as you want," he said to you.

You bite your lower lip to contain your gleeful smiles, "I think I need a day or two to do that,"

He caught your chin with his thumb and index finger, "let me make a call real quick then,"

He brought your face close to his for another titillating kiss, the kiss that makes your lungs scream for oxygen.

"Minho," you called, "please be honest with me,"

"What is it?" His hands rubbed your back in a soothing pattern.

"Have you ever brought a girl home?" You asked, "I promise not to get jealous," you shortly added.

"You mean here? To this house?"

You nodded.

"No,"

"Never?"

He shook his head, "never,"

"No other girls had ever slept with you on this bed?" You asked again for confirmation.

He shook his head again, "No,"

A smile plastered on your face.

"You can be the first if you want to," he suggested with a sly grin on his face.

"That's exactly my point,"

He tightened his hold around you, "Great minds think alike," and gave you a sloppy kiss on your lips. He lifted you off of his lap and gently lay you down on the bed, making sure your head hits the pillow just right, then settled himself beside you on the single-sized bed.

There was no other choice but to huddle against each other due to the limited space.

He put a hand under your head, "small bed just for us," he remarked, rubbing your side with his free hand.

You caught the smell of him clung on the sheet, "I like that it smells like you,"

"And it's going to smell like you too," he said, lowering his mouth on yours again.

His hand slid down to your abdomen and slipped underneath your underwear. His fingers easily found your bundle of nerves and began softly circling on it.

"I wish we met when we were younger," you began speaking as his hand continuously pleasured your sex with his fingers.

"You wouldn't like me back then, I'm a dork remember?" He said, he pulled down your underwear, and you helped him take it off of you by lifting your knee and getting it off in one go.

He parted your legs open with his hand, one finger swiped down your wet slit.

"I don't care," you remarked and gasped when his fingers entered you without warning.

He laughed, "but we eventually met, and you're mine now," he kissed you, "that's all that matters,"

You smiled at his comforting words, felt contented and grateful to have him.

You moaned some more when his fingers curled inside you, intentionally hitting you on the spot.

He paid attention to every expression you made on your face, "you're so beautiful when you moan like that, honey," he praised.

"Minho, I'm close," you muttered, your toes curling and legs slightly trembling to what his stimulation did to you.

He pecked on your lips, "I know," he said, "let it go, honey,"

You accidentally clamped his hand between your legs, but he didn't slow his pumps as you climaxed.

"Minho, oh-" you let out broken moans.

"So beautiful," he cooed, when he pulled put he shoved his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it, "you taste so good, honey,"

You pulled him by his neck and kissed him, he shifted his body and hovered above you.

"Make love to me," you said to him, more like a command than a wish.

He smiled at you with such loving, "are we really doing it in my parent’s house?"

You chuckled and nodded, "yes,"

"That's another first," he said.

He excused himself to get off the bed to take off his jeans, you intently watched with careful eyes at the revelation of his hard-on sprung free from its confinement.

"Oh my, my," you exclaimed, biting your thumb to contain your exhilaration.

He got flustered that he hurriedly got back onto the bed, lowered himself on top of you.

You placed your hands flat on his chest, "are you really mine?" You asked in disbelief.

He is so perfect that you felt the need to ask for a reality check, thinking that maybe you made it all up in your head because he is simply too good to be true.

"Yes," he answered.

"That's right," you copied his response from earlier.

With your cunt already drenched from his previous stimuli, his cock easily slipped inside your hole in one careful push.

Once he fully bottomed out, you hooked your legs around his waist, "you feel so good inside me, Minho," as you cupped the side of your face with your hand.

"I know," he softly spoke, "because you feel good around me too,"

He started moving in steady motions and burying his head on your neck, kissing and nipping on the skin. It didn’t take long for your bodies to move in sync and moving in unison.

He lifted his head and looked deep into your eyes, "I want to breed you so much," he said with sincerity in his eyes.

You'd be lying if his words didn't make you feel giddy, but instead of replying, you gave him an open-mouthed kiss.

"But I don't think I'm ready to share you with our child yet," he uttered with a sly smile on his face.

Our child, those two words and the idea itself gave you a hopeful glimpse of what kind of life you would have together in the future, you closed your eyes feeling so blissed out with the thought.

"I want you just for myself," he added, his breath ghosting your face as he spoke.

You clenched harder around him, and that sent you both closer to your high, "Minho," you breathe out his name like a hopeless prayer.

He hummed, "I'm also close, honey," he acknowledged the plead in your words and the desperate need for a release.

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, and you dug your heels on his ass to launch him deeper into you.

You held his face still with your hands and looked into his eyes, "I love you, Minho,"

And that nudged him right into the overdrive, his movement became sloppy and thrusting relentlessly, almost rough even.

You came undone in no time from a few hard, intense thrusts from him. You cried out onto his shoulder with your nails clawing on his back while he kept the motion going to earn himself his own high.

He groaned out loud, hips jerking into you as he cum inside and painted your walls with his seed.

He kissed you down rather hastily, "I love you so much," he finally said back, "I love you so," he paused to peck you on the lips, "so, so much," he finished with a long, lingering kiss on your lips that got you dizzy and fuzzy at the same time.

He took your hand and put it around his neck, he likes having you scratching the back of his neck as he rested his head on your chest and listening on to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

It was calming and lovely until there was a sudden loud thud in the room that sent you shrieking in shock, your hands scrambled to cover your bare chest.

Minho got up from your chest and looked around, found one of his cats accidentally nudged the stack of a book from the windowsill and sent it fell down the floor.

The orange-haired cat jumped onto the desk and began to lick his paw.

You sighed in relief, "I almost got a heart attack,"

Minho leaned down and listened to the thumping of your heartbeat, "Your heart beating so fast," he said to you, he kissed the skin that caged your heart, "be steady, please," he talked to it.

You giggled as you witnessed his adorable doing, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, "Do you think your cat watching us, you know, having sex?" You grimaced.

Minho glanced at the cat that lay on its side, its tail swiped from side to side, "Soonie, did you happen to watch us having sex?" He asked the oldest of the three cats.

And to your surprise, as if the cat understood, he mewled in response.

"Soonie said yes," Minho translated.

You covered your eyes with your hands, "Oh my God, that's embarrassing,"

Minho laughed, "Well, that's another first,"

Soonie purred and leaped onto the floor, you heard the low shrill of its meows when it jumped up onto the bed.

"Oh," you exclaimed as the cat walked the side of your body then nestled next to your head on the pillow, and you gasped in awe, "I think Soonie likes me," you said to him.

A thin smile formed on Minho's face, "I don't like sharing her with anyone," he talked to the cat and caressed it, "but I think I can share her with you, Soonie,"

The cat already dozed off the second it nuzzled around your neck, and you smiled because you never felt this kind of comfort before.

"I belong to Soonie now," you teased, hand stroking the sleeping cat.

He buried his head on the other side of your neck, "no," he groaned, "you're mine, all mine," and repeatedly said so until both of you fell asleep on the small bed.

Support my blog by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!

taglist: @aleskz478 (this is your request, I hope you like it!)

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notquitecanon · 3 years ago

Text

Dust and Motor Oil // Ray Stantz x Reader

A little meet cute for the heart of the ghost busters

Ray Stantz x Paranormal romance novelist! reader

but shhh he doesn't know that and yes it is going to be a problem bc I live for the drama. ten bucks you don't know what kinda drama it's gonna cause

tw: mentions of adult romance novel contents, the word v*mit is used like twice but not talking about actually being sick

Being a paranormal romance writer was hard. Being a paranormal romance novelist in the 80’s without access to the internet was harder. So you considered a stroke of luck you stumbled across an occult book shop not even three blocks from your apartment, only one from your favorite coffee shop. Your editor had provided you a list of occult and oddity shops in the area when complaints of inadequate literature pushed back your manuscript for the third time. Each of them offered unique items, yet turned their noses up when you divulged the purpose of your research.

So after one too many shots of espresso, the second strongest liquid courage, and the resolve to keep your career to yourself, you made the block in jittery, record time, finding yourself in front of “Ray’s Occult” with your face reflected between the blue neon of the window sign.

The door tinkled a little bell as you pushed it open, alerting a seemingly empty store. You weren’t bothered by that though, it was probably for the best that no one saw how your jaw dropped or eyes bugged. The sheer volume of books was mindblowing in such a tiny space- old tomes overflowing from every semiflat surface, cracked spines crammed to capacity in the shelves, books stacked in corners, cluttering end tables…

The research had always been the hardest part of your chosen genre- not that your publisher or most of your readers were striving for accuracy between the bodice ripping, but it mattered to you, leaving many projects abandoned due to lack of information. Looking around again, you had a sneaking suspicion you had hit the gold mine.

Aside from the general vastness of the collection, the little store had a welcoming atmosphere- or at least compared to other occult and witchy stores you had tried to frequent. You felt giddy, the smell of old books flooding your senses like a drug after another deep inhale. Along with the ever comforting old book scent that every reader and author alike loved, the air had a not quite herbal not quite incense fragrance, just strong enough to be noticed but not strong enough to give you a headache, it fused with the lingering scent of tobacco. Any space not occupied by shelves or stacks, well loved, plush chairs had been squeezed in so readers could disappear into their chosen reading material. The clerks counter was a glass show case, featuring all sorts of odds, ends, and curios, and the surface was covered in open books and little trinkets. As you passed by the counter, low, haphazardly hanging baubles, chimes, and bells threatened to graze the top of you hair if you were just any taller. You reached up giving a bronze and glass shard mobile an affectioned graze, watching how it reflected the warm overhead lights and chinked noise into the otherwise silent store.

Just being here made your fingers itch, made you want to be writing. To satiate your digits, you moved on to the shelves, dragging appreciative hands along the spines to smudge dust away from the titles. Somehow the dust collected there was endearing rather than dissuading. Titles like “Necronomicon”, “The Weiser Book of Horror and the Occult”, “The Compendium of Transcendental Doctrine and Experiment”, “Occult Experiences - 1906 Edition”, and “Creatures, Entities, and Deities of Western Russia, ancient and psuedomodern folk tales.” all captivated your mind, wondering what new ideas these books could spark.

“Hello? Is someone here?” A bright voice called, jerking you out of your reverent exploring, startling you so much you flinched away. This, in combination with the close quarters of the shelves, resulted in your shoulder knocking an already shifty stack of books off their home on the nearest end shelve. Your yelp of surprise was strangled as you made a mad dive to prevent the lamp from falling over as well, in response the voice changed, less bright now, almost a stern warning, like an unamused teacher, “Is… something here?”

You forcibly cleared the dust and pesky frog from your throat, setting the lamp upright before dropping to the floor to get a head start on cleaning up your mess, “No, No! A someone! A clumsy someone, but a someone nonetheless.”

Using your flustered rambling, the new comer wound his way through the hedgemaze of shelves. You could hear his heavy footfalls as you at least got the books all closed before he rounded the corner- partially for the assumed employ not to shout at you, but also as an author your heart clenched at some of the unseemly angles the books that were probably older than you splayed open at, honestly a crime, “I’m really sorry about this, I guess clumsy and jmpy aren’t a really good combination in a cluttered book store. Not that the store is cluttered. Well, I guess it is by definition a little cluttered, but not in a messy, gross way, ya know? More in a homey, ancient library kind of way. Good clutter. I’m pro clutter.”

You were still rambling as you stood, swiveling to orient yourself towards the man. Despite knowing you were basically vomitting words, not all of them good, in fact the ones that weren’t utter nonsense were borderline insults, you couldn't stop yourself, avoiding meeting this man’s eyes like a scolded child. Just great, typical even, you had hit the metaphorical gold mine of paranormal research and now you could never show your face here again.

When you finally had rounded your way back around to apologizing again, you forced yourself to raise your eyes to meet the presumed employee. What you were met with finally stunned you to silence- though you weren’t sure if your sudden muteness made you seem more or less insane. Regardless, another bonus for the occult book shop was the man in front of you.

Easily six feet, maybe taller, so you had to crane your neck up to meet his eyes- especially with how close he had to stand due to cramped quarters between the stacks. He wore khaki slacks, just tight enough to stoke your imagination as they clung to his thighs. Under a very soft looking sweater vest cardigan was a button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing strong, muscled forearms and manly hands that were smudged with ink, or maybe grease. Around his neck was a pair of glasses, connected to a neat chain, making you absentmindedly wonder if he had a habit of misplacing them. Above all, he had a kind face, familiar somehow, even when looking at you with just as surprised eyes. You gasped a little bit in welcome surprise to find hetero-chromic eyes, only noticeable due to proximity. It was silent for a moment until he seemed to realize that if you both kept staring at each other, nothing would ever happen- just two shocked fools gazing at each other in different types of awe.

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” He muttered, mostly to himself before clearing his throat, chuckling a bit as he recalled your word vomit, “No, No, I’m well aware of how cluttered it is in here. My fault for ordering inventory before measuring the space. I hope I didn’t scare you too bad.”

Then he smiled at you. Not a polite tug of his lips, no a real smile. One of those warm, genuine smiles that put you at ease just seeing it, that were so few and far between in New York these days that you almost subconsciously relaxed. Somehow boyish and beyond his years at the same time as he outstretched his dirty hands, “I’m Dr. Raymond Stantz.”

With a smile like that, you didn’t know what had come over you, it was almost embarrassing how enamored he had you with so few words. You didn’t think twice about taking his hand in yours, despite the ink, dirt, grease or what ever it was he had gotten into. His hands were big, and warm, dwarfing yours as he gave it an excited shake. Despite the callouses, they weren’t rough. Finally, you managed a blink which allowed you to drop your gaze to your hand in his, his eyes followed yours before gasping.

“Oh no, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how greasy my hands were!” He apologized cheeks going rosy, dropping your hand as though that would decontaminate them, holding his palms up to show you just how greasy they were. So it was mechanical grease- another thing that should have irritated you was marked into the endearing category.

Not meaning to, you frowned as the sudden breach in contact. You hadn’t been bothered until you looked down and saw how the dust had collected now into grime both on his and your hand. Now it was your turn to grimace at your freshly noticed social faux paux- your grandmothers voice echoing in your mind, dirty hands aren’t meant for shaking.

“Well, I guess we’re even, I didn’t realize mine were so dusty.” Ray looked down at the dust clinging to the smudges on his fingers. Both of you waited for the other to be frustrated or snap, but it never happened, instead he cracked a smile, bright eyes meeting yours with such gleeful glint that made you giggle. Then, you both laughed like you knew each other for years, both of you holding your hands out so as not to contaminate anything else. Shaking his head, the man reached into his back pocket and produced an oil stained work towel, offering it to you first like a true gentleman.

You took the rag with a quiet thanks, making quick work of both hands before passing it back to him, voicing your mild epiphany, “I guess that makes you the Ray, of Ray’s Occult?”

“Guilty.” Dr. Stantz gave a tightlipped grin of faux guilt, holding his oil stained hands up as if he’d been caught, “The one and the same. I never caught your name thought?”

“Oh, sorry!” You shook your head, as if that would kick start your brain into acting like a real human again before offering your name like an offhanded comment. Ray wiped his hands with that happy grin as if your name was the highlight of his day.

“Well, Welcome to Ray’s Occult, (Y/N), premier destination for all your supernatural needs, where I swear I dust once a week.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as he stopped down to pick up a couple of books that hadn’t been rearranged yet. You joined him on the ground, sorting out books as he shook his head, “I mean it, I swear something in here is possessed by some dust mongering spirit. Class two, at least!”

Your grin only grew as you met his eyes teasingly, “A plague to all those with sensitive sinuses.”

With two sets of hands, it was quick work to return the stack of books to their previously precariously stacked glory. Ray seemed appeased, hands on his hips after he had helped you up again, “So, what brings you in today?”

For the first time, you hesitated with your words. You weren’t exactly ashamed of your work- you paid your rent by doing something you and countless others enjoyed. No shame in that. And yet. Not everyone found your work to be exactly, respectable. It was the main reason you had finally made the move to New York City and started printing under a pen name, the very reason that occult book stores across Manhattan had turned their noses up at you. And Ray was just waiting for an answer with that smile… This very kind, very funny, and very very cute nook store owner didn’t need to know your interest lied in research for your historical and or paranormal-fantasy bodice rippers. Sometimes it was just easier to not get into it. Still, it was hard to imagine lying to the man, despite just meeting him it felt wrong, so you only lied a little bit, clearing your throat to mask your hesitance, “Oohh, just casual curiosity. I’d love some light research on the supernatural.”

Ray nodded, either not noticing or not caring for your obfuscated answer, “Anything in particular, or dealers choice?”

You ignored the laundry list of of specifics you needed to research more, instead settling on, “Uhm, I guess special interest in paranormal creatures-ahem- corporeal more so than not.”

For your line of work, the more corporeal bodies the better.

Still you couldn’t help but be curious about Ray’s choice in literature, so you tacked on, “But, I’d love to see what the dealer has to offer too.”

Ray’s cheeks went rosy again as he cleared his throat, motioning for you to follow him, “Now, I specialize in more noncorporeal entities, but I have a good bit of literature more your style. I definitely wouldn’t recommend them for bedtime reading but….”

“I always suggest starting with Tobin’s Spirit guide, good citiing for any paranormal research, really.” He rounded the first corner, approaching the shelf with several of the same book packed together, before adding sourly, “This is an older edition, but the latest isn’t much different save for the unfortunate publisher bias on new research to sell more copies.”

Pulling the burgundy bound book, his scowl was gone as soon as it came moving to the next shelf, rattling off a couple titles with dismissing shakes of his head before finally landing on one he approved of, “Neiman’s Bestiary of Western Europe sounds about like what your looking for, highly recommended.”

He pulled it out of the shelf, leaving such a large space that the surrounding books sagged almost in relief to have newfound freedom. He thunked it on top of Tobin’s, not even offering to have you carry them as he rounded another corner, “I don’t how you feel about Fae lore, but ‘An Encylopedia of Fairies’ is eye opening. Makes you think about Tinkerbell a little harder.”

He gave an overdramatic shake of his head as if to emphasize his point in the terrors the book held. It made you want to crack it open then and there just to know what he was talking about. Seeing your wide eyes he smiled and added it to the pile, pulling the book of the Western Russian folklore where you had left dust free swipe along the spine. With a mischievous wink, he wordlessly added it to the growing pile cradled in his arms.

“Let’s see, dealers choice…” He hummed, scratching his head as he thought before his eyes lit up, bounding up to the counter. He easily lugged the pile of varying sizes and yet all heavy books- easily at least twenty pounds- onto the counter with enough of a thunk that you feared the glass counter might shatter under its weight. He seemed unaffected by the racket as he sifted through the open materials on his makeshift desk, before emerging victoriously with a laminated folder. With a wide smile he flipped through the pages as if to prove he had found it, the pages were rife with sticky notes, highlighted portions, and penciled in notes in the margins, “Aha! ‘Immigrating Entities’- it’s a mindblowing article discussing the theory that entities and creatures can follow people groups when they migrate. Written by one of my former college professors, truly fascinating read.”

You noticed that despite his excitable nature, when he got truly riled up he started talking even faster, shaking the folder in barely concealed exhilaration. Ray cleared his throat, forcing himself to appear a bit more calm, “Sorry, just fascinating stuff! Anything piquing you interest?”

“No, don’t apologize!” You shook your head with an assuring smile, stepping closer to the counter so you could lean in closer. Taking in the stack he had amassed for you, you didn’t know if you would make it home without getting lost in ones pages. It was clear he was passionate about the subject, even more than you were, and happy to help, you couldn’t help but smile back, truthfully answering, “All of it, actually.”

Ray nodded sagely, “I know the feeling.”

Minutes later, Ray had totalled you up- Tobin’s and the Bestiary to keep in your personal collection, Western Russian Folklore and Encyclopedia of Fairies on trial basis, and Immigrating Entities on loan (this was after a five minute debate on your insistence you couldn’t take his obviously well loved and marked up copy, and his insistence that he had it memorized after reading it so many time, you had compromised only after you had promised to return it with absolutely not even a bent page). Dr. Stantz even tacked on a 10% ‘first time in’ discount that he randomly remembered after getting lost in thought (totally not staring at you), and was kind enough to round up a cardboard box for you after the paper sacks he offered shredded against the weight.

“Got it?” He asked cautiously as you hefted the box off the counter. It was akin to carrying a chubby five year old, but you managed.

“I can handle myself.” You winked as he came around the counter to open the door for you, tall enough that he could open the door and you could just walk under his arm.

He cleared his throat right as you crossed the threshold, stopping you in your tracks just as close as the two of you had been in the shelves earlier. This time when he smiled it was softer, “I hope to see you again…”

He trailed off eyes widening as your cheeks heated, quickly adding on, “In the store, I mean, I still have plenty to show you if you’re interest.”

Oh you were interested.

“I’m sure I’ll be back soon, Dr. Stantz.” You assured him, hefting the box a little higher on your chest, “I’m a fast reader.”

“Call me Ray, please.” Ray implored, somehow making such a mundane request seem earnest and intimate. You swallowed thickly, looking up at him as you nodded. He nodded in response to your nodding before adding, “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

“Thanks again, Ray.”

His grin was bright enough to power the city as you turned away, marching your way back to your apartment. And while you didn’t have that 1000 watt grin, you smile, a bit more subdued, was wistful. The writer in you could almost envision how these events would look on page, see the pages turning to a new chapter, new characters, new possibilities.

And you loved a good story.

is this planned to have more than one part? yes

will I never touch it again if it doesn't get at least a dozen likes?? also yes this is a threat pls give me validation

#dr. ray stantz x reader #ray stantz x reader #egon spengler x reader #don’t mind me writing overly self indulgent ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader

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plus-size-reader · 3 years ago

Text

Weird

Stu Macher x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2755 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Stu developing a little bit of a thing for Randy’s coworker at the video store

Just a weird little thing my brain cooked up, with not too much intricate plot to speak of.

—————————————————————————————————

He’d been staring at you for an hour.

If he didn’t knock it off soon, Stu was sure that it would start to get creepy but he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t like he could just walk right up to you and start a conversation.

You probably wouldn’t even recognize him.

Besides, Stu wasn’t a super good conversationalist to begin with. He always got tongue tied and made inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times. There was no telling how it would go, especially with you.

Stu’d had his eye on you all this time, and while he had never had trouble making friends, it was different with you.

All he could do was walk around the aisles of the video store, doing his best to look busy as he browsed the video selection.

He had always liked movies, and wasted away plenty of night watching tapes with his friends but as of late, the movies had little to nothing to do with his frequent visits to the Woodsboro rental, and everything to do with you.

At first, it was innocent.

One night while he and Billy were looking for a couple blockbusters to occupy their time, he noticed you behind the counter where he typically would have found Randy.

It should have ended there, but because Stu was Stu, of course it didn’t.

The next day at school, he had given his strangest friend the third degree about who the hottie in his place was and found out that you were new.

Randy didn’t know too much about you, other than the fact that you chewed gum the entire time you were on the floor and that your favorite movie was Frankenstein.

It was hardly enough to get to know a person, but it seemed to appease the man enough to end the barrage of questions.

At least for a while.

It wasn’t until he came in six or seven times without his partner in crime that Randy started to get suspicious over just what Stu thought he was doing here.

After all, he had a girlfriend, a very hot girlfriend, who he could be spending time with instead of stalking you at work.

Not that he actually went out of his way to ask the blonde right away.

While his being there so frequently definitely looked weird, there were plenty of explanations for what Stu could have been doing, and in all honesty, he kind of freaked Randy out.

Besides, if all he wanted to do was look through the VHS tapes, there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. Billy and Stu were both good customers and as long as they kept renting movies, it was all good.

If you just so happened to be there when he came in, that was just how it was.

After all, you worked there so you were bound to be there pretty often. That meant that, coupled with the amount of time Stu and Billy spent there looking for good stuff to watch, you were bound to run into them quite a bit.

There were a lot of regulars.

Woodsboro was a relatively small town and you got familiar with people’s faces, especially those you saw all the time, but that didn’t mean you really knew them. You had begun to recognize Randy’s friends, but they were little more than that to you.

Maybe that was why you seemed to be so oblivious to Stu’s constant attention on you. To you, he was just another customer, one that you were even less familiar with then most of the others because Randy handled all of their business.

You very rarely even interacted with them at all.

Not to mention that you were extra busy tonight with the murders and all that. The residents of this town had taken that terrible act as inspiration to have their own blood-soaked horror movie nights in the comfort of their own homes.

There were so many people here tonight that you weren't even sure you would have had time to notice any individual person at all.

You may not have had time, but Randy certainly did and he’d had enough.

Not only was what Stu was doing inappropriate because he had a girlfriend, but it just made Randy feel kind of weird. You were a really cool person, sometimes Stu would have known if he ever bothered to say hello to you, and you didn’t deserve to be gawked at while you were trying to work.

“You’ve been looking at that for a while, you need help deciding?” Randy asked, less than subtly catching Stu in the middle of his ogling, not that the latter seemed to care in the least. Randy worked with you all the time, surely he saw what Stu saw.

You were hot.

That wasn’t his fault.

All he did was notice.

“Nah man, I’m good” he hummed, even going as far as to wink at Randy, making it painfully obvious that he knew exactly what he knew. There was nothing wrong with checking out a cute girl, and if anything, he assumed that Randy was just jealous.

After all, Stu was sure that he hadn’t made a move on you yet.

“You know Y/N’s a person right? you could just go talk to her” Randy scoffed, snatching the tape from Stu before he could argue.

This whole thing had been going on for too long and it was starting to get ridiculous.

Stu didn’t say anything for a second as he thought over what Randy was proposing. It couldn’t have hurt to actually talk to you, even with as nice as just staring at you for the last hour or so had been.

There was a small chance Billy wouldn’t like it, with the threat it would pose to their long con it would pose, but when the blonde glanced over at his friend to find him chatting up a few girls of his own, he made up his mind.

It wasn’t like talking to you would be the end of the world or something. It was just a conversation and it was like Randy said, you were a person after all.

You had been stacking VHS tapes on the displays around the store for the last few hours, filling in gaps here and there, and by this point, it was like muscle memory. You didn’t really think about it as you put each case on the wall, hardly paying attention to your surroundings.

This was just supposed to be a job to help pass the time and give you a little bit more walking around money, and you didn’t get paid enough to cater to every customer's every need.

That kind of thing was much more up Randy’s alley, who treated this job like the greatest thing to ever happen to him. If someone had a question about a movie, you pointed them in his direction and kept on stacking.

...but that wasn’t always going to work.

Out of nowhere, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, too close to be directed at anyone that wasn’t you.

Naturally, having worked here for a while, you assumed that it was just someone with a question about where to find something and turned around. Helping people find the things they were looking for was literally your only job, after all.

What you could have never expected was Stu Macher, standing there with an almost expectant grin on his face.

“Can I help you find something?” you asked, practically reciting from the script you were given when you were hired here. He was probably looking for some movie full of Jamie Lee flashing her tits, just like every other guy around here was.

Whatever it was he needed though, he needed to get to it.

You had to restock all of these shelves with titles from the back, a task that would surely keep you here until midnight anyway.

The longer he took to get to the point, the more behind you would be.

Besides, it wasn’t like he needed you specifically for that. He could have just as easily asked Randy for whatever horny horror fest he was searching for.

Not that such a simple idea had struck Stu in all the time he’d been here, doing whatever it was he was doing.

“I’m actually just looking,” he hummed, shrugging in a way that should have sent him back to where he had previously been browsing, if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was a complete and total lie.

Stu was only here for one reason, and one reason alone.

He had to make a move.

If he didn’t, it was becoming clear that Randy was thinking about it and there was just no way the blonde was going to let that happen.

“You come here often?” he tried after a few seconds, letting himself lean a bit over you, consuming all the space that your height didn’t occupy.

It was quite the line, you had to give him that, not that it was anything other than awkward given his clumsy, goofy delivery and the dopey look on his face.

He wanted to be cool about this whole thing, and to come off mysterious and suave, like Billy always did, but it wasn’t working. Obviously, because as soon as he said it, you laughed.

You actually laughed.

It was hardly the reaction Stu had been expecting from you, or any guy could have expected under the circumstances, but he assumed it was better than you just shutting him down right off the bat.

At least if you were laughing, you weren’t walking away.

“What?” he laughed, an almost unsettled edge to his desperate attempt to salvage any part of this interaction. Given all the time that he’d had to prepare for what exactly it was he was going to say to you, it should have been much better than that.

...but you had to give him some credit.

As awkward as this was, he put himself out there in a way that took a lot of courage, courage that most guys around here didn’t have. Normally, they would just make some crude attempt at sexualizing you then call you fat when you rejected it.

Stu was already vastly ahead of the douchebags you were used to.

“Nothing, that's just much more of a line than I was expecting, Randy put you up to it?” you questioned, catching sight of the way the male in question was gawking over at the two of you, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t snooping.

It wouldn’t have surprised you if he set it all up to be funny, but Stu didn’t seem to find the same understanding. In fact, he was almost insulted by the idea of what you were suggesting. Like he couldn't just hit on a pretty girl without a reason?

He’d done it plenty of times before without cause.

“Nah, I just wanted to get to know you a little better” he shrugged, continuing to talk even as you leaned down to gather a few of the movies from the storage boxes, headed to the rom com section to stock them on the shelves.

It was sweet, in a strange way.

He was really weird, you couldn’t act like he wasn’t, but there was also something about him that was almost endearing.

“Well, I’m a captive audience until six so ask away” you allowed, a small smile on your face as you tried to focus on doing your job while also maintaining a conversation with the man in front of you. You were trying really hard to keep it as professional as possible, but it wasn’t exactly easy.

After all, he was laying it on pretty thick, making it overly clear just how interested in you he was even though he was trying to convey an air of casualness.

“Okay, what’s your favorite movie?” came Stu’s voice again, accompanied by the tapping of his fingers on the shelf.

You thought over his question for a second or so, doing your best to figure out what he wanted you to say before you decided to just go with it. Talking to Stu wasn’t the worst thing you would have to do today, and based on how it was going, it might actually help pass the time.

At least he was entertaining.

“It depends on what genre you’re looking at, I guess. I like all kinds of stuff” you decided, standing up briefly to find him leaning over the shelf separating the two of you, his face in his hand.

If nothing else, he certainly seemed to be pretty enthralled with this conversation.

It was something you didn’t get super often, and it would be a lie to say that it didn’t feel nice to have someone so interested in every single word that fell from your lips.

It was no wonder he was so popular.

“I’ve always been a horror guy myself. Like any of those?” he asked, tapping his fingers gingerly on the shelf as he spoke, syncing up his words rather nicely as he grinned at you. He was hoping, not so secretly, that you did.

As much as he was clearly attracted to you, his obsession with gore was a big part of Stu’s life and he didn’t want to miss out on it in any way.

It would just be a huge bonus if you liked watching them with him, so that you could watch them together for date nights and stuff.

It would be a good time, not to mention the fact that he and Billy only ever really did that.

“Yeah, I do. That’s actually why I started working here” you informed, thinking about just how quickly you had applied for this job once you found out they were hiring. Of all the places you could work in this town, it just felt like the place.

It was perfect.

“That’s great, I was hoping you'd say that” Stu allowed, smiling at you as he thought about it. All in all, this was going a lot better than he could have ever assumed and now that he knew he could check the horror block with you too, he was thrilled.

You couldn't have been more perfect for him.

“Maybe we could watch some sometime, at my folks place?” he offered, a twinkle in his eye as he finally got to the point that he’d been waiting for all this time.

The two of you had never really had a conversation alone before now, because his friends were always tagging along. However, it wasn’t as if he’d made too bad a first impression, as strange as he was.

You were kind of lost as to what could have brought this on so suddenly but watching a movie or two at his house couldn’t have been the end of the world.

He was harmless, and besides, it could have been fun to get to know him better.

You stopped, straightening up to look him in the face, that same sly grin there that he hadn’t been able to wipe off his face in this entire time.

“Yeah, we can do that. You can just get my number from Randy and call sometime” you smiled, turning back away to finish up the last of the box from the back. The sooner you finished this up, the sooner you could start cleaning up from the rush.

For you, it was a simple enough suggestion. Randy and the rest of your coworkers all had your telephone number and seeing as they were pretty close, it would just be easier for him to get it there.

If your manager found out you were flirting on the job, you would never hear the end of it.

Though, for Stu, it was far less innocent. He had only really just interacted with you in this new way but now that he had, he wasn’t exactly a huge fan of Randy already having your number.

Especially not knowing how much the male in question likes you.

“Cool, cool, I’ll talk to you later then” Stu nodded, turning around to find Randy still watching intently. He seemed to really think that he had a shot but now that Stu had made up his mind, there was no way he was ever going to let that happen.

You were too good for him to just let you go so easily.

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smugliar · 7 months ago

Text

"Right, sure, thanks."

He scoffs, still unable to match the other man's gaze.

Ace had wanted to go for a walk. It was boring by the fire waiting for others to return from their trials. He always got antsy during times of extended silence, and if sleep wouldn't take him, when Solitaire became dull, a walk was the only other thing to do.

He hadn't expected to find this, the motel, any of it. He had found a library of sorts in the woods. The Fog was like that, he discovered. Sometimes wandering off led you to an empty trial- perfect for looting some good finds. A lot of his walks sometimes caught him in loops, forcing him to make his way back to the campfire. But this had been different.

The study he found was in chaos. He knew the signs of a struggle when he saw one, having been on the receiving end of many. A lot of the books had single-word titles, almost written haphazardly. Ace had picked one up from the shelf-- Conviction, it read --but before he had taken a look inside a door caught his eye. It was oddly placed, tucked away down a shelved hallway, squished between two rows of books. It almost looked out of place. Among the worn varnish, there, in the middle of the door, sat a large triangle. It was still pristine from god knows how long this place had been here. Growing up, Ace had been scolded for his curiosity. He had been a nosey kid and that hadn't exactly gone away as he had gotten older, and that wasn't about to change then, either. So, naturally, he opened the door. The worst that could happen was he died, and that wasn't unfamiliar territory.

And that had led him to the motel, then here. A room full of florescent lighting and a drowning sense of familiarity, that Ace was currently watching circle the drain.

It ended up being some sort of secret government base he had stumbled into- the Bureau of Control. They served as some sort of hub for the paranormal. They assured Ace that it wasn't a prison, but the off-gray sweat suit wasn't exactly supporting their case.

The heart in his mouth now hangs somewhere suspended in his chest, tight and uncomfortable. Ace is trying to wrap his head around the concept that this isn't Miles-- his Miles --but some other guy who hadn't seen his guts time and time again. He almost doesn't believe him, that Miles doesn't recognize him sitting here. Fuck, he's almost embarrassed in the way he almost imminently shot up when Miles walked into the room.

He's trying to ignore how he doesn't laugh back, or how his stoic expression remains unmoved. Ace isn't lost on the dust of humor that's carried in his delivery. He gives a slight smirk at it but he can't ignore how it stings, as much as he tries to hide it. This feels like a joke.

"I wouldn't hold your bets, though." He lets out a short, breathless laugh, raising his head. "With the amount of head trauma I've probably gotten from every weapon in a horror killer's shed, I wouldn't be surprised if it already was."

@smugliar asked: "I'd love to blame this on a mass hallucination caused by inhaling volcanic gas, but we both know that's bullshit." aw2 starters || accepting

Wouldn't be the weirdest explanation he's heard for... well, for anything, really. The mundane is so much easier to believe, to compartmentalize, to accept. Everyone wants to blame haunted houses on carbon monoxide poisoning because that doesn't fundamentally alter your perception of reality.

The thing is that this guy hasn't seemed bothered by the notion that he'd skipped from one reality to another until now. When they found him in the motel he'd been casual about the circumstances, then apparently relieved when they pulled him out of the Oceanview and into the Oldest House. From what Miles gathered from the preliminary notes, the man has some understanding of shifting planes and alternate dimensions. He'd been lost -- trapped -- in another one, a darker one, and now he's here. That should be an improvement, and he'd been acting like it was one around the other agents and scientists until Miles entered the small interrogation room.

Interview room. Interrogation feels too pointed, too accusatory, even if the space is set up like every crappy procedural cop drama known to man. An ergonomic metal table and chairs. Obnoxious fluorescent lights. One-way glass off to the side. Except instead of officers and lawyers there's a slew of labcoats and clipboards on the other side, and the whole space is lined with Black Rock, and the light source isn't entirely identifiable. Still, he doesn't want to think of this guy like a criminal -- even if the way he's looking at Miles borders on twitchy. There's an easygoing persona about him, but the way his eyes keep darting across Miles' face suggests he's searching for something and coming up short.

That, and he said Miles' name the minute he walked in. Like it was a question. Like he recognized him. Not in a way that asked you must be but in a way that said is that really you?

Miles has let him do most of the talking. It's taken some prompting and persuading, and he can't fault the other for the lack of trust. He knows he hasn't gotten the full story by the time the man -- Ace Visconti, a fake name if he's ever heard one -- leans back in his seat and offers the neat little hallucinatory gas explanation, like he knows he sounds crazy and is trying to downplay it.

He's not looking at Miles anymore, but even then he's implicating him with his words. We both know that's bullshit. Like he's expecting the agent to go along with it. And the thing is, Miles almost wants to. He has half a mind to laugh like it's a joke, crack one of his own like this is a friendly conversation where he knows exactly what kind of comments he can get away with.

Do I know him? Do we know him?

The back of his skull prickles like pins and needles. That isn't a no.

"Mass hysteria's less common than you think -- real cases of it, anyway, not paranatural incidents the FBC has convinced people are all in their heads. Of course, this could all just be in your head, that's more likely than anything on a collective scale." There's humor in his tone in spite of the words themselves. He's not making light of what the other has been through, but his sense of tact is warped to say the least. "But you're right, I do know that's bullshit. Your story sounds credible to me. Fucked up, yeah, but credible." That nagging sense of recognition lingers, but he pushes it to the side, not wanting it in whatever official report comes out of this.

"So congrats for managing to dimension hop without scrambling your brain in the process. That's a rare feat around here."

#verse ;; remedy #walridiing #;; threads

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Note

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you.

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

#bts #yandere #jung hoseok #j hope bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fan fiction #bts requests #bts reactions #vampire! jhope #vampire! bts #bangtan reaction #bangtan fanfic

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years ago

Text

Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before.

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind.

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I?

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone.

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.”

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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noitkot1 · 3 years ago

Text

The Entity Headcannons P5

It’s going to be more focused on The Entity and how it relates to this “weak point in the worlds,” Grian has been speaking of. But trust me, there’s a lot more, I just wanna stick with the title.

MOTHER OF ALL GRIANS AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Grian mentioned something coming out of the rift. This could refer to the future, or something that has already appeared out of it. Stuff could be spilling out of it. Hence: The Entity! It was one of the first things to spill out of this portal. One of the first things which got pulled to a lone time ago. It doesn’t understand it either, but hey, there’s some players around to mind control pog.

The more people who have come into contact with The Entity, the less they’re questioning it. It’s just a thing there. Just a cool shop project and theme Grian is working with this season. When its going to be moving to the new shopping district, people question where, and how exactly Grian plans to move it. Good thing The Entity’s heart can take its blue goopy self and stick to the side of his arm whilst Grian takes a quick flight over.

The Entity was just vibing on the server. Been there for many years, living peacefully as a peddle flowing down the river. Then suddenly the hermits with all their godly hermits spawn in and it is quite terrifying. It first meets Grian of who instantly asks it to be apart of his shop. He’s looking to scare some hermits this season! Start: The Entity and Grian going around, being spooky and putting on literally horror stories for non-godly hermits.

I just wanted to put a picture of The Entity with its cute little bowtie and it from the top. Its such a lovely build. I adore it. Plus the blocks used honestly might refer to deeper caves/the area where deepslate and stone meet if we wanna start talking about where this shell/boulder/rock comes from in terms of the seed/earth/planet/server.

Around the server, Grian’s discovered... odd areas. Stuff player made, but none of the other players see to claim to have created. Following the bread crumbs these books and old, rickety areas left, it led him to a pile of blue goop lying within the caves under spawn, contained in a broken cage underneath the homes of the scientist. This is when he hears The Entity’s heartbeat and its installed to the top of the rock. There it will be safe. No one on Hermitcraft would ever maliciously grief or damage a shop. But these homes and labs lead him to more, obviously very, very old in technology and science standards. “The Entity came from the magical halo within a cave.” Grian discovers from another crumbling structure some 100 blocks away from spawn. Huh. What could that mean.

It shed its form. Like snails do with their shells! Its central part is the heart and the water around it, and it likes staying next to water since it can spread its influence on the land through the water quickly. Everything has started and came from the water afterall. The heart always stays beating though, no matter what Grian did to it when it glued itself to his arm in the cave.

The old scientists are very old, and apart of Grian regrets this being a blind world. One that wasn’t looked up by Xisuma and the hermits to make sure everything was okay. ( Of course that didn’t prevent the moon crash. ) And there is something wrong with this world, and this entity has something to do with it. He goes on with the research, and he made the entity into a shop for “its easier to study, Scar!” Maybe he’s a bit paranoid after the moon, or after the watchers, and maybe he has reason to be scared as he shelves another rotting book.

#hermitcraft season 9 #hermitcraft #hermitblr #Headcanon #The Entity #watcher grian #headcannon #I got a proper AU going #I really like this one #grian #The Entity <3 #NOITKOT talks

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years ago

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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himbo-beel · 3 years ago

Text

Leviathan and Ace MC

“Pick whatever you want while I get this set up,” Levi said with his back turned to me, though I didn’t mind much when my own back was turned to him. While he switched connections from his desktops to his consoles arranged on, over, and below his desks, there were still half a room’s worth of games and dvds I could explore the titles of.

It had taken some time - both to get Levi to let me into his room and to go through his extensive collection of anime and rpgs - but we were slowly closing ranks. We’d watched series ranging from old classics to streams of airing episodes and played games made in the Devildom, Human World, and the lesser known games from the Celestial Realm. Surprising as it was they even made games up there, the novelty of it quickly wore off with its less than interesting plot and cheesy characters.

Something else was quickly wearing off, too, or maybe it was more like was piling up as I skimmed through the shelves for something the two of us could play.

While there was an array of different games and movies and series throughout Levi’s room, most, if not all of them, were of a certain genre. Romance. Romantic comedies. Slice of life. Dating sims. Even the rpgs had hints of dating elements, I noticed, flipping to the back cover of a game with an interesting name. I was aware that Levi enjoyed these, but I hadn’t thought it was to this extent. From the way he talked about the ones he regularly played, I’d been more than a little excited to go through action and sci-fi and, maybe if we kept the lights on, a little bit of horror.

“Hey, Levi-”

“You find something you like?” His head popped back out from under his desk and he stood up, done connecting everything for our next game session. He took the game from my hand to turn it in his hands. “You want to play this one? This one isn’t just for everyone, you know. Once you get past the tutorial stage everything gets a lot harder - like a lot harder. Just the first boss has this move that can wipe everyone out because it-”

“Wait, wait if you tell me how the game goes I won’t be surprised, right?” Levi’s brows furrowed at he dropped his eyes to the floor, scuffing a heel against it as he nodded. “Actually, wait, that’s not what I wanted to say.” I wanted to reach out to him to comfort him along with my words. I did really want to play with him, but there was something I really had to ask him, too. It was only a matter of choosing my words more carefully. “How does hitting characters with, um, love rays, get harder?”

He picked his head up and I tried to give him a smile.

“You see, the girls you have to hit run a lot faster in the higher levels. And your ammo stay the same so you don’t have as many chances to miss. Plus, it can get really distracting because they can-”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, hoping the smile was still on my face. “Remember that I want to try this on my own with too many hints.” But maybe I did want hints. What exactly was this game? Having to shoot half naked people with a love ray to make them stop chasing you? And they had special powers to distract you? I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my throat.

Levi was already taking the game back to his desk and I followed after him, hoping to make myself comfortable in the chairs he had set out, but I fidgeted as the loading screen lit up the television.

“Hey, Levi,” I ventured, and I watched him nod his head in acknowledgment before shifting my gaze back to the screen. I winced. The title display was exactly what I thought it would be like. “Do you only play games like this?”

“No.” His answer came quickly and his attention never wavered as he set up the options. “I have a lot of rhythm games and virtual escape room puzzles. No one else seems to like them much so I thought-”

“We could have been playing escape room puzzles and you’re making me play this?” The exasperation was clear in my voice and I could only cough out an apology as I lost my breath trying to back track. “I don’t mean I don’t want to play this with you! I’d like any game, probably, so long as it meant spending some time with you!”

Levi had finally turned away from the screen and I shut my mouth at the look he gave him. “I thought everyone else liked these kinds of games.” He held up his controller.

“Well I’m not everyone.” I sat up straighter. “I don’t really like these kinds of games. It’s a little uncomfortable, if I’m being honest.” A lot of uncomfortable, actually, but his furrowed brows and pursed lips made me hesitant to say anything more.

“Me, too.” He put his controller down and ejected the disk. I didn’t realize I’d been holding a breath until the screen went dark and I felt like I could breath again. “Everyone kept making fun of the games I do play, so I looked up some of the more popular names. All of these,” Levi said, lifting a hand to gesture at the rows of video games that lined the shelves in his room, “are them. How they got to be so popular when they’re much more boring and easy to beat than any of my favorites is beyond me, but, I thought, if I at least had them, people would think I liked them, too, and would stop making fun of how much I play if they thought I was playing these.” He glanced back at me. “But I guess not.”

I laughed and tapped him lightly on the top of his head with my own controller. “I’m still, aren’t I? Wanting to play a game with you? Specifically one of those rhythm or puzzle games?”

“Are you sure? We could watch something instead or-”

“Levi, if you suggest watching one more romance anime I’ll actually leave.”

“No, don’t! We can play a puzzle game!”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me shall we date fanfiction #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #gn!mc #my writing #mc is asexual #asexual mc

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