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cattimeswithjellie · 5 months ago

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Stream Recap GoodTimesWithScar, 06-23-24

((A note to readers: I am going to spoil the cause of Scar’s audio issues right away because knowing what is going on is going to be very helpful to you in understanding and visualizing the chaos that is about to unfold. Just before going live, Scar attempted to tweet his Going Live message but had a hard time getting the URL to work. In the process, he somehow opened a new browser window that ended up having three tabs that were all running instances of his stream. This window became minimized and Scar didn’t notice it because he had a browser window already up. Scar’s OBS has a setting on it that plays desktop audio, and his microphone noise gate only works up to a certain volume of sound, after which it assumes you mean to be making that noise and broadcasts it (this is a theory). So what you have to picture is that every time Scar says something, it gets echoed several times a second later by the three hidden stream tabs. That desktop audio gets picked up as well and reflected again and again, but will eventually fade off after a few loops, softer each time. If Scar continues speaking, though, and especially if he yells or makes a loud noise, the microphone’s pickup will grab hold of it and the echoes will actually become louder until the result is an overwhelming cacophony of whatever noises have happened in the last thirty seconds. It’s really quite something. For a more coherent narrative of the first forty minutes of the stream, you can also visit the stream recap for ZombieCleo’s 6/23 stream.))

8:30 Scar’s starting stream is still on, but the starting music ends. Sub notifications are active and it is curious how the chime keeps going off even when there is no matching sub message appearing on the screen. Chat does not notice. Before this point, stream audio was apparently normal.

9:05 Scar opens the stream on studio view and welcomes everyone to the stream. About five seconds in, his greeting begins echoing overtop his words, It echoes again, and again, and again, growing gradually louder. Scar looks perplexed, then alarmed, then starts yelling almost inaudibly under the massive swell of “WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME, AND WELCOME TO THE STREAM EVERYBODY.” A chatter instantly identifies that Scar has a stream open, but Chat is moving extremely quickly with this kind of exciting situation. The echoes are getting more crackly and lower quality but also louder as they move further from the source audio. “What is happening?” Scar mouths. The echoes finally die away.

10:22 “I don’t know what just happened!” Scar cries plaintively, then puts his hands over his mouth as the new phrase starts repeating just as quickly. Chat is both deafened and incredibly amused. Because Scar was not as loud this time, the echo dies away much more quickly. Scar looks from his setup to his chat screen, ideas clearly filling his head. “If I say anything it just repeats!” he says as fast as he can, then gives into the natural urge to beatbox into an audio loop. The new phrase and the “oontz oontz oontz” begins echoing, and Scar layers more beatboxing on top of it. Chat thinks Jono and/or Cub will have fun with this. Once that echo dies, Scar makes several false starts to say something, clearly not knowing what to do. The false starts begin echoing as well, and he just gives up. He doesn’t know what to do or say, because whenever he says anything it goes crazy! This cry also echoes. Scar is getting better at timing his voice so the loops are, at least, somewhat shorter.

11:55 “Impulse where are you, I need you!” Scar cries to the heavens. ((Impulse is the go-to guy for many of the Hermits when it comes to sound tech issues.)) The echoes mock him ceaselessly and in vain. Impulse is not online. Scar puts his head in his hand and laughs. This one was loud enough that it gets much louder before it dies off. Many chatters are now suggesting the multiple-open-tabs theory. A dono activates text-to-voice, that also triggers the echo sequence. Chat has no way of contacting Impulse, but they do begin soliciting help from Ren and Cleo, who are also streaming. It is unclear what sort of help they can provide, but they both become aware of the situation pretty quickly.

13:30 Scar rests his face on his palm and lets the stream echo. Right now it is mostly “Scar enters his DC phase” from the dono message with the faint echo of “Impulse where are you, I need you!” far below. Chatters are begging him to close his windows/browser and check his microphone settings, but Chat is also going too fast to read most of the time. Scar gives up and sings the Catdog song. Everything is unintelligble chaos. The headphone chatters regret their life choices.

14:30 Silence. Scar mouths “I don’t know what’s going on.” Chat has a lot of ideas but are still moving too fast to read. He repeats the words in a whisper, which echoes and fades. He realizes he is looping ASMR now and makes several more noises, then whimpers “I don’t know what to do! Help please, somebody!” It echoes. He starts talking fast and loud, with predictable results.

17:00 Scar goes all in on Catdog. It gets loud really fast. Chat is both grooving and suffering. ((It should be noted that through this entire audio issue, Scar is averaging 2.8k viewers.)) He waits for everything to quiet down, then says “Well hello there, and welcome to the wonderful world of CATDOG!” The echo is _horrifying._

19:20 Ren’s voice becomes audible on the stream, saying something about how he’s heard Scar is having mic issues and has come to help him. Scar is still in studio view, so this is the first indication that he is already on the Hermitcraft server. Scar calls out to ask if Ren is there and if he’s come to save him. Scar asks chat why sometimes it gets louder and sometimes it trails off. Chat tries to tell him he is muted in game. Ren begins singing an improvised version of Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire with lyrics about audio problems. ((Ren and his chat are watching Scar’s stream live and so can see and hear what is going on even though most of the audio nonsense is not actually going out on the server.)) Scar sings along and switches to game view. He is on his zoo train and Ren is standing in front of him, wearing his GigaCorp skin and taxi pants. ((The recapper’s child comes along at this point and asks what the heck the recapper is watching, because the sound is just that atrocious.))

20:30 Ren is playing that Scar has a Gigacorp microphone and he is Gigacorp technical support chat. He sings another song, this time Linkin Park’s Crawling In My Skin with the lyrics “Burning in my ears, this mic is echoing, Chat asked me to come and help you, but there is nothing I can be doing. The echoing inside me, is burning my brain! The pain, of my earholes… Maybe you should just restart your computer, that might fix it! Just saaaaying, the paaaaain in my earholes.” He says “Good talk,” and flies away, leaving the song getting louder and more horrifying behind him.

23:10 The audio mayhem finally subsides, so Scar immediately goes to find Cleo for additional mayhem. ((Cleo has a stream rule against talking about what other streamers are up to and has temporarily banned the word “Scar” in their chat at this point, but has nonetheless been made very aware that Scar is on his way and hell is riding with him.)) He finds Cleo at their base. The first thing Cleo says is a cheerful “Hi!” at exactly the tone and pitch that will echo endlessly. Scar can’t figure out how to unmute himself to the server, so she continues to talk in an increasingly incoherent loop. It gets really, really loud. Sensing chaos, Ren returns and starts singing the Burning In My Ears song again.

25:40 Scar flies away, trying to clear the echo buffer. He comes back just in time to hear Cleo yelling “What do they expect me to do?” and Ren say ��This feels like a fever dream,” which form the basis of the new echo loop. Ren sings Eminem’s “My Name is” song with lyrics of his own devising. Scar flies away again. He figures out how to unmute and flies back yelling “Help me!” Ren yells “He’s back for more!” and begins hepfully beatboxing. Chat is still making valiant efforts to tech support Scar, who stopped paying attention a very long time ago. Cleo is talking and laughing in the background.

28:00 Scar makes additional communications efforts, all of them similarly useless. He and Ren sing a song about Mr. Kirkland and his four-pound pie, which seems to be a song Scar made up about the virtues of the Costco chocolate-peanut butter pie. Cleo has been trying to pass along some tech-support tips but is quickly drowned out. She joins in the song.

30:15 Scar does something that abruptly cuts the audio chaos. There is a moment of silence, then Ren and Cleo begin talking and looping. The audio is full of Cleo’s intention to eat a sour jellybean. Scar yells “It’s getting worse!” and flies away. He thinks he is onto something, so he lands on a tree and begins playing with his settings.

31:30 Scar changes something in his settings which completely fixes the problem from Chat’s POV. Scar sounds totally normal, no looping. He himself is still getting one echo over his headset. Chat celebrates wildly as Scar interacts with the echo that only he can hear, paying it compliments and having a conversation. He insists he’s going to have a burial ritual for his headset later on in the day and complains that everything in his life is broken. He is not sure how he got things almost fixed but not fixed and decides he will try unmuting, and muting another source.

32:40 Chat’s moment of peace is over. The echo comes back, everything is unfixed again. Scar does not appear to have realized at any point that Chat’s audio was fixed or that he was the only one still getting echo, but now everyone is echoing again. Scar sighs heavily, a sound that repeats again and again as he flies back to Ren and Cleo. Now game sounds are also in the echo mix. Scar flies away again.

33:50 Scar mutes and makes the loop stop. Everything is fixed to chat. He still has the echo for himself. He is still talking to a voice no one else can hear. He mouths something to chat. He unfixes it again. He flies back to Ren and Cleo, who sing Bohemian Rhapsody to him. It immediately becomes overwhelmingly loud. ((It’s much nicer on Ren and Cleo’s streams.)) Scar has given up. His fingers are off the keyboad and he is slumped with his head in one hand. Cleo manages to get through the din to tell him that they are sending tech support photos and information from their partner via Discord. This is ill-timed because it means that they are tabbed out and Ren is absolutely not paying attention as a Drowned sneaks up and murders Scar before he can straighten up and get his hands back on the keys.

36:10 Scar respawns in the zoo train with the echoes of his ignominious demise ringing in everyone’s ears. Chat, at least, thinks this is very funny. Because Scar was yelling his way through his death, it is the sort of echo that gets louder as it goes on, until his screams are nearly deafening as he flies back to Cleo’s base. Scar looks about as done as it is possible for one man to be.

37:10 All the noise stops. “I muted it,” Scar whispers to chat. No echo. He tells Chat that he’s going to get his stuff and then he’s going to look at the troubleshooting info. He tries to follow some of the troubleshooting info and immediately unfixes everything again. Chat didn’t even have time to celebrate. Scar muses that it seems like he’s getting multiple sources repeating themselves. He thinks he’s on the right track, but he needs to get his stuff back first. He returns to Ren and Cleo and asks for his things. Ren is wearing the Poe Poe hat. It looks good on him, but he tosses it back, then starts in with Sandstorm by Darude, a whole new audio hellscape especially once Scar starts throwing in rockets.

39:40 Cleo tells Scar that he is awesome, and that is funny that it’s Ren being the menace today, when usually it is Scar. She asks Ren when he thinks Scar will mute them. Scar asks for more compliments instead. He mutes again. He’s back down to one echo. Chat has no echo. There is no game sound. Scar gets a thoughtful look on his face. Game sound comes back. Cleo reminds Ren that they are trying to be nice to Scar, even though it is difficult. Ren doesn’t know from being nice, he is trying to make loop tracks here. “Oh, this is your Woodstock, got it,” Cleo jokes. “What about wood?” Scar asks, and immediately regrets everything as it begins looping back on him. Cleo is amazed that he recognizes what he just said, Scar says yes, because it is playing back to him over and over. Cleo is amazed and sees the potential of Scar’s conscience being simply “Play back every out of pocket thing he says”.

41:50 Cleo gives Scar more advice, he drops back down to one echo and no in-game sound or voices audible to chat. He moans an “Oh no.” He tells Ren to keep going with what he’s doing and unfixes everything in time for chat to hear Ren’s rendition of the “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck” chant. He is dancing. Scar is firing rockets. Everything is echoing. It is chaos.

43:30 Everything stops. Scar admits that he may have figured out what is wrong. If someone were to have three open sources of their own stream running in the background, would that be enough to cause this? Cleo pointed out that was literally the first thing they asked. Chat is melting down with YES and laughter. Laughing, Cleo yells at him as he tries to explain that he had a second set of tabs behind his main tabs and that secret second set of tabs had three extremely sneaky instances of his stream that he’d accidentally created while trying to do a Go Live tweet.

44:40 Ren tells Scar, very sincerely, that he is easily in Ren’s top ten favorite humans. Scar cannot hear him because his headphones have taken this opportunity to fall apart again. Ren types it in the chat instead. Scar realizes that Ren’s mic is quieted in his audio mix and tells him that he is pumping him up. Cleo says Ren does not need pumping up, Ren comes fully inflated at all times. Chat has a lot of feelings about that phrasing. Scar tells everyone that this has never happened before. Cleo says at least they know what the problem was: ineptitude!

((I will not be recapping the next section because it is functionally the exact same as what I already recapped in this section of Cleo’s 6/23 stream. It’s a very long but entertaining podcast-style conversation that eventually encompasses Joe and Cub as well as they discuss Scar’s headphones, Ren’s traumatic boarding school memories, Scar’s history as an archer and whether or not Scar may have helped himself to a “layaway” plan at Cleo’s book shop after he fell into some lava and lost all his stuff again. Eventually the topic turns to possible identities for the Ore Snatcher, and after a long run-through that provides no concrete evidence or conclusions, they all fly over to the armor trim shop.

1:55:50 Scar follows the others to the armor trim shop, taking several potshots as he goes. He pulls out his Poe Poe horn and begins playing it to signify that this is the official Chief Investigator on an official Investigatory Visit. He is immediately distracted by a Wandering Trader who has blocks he wants, including gilded blackstone miniblocks. The others are already inside though, so he follows them into the shop. Ren thinks the redstone looks very scary, but Joe knows enough to be pretty sure that most of the blocks in the circuitry would be easy to replace so long as the machine was not presently active.

1:57:10 Cleo groans as they look at the armor stand work, which Doc spent a long time on because he has alienated his best source of armor stand sculpture work. Some of the statue postures are pretty tortured, especially under the hood, and nothing is locked. Joe and Scar cheerfully tell Cleo to go ahead and fix it, Doc definitely won’t mind somebody messing with his stuff, especially in this shop! Cleo begins working on the armor stands, declaring confidently that Doc won’t even know.

1:57:20 It occurs to Scar to ask if the shop is even open yet. The machine seems complete, but there’s no obvious mechanism by which to buy anything. Joe chooses to deliberately misinterpret the question and points out that of course it is open, look how easy it is to walk in and out of the wide open portal! Cub lays down several magma blocks in the doorway, presumably to prank Joe, but Joe has already gone back inside. As Ren checks the redstone for more missing blocks, Cub takes down the magma blocks he placed, thus triggering the alarm and jumpscaring everyone. The Hermits do not know exactly what set off the alarm. (Ren has helped with testing for the alarm and should know that blocks breaking set off the machine, but he presumably did not see or hear Cub break the blocks.)

1:57:50 Ren warns the others not to go down into the circuits, there’s an alarm system. Scar peers into the guts of the machine and catches a glimpse of said system. “It’s a Warden, what the heck!” he yells. Chat is already gleefully predicting how mad Doc is going to be about all this nonsense. Scar is reduced to sputtering, Cleo is cackling. Ren proudly announces that he has been killed by this Warden before. Ren tells them that the Warden is coming up the stairs now and they’d better leave before there is chaos. Just as he says that, the whole world goes dark. The Hermits make a run for it.

1:59:00 The Hermits regroup on the grass outside the shop. Ren points out that if the Warden is going to get out and wreck Doc’s shop it should be on a video and not a stream, because the content would be much better. Scar’s just glad he already finished his shop so he won’t have to listen to the alarm until Doc comes to turn it off. Cub and Scar worry about the Wandering Trader, but there is no sign of the Warden so far. Cleo is not afraid of wardens. Cub and Scar think about investigating, but the sound is terrible. Joe goes straight in but only stays for a moment. Scar shoots at him anyway. The Hermits wonder what triggered the alarm. Chat knows and informs Scar that it was Cub’s fault. Cleo realizes it is going to be _so easy_ to annoy Doc and is thrilled to death. Scar wonders how anybody is supposed to pay for anything if nobody can get their wallet out in the shop.

2:01:10 Joe returns and Cub decides he’s going in. Scar is having Decked Out flashbacks. Cub says in chat that it’s fine. Cleo and Ren never got far enough down into Decked Out to be scared of wardens. Cub returns and proudly declares that he got blasted. The hermits discuss whether they should leave signs explaining what happened or just leave the alarm running and Doc wondering what happened. Cleo points out that now The Glitcher can do whatever they want. The other Hermits have not heard the name “The Glitcher” before (except Scar has and has forgotten.) Cleo thinks The Glitcher is a very Cub name. Scar gets out his Darth Vader breathing horn to attempt to intimidate Cub into an immediate confession. It is super-ineffective. Cub accuses Scar and Grian based on history. Ren plays Etho’s “What’s going on” horn.

2:04:20 Ren sums up that the group has been at it for an hour and fifteen minutes and are literally no closer to determining the identity of the Ore Snatcher. Scar points out that at least they found there’s a warden in the trim shop. It seems bad for business. Cleo doesn’t think Doc cares about business and it’s all about the drama. Cub makes a little show of not remembering the name “Glitcher” and asks if they left a sign. Scar gets Chat to send him one. Ren suggests the possibility of a copycat. He wants to put up a sign that suggests a new villain on the scene, for the “rascal energy.” Scar suggest Wells and/or Hypno, but they haven’t been around. Ren thinks the new fake villain could be “The Pincer,” but he can’t put up the sign himself because he is Doc’s husband. Cleo is happy to do it. Scar insists that he is the investigator and can’t allow this to happen, but is effectively powerless after Cleo, too, proves impervious to the power of Darth Vader Breathing.

2:07:30 Cleo and Ren approach the sand pile to create sign-based mischief. Grian signs in. Chat sends Scar a message with the Glitcher$ sign, Scar remembers it now. Ren and Cleo return, arguing because Cleo thinks “The Pincher” is dumb and won’t put it on the sign. Scar is affronted remembering that Doc thought he was the culprit because the sign was misspelled. He objects to being accused just because he’s “the dumbest one in the crew.” He is paying so much attention to Doc’s accusations, in fact, that he misses Joe mentioning that there is another sign up there that looks like it comes from Scar (that Joe put there.) The Hermits retreat from the sand pile because the noise is terrible. Cleo says she would feel bad about winding Doc up, except he completely deserves it. Ren agrees that even though he is Doc’s husband, he has to admit that a price must be paid for pig murder. Cleo hears “price” and remembers it’s time to spread a little bribery around. Ren tries to double-dip and winds up getting Joe accused of diamond-snatching and chased away by Cleo. He deserves it though because he actually does steal Scar’s diamonds while Scar is distracted by his Chat.

2:09:40 Scar asks why his Chat is convinced Big Salmon is the culprit. He doesn’t even know what that means. As he looks around, he catches sight of a very tiny figure far away, hopping up the side of the sand pile near the goat statue. It disappears before he can zoom in. Scar says he swears he just saw Grian, except Grian’s not even online. The others tell him that Grian is indeed online. Scar flies over to the shop to investigate, but Grian has disappeared. He was not near to the door and so probably could not have gotten into the shop, but where he did go is a mystery. Scar blankets the shop with Darth Vader Breathing, just in case.

2:10:40 Scar returns to the others and reports no luck. Cleo thinks Grian is absolutely the perfect fit for this crime. Ren objects and says Grian wouldn’t incriminate himself in front of four Hermits, Cleo says that is exactly something Grian would do if he thought he could get away with it. Ren sees the sign Joe put up on Scar’s behalf and everyone is confused and suspicious until Joe scolds them all for not paying attention to the fact that he told them he was putting up that sign ten minutes ago.

2:12:20 Cleo sighs and says she loves it when a plan comes together, she just wishes it were hers. The others give her weird looks for that and say that if she doesn’t want to be perceived as the villain, maybe she should say fewer villainous things and possibly praise the villain a little bit less. Cleo says that whoever did it is awesome, but that she would’ve told everyone if she’d done it. Joe points out that he just told everyone he was putting a sign up and got ignored, so Cleo could easily have told everyone and nobody remembered. Cleo tells Joe that it is different because people listen to Cleo. Joe is not so sure about that. Scar brings up the Big Salmon thing again and Cleo reminds him that all the Hermits present know it was not Beef because of Reasons that she very clearly is not sharing with the Chats. ((This is one day before Beef announced publicly that he and his partner are expecting a baby in October, making him way too busy and preoccupied to be doing much in the way of Glitchering.))

2:14:00 General consensus is that whatever feud happened between Big Wood and Big Salmon, it is old news now anyway. Salmon lives peacefully in the hourglass, after all. Chat is convinced by Cleo’s certainty and no longer thinks it is Beef. Ren and Scar both know it’s not Mumbo, but they wish it were. Cleo and Joe would like it to be Joe. Everyone names one suspect (Cleo names Cub, Cub names Scar, Joe names False, Ren names Joel, Grian does not answer). Scar thanks them and tells them that was entirely unhelpful. Next step is to get a search warrant and look through everyone’s storage. Doc can look through his storage. Cleo laughs at the idea that turning up some deepslate diamond ore in someone’s storage room would prove anything. A chatter says Xisuma, Cleo is super unconvinced, Scar is also not enthusiastic.

2:17:40 Joe says that his favorite best-ever theory is that the SciCraft folks are allied with Doc’s partner Karin to steal the diamonds via Karin accessing Doc’s account. Everyone thinks that idea is very funny. Ren asks if that means Karin needs to come to court and testify. Karin may or may not have a Minecraft account. Scar muses that his brother would absolutely do something like this. One of Ren’s chatters says that, as a wife, they would totally do that. Cleo jokes that this was all a ploy to jumpstart Karin’s YouTube career. Joe thinks it would be an amazing Hermitcraft spinoff, Karin and Mrs. T and Lizzie, but they’re thieves… Ren thinks it might be Lizzie pranking Joel by pranking Doc. That’s a little complex, though. Cleo accuses “Everyone else’s spouses” and says next seasons somebody needs to have their spouse start pranking. Joe warns that now that Cleo has said this, Joe’s fiance Badgerspanner is going to demand to be allowed to do it. Chat pops up with the name “Desperate Hermitwives,” which Scar thinks is very funny. Ren adds “The Real Housewives of Hermitcraft.

2:21:20 Ren has a Bdubs theory: The best way to create business for your brand new courthouse is to create a huge story arc that involves crimes and gets Hermits suing. There is a brief argument over whether court cases cost anything (tips are welcome, according to Bdubs, and there’s definitely been some bribing involved.) Cub points out that the police stand to benefit from an increase in crime. Scar protests that he is the judiciary! Cleo laughs and says of course cops cannot be corrupt. In any case, Scar goes on, he touched Doc’s boring machine, he blew it up, he banged it too hard, and he’s not interested in banging Doc’s redstone anymore.

2:23:20 There is a long moment of silence. Cleo says she is leaving, that it’s been lovely, they should do this again never. Cleo, Cub and Joe leave. Scar confesses to Ren that he’d said the worst thing he could think of to get rid of the others, and it worked! Ren is impressed. Chat is impressed, once they stop losing their minds over what he said in the first place. Ren and Scar have a conversation about who might really be the Ore Snatcher and who is playing “third impostor.” ((Third impostor is Scar’s favorite way to play Among Us, someone who is not a real impostor but who plays like they are in order to sow chaos and confusion.)) Ren makes a reference to the movie The Usual Suspects that Scar does not understand, but it boils down to “the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

2:25:00 Scar and Ren proceed to have the same conversation the large group had earlier about who is a suspect and who is not. They come to no conclusions and eventually realize they have wasted half a Sunday on accomplishing nothing. Grian says in game chat that it’s pretty obvious but then immediately logs out. Joe flies past, right to the door of the armor trim shop and logs out midair. Ren finds this behavior wildly suspicious and accuses Scar of being the worst poe poe for not noticing. Scar admits he’s not very good at being Poe Poe, but he works hard.

2:30:00 Scar tells Ren that he really did have plans today, but the echo threw him off right from the jump. Ren agrees, but the echoing thing was really way too much fun. He is already nostalgic about the fantastic amount of noise that was generated. Scar says again that he can’t be the Glitcher because is so busy, with wheelchair appointments, surgery appointments, and trying to build the Poe Poe HQ. They decide to go look at the new build. Ren tells Scar that he believes Scar is innocent. Chat asks if Scar is okay. Scar says he hopes to be okay by the end of next week. ((Scar has an upcoming surgery scheduled to correct issues in his implanted feeding tube that are causing illness and pain.)) Chat notes that Joe logged out and on quickly again, suspicious behavior!

2:32:00 Scar is too tired to be an investigator, he’d rather be the third impostor, but a good impostor would be making lists of potential suspects (or rascals, as Ren calls them). Ren encourages Scar to start an investigation board with red strings and stuff. He tells the Chat to make one for Scar. Scar shows Ren the countdown clock but won’t let him look at the redstone. He promises Ren that the redstone is definitely doing things, even though he hasn’t decided what he is counting down to yet. Ren suggests eliminating any store that took less than five minutes to build. Scar agrees that’s a good idea and he will run it past Permit Officer Grian, who is a different character than Regular Grian. Now that the POE HQ is done, it’s time to enforce some laws. Chat agrees too, nearly unanimously.

2:36:30 Ren and Scar explore the SD and look at how the pop-up shops are taking up beautiful prime real estate. They definitely need to go. A chatter asks if Keralis has been considered as Ore Snatcher. Ren says Keralis just isn’t enough of a rascal. Thinking about Keralis makes them think of the crab rave though, so they go to see it at Keralis’ base. Cleo made the little crabs a while ago, but now Cub has added the crab rave music and it is pretty great. They spend some time appreciating K’s base, which is gorgeous. Scar wants more airport, but it looks like Keralis does have plans for more of an airstrip. They see the birch forest in the distance and start talking trees. The number and quality of custom trees this season is amazing. Scar is self-conscious because he’s having so much trouble making a redwood tree. Ren admits that his custom trees are actually just copies of Scar’s custom trees, and he’s sure Scar will get it right.

2:41:30 Ren learns that Scar has never seen The Mummy. He is appalled. Chat is appalled. Scar gets really confused when Ren gets confused about whether The Rock was in The Mummy (he was) and also is confused about who The Rock is (Dwayne Johnson). They get super-distracted talking about the movie The Rock, which they both love. Scar had to watch it in secret because his mom thought he was too young. Scar has not seen True Lies, but now he remembers The Mummy, so that’s something. He has not seen The Whale, and Ren has not seen House of Dragons. They talk about how expensive streaming services are. They agree not to talk about VPNs on stream, then do talk about it, but just a little bit. Ren canceled most of his streaming services a few months ago because they were so expensive. YouTube Premium is Ren’s favorite stream service.

2:49:00 The inevitable happens and Scar and Ren start talking about Star Wars. In chat, Grian advises Ren to flee for his life. Scar protests that Ren loves Star Wars and wants to talk about it. Grian is deeply unconvinced, especially when Ren reluctantly admits that it’s 11pm and he does need to sleep. But… he’ll stay just a bit longer. They run around Keralis’ base, looking for a bed and talking about Star Wars. Grian realizes he’s getting sucked in via stream sniping and logs out immediately.

3:01:20 Star Wars talk continues, Hermit Podcast style. Grian logs back in. He has clearly continued his stream sniping and wants to say something about the Jedi wookie. They encourage him to speak his truth. Star Wars talk continues. Grian’s hatred of Star Wars talk has suffered a severe credibility blow, even though he logs off again.

3:25:00 A brief detour out of Star Wars and into Dune. Scar talks about storytelling in Hollywood and the lack of innovation for a few minutes. Some Disney ranting, and a discussion about how sometimes it’s okay to scare kids. It’s good for them. Time to talk about old Disney movies from the golden age of animation. Scar reveals he’s never seen The Land Before Time. Chat is _so_ upset. Ren talks about how he lost his dad when he was six, and cartoon movies that had sadness and loss helped him come to terms with it. It’s important not to take that kind of thing out. The deeper stories and lessons aren’t really there so much anymore and it hollows out the films.

3:40:30 Ren admits that it is almost midnight now and he really does need to go to bed. Scar laughs and agrees that Grian is probably out there somewhere screaming at him to go to bed. Scar compliments the way Ren talks, always interesting and with good things to say. When Ren talks, people listen. Chat loves Ren and the Ren and Scar podcast. Scar promises he’s going to watch Dune. Ren is happy until he realizes that Scar, who does not have access to a TV, will be watching on his iPad. Ren thinks that is criminal. He nearly swears. Scar adds that he will be using airpods. Ren is so sad. Scar holds forth for a minute about how Airpods are just not as good as a headset with a jack. Ren points out that there is also a difference between an iPad and a cinema screen. Scar laughs. They do a bit of old-man complaining about how movies don’t look good on computer screens. Ren asks if Scar really doesn’t have a TV in his house. Scar explains that it’s inconvenient, either he’s stuck in his wheelchair or he has to go through the entire process of transferring to a chair or couch, getting strapped in there, it’s a whole thing. His headphones fall off mid-description. Ren suggests he could stay in his wheelchair, get a blanket, get some popcorn, wait, no popcorn, and just enjoy the film. Scar points out some more logistical concerns involving bathroom breaks and says it’s much easier to watch in bed on the iPad. Ren admits he is a hypocrite, he watched Hermitcraft videos on his phone in bed. (Chat feels very seen.) They talk about the high price of iPads. Chat calls Scar an iPad kid, to his protests. Ren is mad that his old tablet is bricked because of lack of software updates. They agree that should be illegal.

At least they get to live in Minecraft, where things are nice.

3:47:40 Ren really needs to go to bed. For real this time. Scar follows him back to his base, still talking until Ren insists that he stop talking and go away or he will never get any sleep. Scar flies back to the train and thanks subs and donos. He did not get everything (anything) done that he planned to this stream, but he will probably try and stream tomorrow as well. Surgery is definitely planned for next week and hopefully a little less intense than originally planned. If things go well, it will not be under general anesthetic and that should keep him out of the ICU. The surgery itself is not such a big deal, but the sedation is the issue. Hopefully this surgery will correct what was done wrong in 2021 and 2022.

3:51:20 A chatter donates $100 for Scar to buy some new headphones and let the old ones go to the farm. Scar promises that this is the last time Chat will see the old headphones. They’re getting buried in the backyard. He’s just weirdly sentimental about a few things. The sunglasses he lost last year and these headphones. But it is time. Scar’s goal is to get the surgery done and then get the new wheelchair (which he has finally been measured for). It will be smaller, lighter and more comfortable. Chatters send in dono messages of love and support. They also have opinions on movies.

3:56:00 Scar reassures Chat that this surgery will not be like last time when he was out for months. This surgery is much smaller. A chatter sends a dono message with train talk. Scar is enthusiastic about train talk. He reminds Chat that he lives near a real-life permit office and shows off the dig progress on Magic Mountain. Every scrap of dirt has been removed and saved for later. Beyond IRL things, Scar has to do the POE HQ interior, Doc’s investigation, landscape the area around the train, and add the caboose, which will be floated in on balloons. The mini-mountain needs to come down and Magic Mountain needs to be dug out. The zoo must be built and Scar has several shops to build. He has so much to do! Some chatters mention the Jellie plushie and Scar admits inflation has made it really hard to make merch. Anything good costs so much money these days!

4:00:00 A chatter asks for names for their dark oak forest. Scar throws it open to the Chat, who are full of ideas. Scar likes “Mythwood.” He shares one last thought: Universal’s Monsters Land is so cool. Scar is very happy about it and thinks it is great. He switches back to studio view, says this is probably the weirdest stream he’s ever done, and that he hopes to do more streams this week. Nobody Scar knows is streaming so he doesn’t raid, just ends his stream.

#hermitcraft #stream recap #goodtimeswithscar #rendog #cubfan135 #joe hills #docm77 #tall claims court #not tagging cleo cause they mentioned finding the stream recap thing weird #so i'm pulling back and keeping it out of their face whenever i can because it seems polite

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thebirdscomeback · 3 months ago

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okay, I think it's time to crack open my copy of MAAN and start doing some feminist analysis!

I want to think about how Claudio's accusations demonstrate a deep-rooted misogyny that goes further than slut-shaming (although that in itself is of course horrible) and is based off of pervasive ideas of gender, sexuality and heteronormativity. Ideas so pervasive in fact, that they transcend contextual and historical boundaries and we are left in 2014 with the same misogynistic expectations of women we were dealing with in 1599.

I’ll start with gendered expectations of sex, as inspired by @cardboardsean's awesome post on the topic. If we accept that Hero and Claudio aren’t having sex (which is explicit in the text) then Claudio’s anger takes on a layer of self-righteousness, of ‘deserving’ the sex he’s not getting, from a girl who should, on account of dating him, inherently want sex with him. Taking the idea that Hero’s virginity is something she ‘owns’ and can be ‘lost’ or ‘given’, heterosexual relationship dynamics assert that there is a correct person to whom to hand it over. And while of course cheating would be hurtful either way and in any context, the specifically gendered language and implications of Claudio’s accusation filled with metaphors of spoiled fruit in MAAN and promises in NMTD introduce virginity as a reason why Hero’s supposed transgression is particularly egregious.

Something I noticed more acutely watching this time around in real time is how little we see of Hero and Claudio after they get together. After the makeup tutorial, we hardly see them together as a couple and it seemed odd at first, making the audience feel less connected when we see them fall apart. On closer consideration though, it feels like an accurate representation of the path of their relationship and what is important to Claudio especially. For him, his struggle is getting the girl, and once he ‘has’ her, the hard part is over. Heteronormative ideas of relationships and marriage, where the man has to put in the work of courting and the woman has to put in the work of being the wife leave no expectation for the man to be a husband in any material sense. His job doesn’t require any upkeep of the relationship and this seems to be the figuration Claudio is acting under as well. He doesn’t talk to Hero about their sex life, or his concerns about her cheating; in fact, given his readiness to believe anything of her, it would seem he hardly talks to her about anything at all. It comes back to the discussions a few of the characters have around Pedro’s party. Most of them understand that Hero cannot be ‘had’ as if she’s property, but Claudio never quite seems to get the message. He brings up Hero and Pedro again at Hero’s party; he knows he was wrong but can’t let go of the idea that she was close to being ‘taken’ by another man (again, back to virginity). From Claudio’s perspective, it feels like he believes he won her before Pedro could. And well, if a girl is your property, you can treat her however you like, right?

Along with her virginity, Hero’s attractiveness is used as another means to prove her guiltiness; a classic means of judging a woman’s morality. Play!Claudio uses it directly as a way to prove just how awful Hero really is, “If half thy outward graces had been placed about thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!”. Appearance has long been used as a judge for women’s moral character, although there can be no winning (Heflick et al. 2011) (so glad to be paying so much money for university so i can reference my nmtd posts, it's all worth it!). While ‘ugliness’ has been used as a measure for a lack of morality, Hero’s beauty comes to demonstrate just how duplicitous she really is - she's a bitch and looks good while doing it! NMTD uses Hero’s sweet sixteenth as a way of really emphasizing this comparison of beauty and morality; she’s wearing the dress she’s been saving for a special occasion; she’s made herself look particularly pretty and girlish, highlighting a gendered innocence which will make Claudio’s accusation hit all the harder. Her baby blue dress stands in for marital (virginal) white, a teenage version of a bride who is judged primarily on her innocence, beauty and morality in the eyes of her husband.

Within this concept of gendered morality sits the idea that women are inherently sinful, yet something to attempt to keep pure at all costs. The (almost painful) heteronormativity of Hero and Claudio’s relationship comes up here again and Hero’s hyper-femininity, not only in looks but in manner is weaponised against her to demonstrate the extent of her moral failing. She performs her role of girl within perfect expectations – passive, mild and modest – which is used to dichotomise her ‘true’ nature. She appears chaste but in reality she is “more intemperate in your blood than Venus or those pampered animals that rage in savage sensuality”, as play!Claudio tells her. Here, Claudio invokes the highest form of female sexual energy, Venus, to assert the absolute inherence of woman’s untampered sin; not human but animal. And of course, Hero’s niceness means she has to be hiding something – if girls are being too nice they’ve got to secretly be a bitch, “you put on this fake little face. but underneath it, you're just a fucking slut”. Niceness, in a girl, then becomes both expected (god forbid she actually is a bitch) and untrustworthy. The immorality must be hiding somewhere, ready to show itself. And this passivity ties itself back to sex. If a girl is passive then she must be receiving sex from whoever wants it from her, and Robbie represents the perfect stand-in. He has all the normative masculinity Claudio doesn’t – confidence, bravado and sex drive. If Hero is the ‘perfect’ image of female passivity, then Robbie is the ‘ideal’ male figure to use that passivity. And again, Hero is Venus, she must be having sex with someone.

#nmtd #nmtdaily

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years ago

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When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #Coco Cruz #Coco Cruz x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #reader insert

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idontblushsrry · 4 years ago

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Kyoya Ootori||SFW Alphabet

A/N: Here’s Kyoya 4 more to go!

Word Count: 1753

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kyoya shows affection very subtly. Honestly you might feel like you’re stuck in a Victorian novel especially at the beginning of your relationship. He’ll brush his hand along the back of yours and then smile at you like oh that was intentional, ok. He’s really trying his best, but he’s not very obvious with his affection, all of his love tends to be conveyed through words and actions of caring.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Kyoya is lowkey a gossip. He’s not going to tell everyone what information he has but if you come up to him complaining about how so and so was bothering you, he’s already got a journal full of secrets and he’s ready to ruin someone’s career.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Kyoya likes to cuddle but he prefers to be the big spoon, this is solely because he doesn’t want to be woken up early just because you had to go to the bathroom or something. He only cuddles during night time and if you do wake up before him, he’s pretty easily fooled if you just replace your body with a pillow.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He definitely wants to settle own, not just because of his family and him feeling like he’s obligated to settle down, but also just because he’s a traditional person in the sense that he wants to marry the person he fell in love with. As for domestic skills, Kyoya can’t cook or clean for SHIT. The only skill he’s got is probably managing finances and things along those lines but if you asked him to cook, he’d somehow find a way to burn water, just a bad time for everyone involved.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Kyoya doesn’t break up with you via text message (or letter if he’s feeling fancy), he honestly probably just tells you upfront that he doesn’t view your relationship as something he has a vested interest in continuing. Ouch.

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment for Kyoya has always ben somewhat of an obligation. He feels like he has to propose to you if you’re relationship is becoming serious. He’ll discuss it with you of course, but the man is very committed to those he loves and what better way to show that than marriage?

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Not very physically gentle, again, he’s just not very physically affectionate. When he does initiate physical affection with you it’s always with a measure of unsureness and caution. Emotionally, he’s a bit more gentle. Kyoya looks for the type of person who can keep up with him especially intellectually, with him it’s like no words are needed, you both just get it.

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Kyoya’s hugs kinda suck. He doesn’t give them often, let alone initiate them, and if you hug him, he’ll just stand there kinda surprised and at a loss for what to do. At least he’s nice to hug, he’s got this cologne that smells like a warm fireplace during a winter storm that smells so comforting.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

You definitely say ‘I love you’ before Kyoya. He expresses his love through tender gazes and lovesick smiles so he definitely assumes you get the message. However, if you express to Kyoya that you’d like to hear him say that he loves you, he’ll oblige.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

Kyoya doesn’t really get jealous, it’s not a matter of arrogance, more like, he knows that you’re with him and he’s with you. He doesn’t act out either on the off chance that he does get jealous because he was raised to bottle things up. In fact, the most Kyoya’s ever been jealous was in the beginning of your relationship/before you were dating where he was sure someone was gonna come by and sweep you away.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The way Kyoya kisses is by cradling your face and just kinda going for it. He prefers to kiss you on the lips but he doesn’t mind placing them elsewhere if things get more intimate.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Kyoya kind of sucks around children. He’s not rude to them or anything of that sort but he just doesn’t find himself having anything in common with them and doesn’t really care for the topics they find interesting.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Kyoya depend on if he’s off or not. If he has work or an early morning obligation of some sort, you’ll probably have to wake him up. He sets alarms but he’ll just swat at his alarm and then go back to bed, can’t exactly do that with your s/o now can you? However, if he has the day off or doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t let you leave the bed until he’s ready to wake up. He’s surprisingly hard to move when he’s dead asleep like that.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Kyoya, he tends to stay up late and then just pass out on the nearest surface. If you happen to be awake long enough or pass him on the way to the kitchen/bathroom/etc., please move him into your bed. He will complain about his back problems if you don’t, if you can’t move him (which fair tbh he does deadweight) please give him a blanket and pillow, when he wakes up, it means the world to him.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Kyoya reveals things very gradually to you over time, he’s a very layered person and while certain aspects of his true personality may bubble up, you’re gonna have to put the full picture together on your own. Unless you’re like Tamaki and can just see through all his bs.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Kyoya is actually pretty easy to anger. This is because of his no nonsense attitude as well as his general grumpiness with the world. Although, no anger can top Kyoya’s anger from being woken up early.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Kyoya remembers every detail you’re willing to share with him. He writes most of it in his notebook but somethings he likes to keep to himself and surprise you with later on.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship was when you suggested your next date be at a flower viewing. Kyoya initially thought it might just be like a boring “commoner” thing to do but as the date went on, he ended up really enjoying himself. The sight of you surrounded by flowers was also a plus

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Kyoya’s family has essentially a private police force, in addition he also has personal guards, best believe, you are protected. Don’t even worry about trying to protect him either, he has people on payroll for that

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Kyoya puts a lot of effort into dates, anniversaries, and gifts. The man always knows when there’s a special occasion coming up and has already planned for every step of the day. As for dates in general, he likes to spoil you. He has absolutely no problem with flying you to somewhere like Okinawa for example, just because

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

A bad habit Kyoya has is that he tends to try and test people and their limits with no prompting. He’s very secretive in general so that plus his sudden decisions to test people can lead to some bad arguments. The worst argument you’ve gotten into to date is when he suddenly started flirting back with his guests during the regular day and you got jealous and snapped.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Kyoya is concerned with his looks in the sense that he has a reputation to uphold. He’s not arrogant by any means but he does take pride in looking good. Plus Tamaki recommended a skin care routine to him once and now he’s hooked

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He views you as his better, he doesn’t feel incomplete without you but he can feel himself turning back into his sort of middle school self pre-Tamaki when you aren’t around.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

He has no previous relationship experience. He has experience flirting of course and he’s had crushes before but he’s new to this, please be gentle.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

Kyoya doesn’t like people with forceful personalities. He tolerates it for the sake of being polite and his image if nothing else but this man cannot stand when people are pushy and always have to get their way. He also hates boring people.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Canonically Kyoya is a heavy sleeper, this can be kind of an issue at times. He’s a hard worker who stays up late on things he’s passionate about which means he might fall asleep on whatever’s closest. There’s been more than one occasion where you’ve walked over to him sound asleep on his laptop with a document covered in keysmash from where he slumped on the computer.

#sfw alphabet #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya headcanon #ohshc imagines #ohshc x reader #ohshc kyoya x reader #x black reader #idontblushsrry

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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this is random but today was my birthday and it wasn't as good as I hoped it would be. most of my family members seemed to forget all about it and almost no one sent me a text or anything like that, which really sucked and sort of made me feel sad and unwanted?? so that wasn't great :(

this might sound silly and really pathetic but I was sort of hoping that you could write me a little thing about how [ insert pedro boy of your choice because I just need some comfort right now and im not picky ] definitely would NOT forget about my birthday and try to make me feel better about this on my special day?? only if you want to though.

- ✨

Rose Petals (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Javier never forgets a date. You’re going to have a wonderful birthday.

W/C: 1.3k

Warnings: food, alcohol, brief mention of death, probably language, innuendo, otherwise totally fluff

A/N: BABE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I’m so sorry it wasn’t good and I hope this can make up for it at least a little.

Javier Peña is a man who never forgets a date. It’s like he has a tiny little calendar ingrained in his brain. The man is endlessly busy, swamped with files and papers and so much knowledge it would take up the whole embassy to store it on paper, but dates come easily to him.

He remembers the day his mother died. That was in late August. He remembers the date of your first kiss, the first time he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close and moved your lips to his. That was about a year ago this time now. And Javier always especially remembers your birthday.

His work schedule is hard. Javier’s always at work, it feels like, but he adores you when he’s at home. He’s a good cook; he’ll make the two of you dinner and cuddle on the couch after, do whatever you’d like until he eventually asks that the two of you go to bed. Even though he’s working his ass off, some nights absolutely drowning in paperwork he has no choice but to bring home, he always puts you first.

You’d spoiled him on his birthday. That’s part of what he loves about you: how above and beyond you go for him. To you, it was nothing extravagant; you gave him a massage, cooked dinner and bought a nice bottle of whiskey to go with it. You got him new shirts, a nice watch, and a new cologne.

To Javier, it was the entire world. Most of his birthdays were spent alone or with a prostitute to hide his anxiety over getting older. Very few things you’ve ever seen could compare to the look on the stoic man’s face when you walked out from the kitchen holding an iced, sprinkled, layered, candle-topped cake singing happy birthday. He almost cried, he had to admit. Javier never expected to have love like this, like Steve and Connie do, like his parents did. He insisted you sit on his lap to eat, no matter how much you tried to protest.

Javier wants to spoil you equally. The problem is that he doesn’t exactly know… well, how. He’s gotten you a few presents, things you’ve mentioned in passing or that he thought you’d like. He has them stored in his closet beneath his work clothes. But you do so much for him, Javier feels it’s only fair he returns the favor.

Your birthday falls on a weekday this year, sadly enough. Javier wants nothing more than to pamper you in bed all day, but that’s not possible for either of you.

What you wake to on your birthday is an empty bed. Disappointing. Rolling over and reaching for Javier, you find nothing. It makes you sigh softly, out of sadness, but a smell of cooking fills the aid and you hope it’s something good.

It is. Javier has the oven running, with just two minutes left. There’s a full pot of coffee on the counter, and scrambled eggs on the stovetop. There’s a note, written in Javier’s scribbled handwriting.

Happy birthday, mi amor. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight. Hope you like the food. Call me when you get the chance.

-J

Clutching the note to your chest, you grin and laugh a little. Javier’s a romantic at heart, even if it took a while for him to show that to you. You pull the cinnamon rolls from the oven and turn it off, taking a deep whiff of the pastries and relaxing. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you wait for the food to cool.

Both you and Javier end up having long days. Your work is busy, leaving you hardly any time to breathe, much less to call him. His gesture fills your heart all day, and you find yourself smiling a little when you have the time to take a moment.

None of your coworkers remember your birthday. It stings a little at first, but the amount you care fades as the day goes on. With the hustle and bustle of your workplace, you hardly have the time to remember that it’s your own birthday. Even during lunch, you’re working tirelessly, and don’t have the chance to call Javier.

Javi wanted to call you first, to wish you a happy birthday vocally, but he gets sent out on a street mission to find someone in the morning. When he and Steve return to the embassy, there’s paperwork to be filed, reports to be typed, everything.

It doesn’t matter that he has a desk covered in tasks. When the clock strikes 4, an hour before you’ll be home, Javier shuts his file. “Cover for me?” he asks Steve.

“Depends,” the man drawls, twisting a cigarette between his fingers. “Why?”

“It’s my girl’s birthday,” Javier shakes his head at Steve’s attitude and pulls his leather jacket on. “I’ll stay as long as I need to tomorrow, but I’m going home now. See you tomorrow, Murph.”

“Good luck, Peña. Don’t break the bed,” he calls after him as the dark-haired man walks off. Javier doesn’t bother to reply.

When he enters your apartment, Javier gets to work instantly. Lighting candles, sprinkling rose petals, everything. You always mention how romantic that looks when you make him watch those cheesy rom-coms with you, and Javier has to admit it does look lovely when he’s finished. The last thing to do is open a bottle of wine, pour two glasses, and wait. It won’t take long- the decor took a while.

When your key turns in the doorknob, Javier jumps up from the couch and rushes to the door, holding a rose. “Happy birthday,” he finally gets to tell you, capturing your lips in a kiss before you can say thanks.

When he breaks away, you smile and go to thank him, but he beats you to the punch, taking your coat and bag. “How was work today?”

“It was… oh, Javi,” you laugh, admiring the beauty of the apartment. “Oh my god, you made it look so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he flirts, which makes you roll your eyes. “You always talk about how much you love this in the movies,” he shrugs, taking your hand and leading you to the table. He pulls out a chair for you. “Thought we should try.”

“You’re too good to me,” you chuckle and take the wine sitting in front of you, taking a sip and sighing.

“You’re too good for me,” Javi refutes and kisses your head. He sits down across from you, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles. “Happy birthday, amor. I have the whole night planned for us. For you, really.”

“Javi,” you laugh, smiling at the romantic gestures around you. He’s never this openly loving, and you really don’t mind. “This doesn’t feel… you.”

“Well, it’s you, and I’m more than willing to compromise,” he says with a gentle smile. There’s a plate of appetizers on the table, and he snatches one. When he talks again, through a mouthful of food, you recognize your usual Javi. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“I already do,” you assure him with a wide grin. “Thank you, baby. I love you so much.”

“Anything for you,” he assures you and drinks his wine. “I love you too. Now, I’m going to get dinner cooking. You just sit and relax.”

“Will do,” you chuckle and slump down in your chair.

Javier walks past and kisses your head one more time. “Happy birthday, baby.”

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos #✨ anon

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x reader #Lucifer x reader #Mammon x reader #Leviathan x reader #levi x reader #Satan x Reader #Asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #Beelzebub x reader #Belphegor x reader #Belphie x reader

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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Suga We’re Going Down

part 5

masterlist

alright my darlings! here it is, and its a long one! and I have some links for you today! you can visit the National Palace Museum here! The website allows you to virtually explore this beautiful museum! as well as a link to the song she plays later in the chapter here. Enjoy, my darlings!--- chaotic puff

Everything was better when she was with Eun Jae. Her little guy was her favorite person in the world. Halmeoni was confused as to why she was spending a Monday night at the house, but she allowed it without too many questions. It was one of the things that Y/N loved the most about the old woman. She knew when to push, and when to let things lie. Halmeoni knew that she was knew that Y/N would talk to her when she was ready, and Eun Jae was happy to have his mother there with him.

He was a sweet kid. He really was, and there was nothing she loved more than cuddling up with him, but their little bubble had to burst eventually. The next day came too quickly for her, and much to her horror, Jackson was waiting for her outside when she and Eun Jae left the house both with their backpacks on.

“Miss Kang.” He greeted smile bright on his face until he caught sight of the toddler hanging onto her hand. His expression dropped into one of shock before a softer smile crept across his features. “Hi, buddy.” He greeted bowing slightly to the toddler who immediately hid behind his mother’s leg. Jackson was unphased though. “My name is Jackson. What’s yours?”

Eun Jae looked up at her as if asking for confirmation that it was okay to interact with this stranger. She nodded giving him a soft smile of her own as she gently pushed him forward. “Go on.” She encouraged not wanting to be rude. It was important to her that Eun Jae grew up with good manners. She did not want him to end up like his parents or her parents for that matter.

“I’m Eun Jae.” The toddler muttered ducking his head quickly before burying his face in her leg again.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eun Jae.” Jackson stood up rubbing his neck as he glanced back at the car. “We’re going to need to get a car seat installed.”

Y/N froze. “You’re not going to have to tell Mr. Min about this, are you?”

Jackson’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mr. Min doesn’t know?” She shook her head. “I don’t…”

She glanced down at Eun Jae making sure he was distracted before she started speaking to Jackson her voice low and rushed. “He’s my sister’s kid. She walked out, so he’s mine now. Mr. Min doesn’t need to know about him. My family doesn’t affect him.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. Family was family. Business was business. He could respect her wish to keep her family out of it, and the fierce spark in her eye was enough to convince him that he didn’t want to mess with her when it came to her family.

“I won’t lie to him, but I won’t tell him either.” He promised. “Do you have a car seat we can use for now?” She shook her head no. “Okay…” He thought for a moment. “We could….”

“I’m not taking him in that car without a car seat.” She snapped seeing the direction his thoughts were going. “We’ll take the bus like we normally do, and if you really want to drive us, you can come pick us up, with a car seat, at the end of the day.” She nodded giving him a firm glare before she smile turning back to the toddler. “Let’s go to the bus stop, buddy. Say bye-bye to, Mr. Wang.”

Eun Jae unburied his head from her leg and waved goodbye shyly.

“Bye, Eun Jae.” Jackson waved with a smile of his own as Y/N led the little one away a little more quickly than she would have normally.

She just wanted everything to go back to normal, but it was too late for that now. She’d already signed the deal, and everything else would have to wait until they were back on their feet and far away enough from financial ruin that there was no need for her to be signed away to Min Yoongi. But that was a long way off as of yet. For now, she’d focus on Eun Jae and classes. There was no use worrying over things she couldn’t change.

She dropped Eun Jae off at his preschool and then made her way to her own school. She’d see him later. She’d promised Halmeoni that she would drop him back off, as she had a doctor’s appointment today and couldn’t pick him up herself, and neither of them trusted her father to get him from school. If they did that, Eun Jae would never get picked up, and they would receive a very angry phone call from the preschool wondering why no one had come for Eun Jae.

Thankfully the day passed much as it always did up until her classes were over, and then there was Jackson waiting for her with that damned car.

Despite her sour look, he met her with a smile.

“I got the car seat!” He announced proudly as he opened the door to the backseat for her.

“I can see that.” She sighed as she slipped inside. “It’s a bit early to pick up Eun Jae yet.” She informed him. “I usually go home after class, but Halmeoni can’t pick him up today.” She explained.

“Well, what would you like to do in the mean time?” He asked as they pulled away from her university. She was silent thinking it over, and Jackson was suddenly struck by how young she was. She looked a little lost sitting there in the back of a car that was much too large for just one person. “Perhaps, we could go to spoil you for a moment.” He suggested.

“What do you mean?” She asked staring at him in the rear view mirror.

“Well, you have to go meet Mr. Min eventually, and he would want you to treat yourself.” He shrugged. “Get your hair done, your nails. Go buy yourself something nice. It’s on his dime.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I really don’t think…?”

“You’re Agust D’s girl now. You have to look like Agust D’s girl. And you never know when he’s gonna call for your first date. Don’t worry. He’ll pay for it.”

She hadn’t thought about that. Technically, Yoongi was responsible for her clothing budget, but would it be added onto her payment like a reimbursement or did it only cover the things he wanted her to wear? But then again, Jackson said it was covered, and he’d been so nice. Maybe it would be okay to do something for herself. She was meant to look a certain way, she supposed.

“So what’s it gonna be, chickadee?” He asked flashing her a smile in the mirror.

“Nails maybe?” She fidgeted uncomfortably not knowing what to do. It felt odd to have access to someone else’s bank account.

“Nails it is.” Jackson nodded driving them off in the direction of the nearest nail salon.

As weird as it all was, she had to admit it was nice to get her nails done. She never had them done before, not professionally at least, and this was better than anything she’d ever been able to do on herself. She was musically inclined, not artistically, but there was still a feeling of guilt, of spending money on herself when her family needed the money far more than she needed a manicure. Her nails were never long anyway. Musicians didn’t normally keep long nails. It was odd to see them painted so prettily.

Staring down at her nails she had to wonder if this was going to be her life now. Would she have to look all put together all the time? Would she be constantly worrying that Yoongi would find out about Eun Jae? She didn’t want to be constantly worrying. She knew worry. She already had too much to worry about, and worry was exhausting. She couldn’t afford to be any more exhausted than she already was. There was too much to do these days.

She glanced down at her phone wondering when her first summons would come in. He had promised she’d be seeing him soon, but when was soon? Did they start having their meetings this week or next week? Either way she was expected to meet with him at least three times a week, not counting extra meetings he could ask for. Those at least she could refuse so long as she had a good reason, but she was smart. She was sure she could get out of a good majority of the extra meetings so long as Yoongi didn’t catch onto her dodging him.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid all extra meetings, but she could dodge some of them. She’d have to. She needed time with Eun Jae, and she knew that weekends would be hard to balance between Yongi and Eun Jae especially when she hadn’t told Yoongi about Eun Jae’s existence. They were the two men in her life even if Yoongi’s stay was only temporary. That did not make him any less a part of her life though. For now, at least, he was quite a major part of her life, and she’d have to treat him as such.

“Where to now, miss?” Jackson asked pulling her out of her thoughts.

“The preschool.” She gave him the address with a strained smile as she began to wonder how she was going to balance everything out. She had other jobs. She had school. She had Eun Jae. She knew this was the best way to settle their debts, but what had she been thinking when she’d agreed to this? How was she ever going to make this work?

Jackson took her home after they dropped off Eun Jae with Halmeoni. She rather unfortunately had a date to prepare for. She’d gotten the text while she’d been signing Eun Jae out of preschool. It was short, precise, a simple message saying for her to be ready by seven o’clock and the promise that appropriate attire would be delivered to her home. Other than that and a promise from Jackson Yoongi and his driver would pick her up later, she knew nothing.

When she arrived home, she was met with a package on her doorstep. She had to give it to him, he was nothing if not efficient. There was still hours before she expected him, but it at least gave her time to get ready even if he hadn’t told her where they were going.

The box contained a modernized hanbok. The top was done in layers. The first was white, and undershirt. The second was in a lovely shade of purple that trailed down towards her knees, and the last layer was a black jacket type piece. There was a black pair of pants to match, and a thick traditional style belt to tie everything together. There was also a pair of ankle boots which to her immense relief looked comfortable. The heel was thick and not too high. She could actually walk in them. Anything too tall or with a stiletto was always a bit of a challenge for her. The next thing she picked out where the two smaller boxes that contained her jewelry for the evening. One was a pair of lovely earrings, the other was a hair pin. It was a lovely piece with the main part crafted too look like a branch while the decorative piece at the end was fashioned into tiny silver leaves and little off shooting branches that surrounded a smooth round piece of jade with a silver stripe slashed through the middle. It reminded her of the moon.

There was one final thing in the box that caused her to laugh in disbelief. There sitting in the bottom of the box was something she had skipped over when she was looking at the hanbok and the shoes and jewelry, but there sitting at the bottom of the box, was a coat. It was a long thick wool coat that would hang down to her mid-calf. At the very bottom of the box, underneath the coat there was a note written in short quick strokes. The letters scrunched together slightly. It was the handwriting of someone who was used to writing in a hurry.

Because you won’t wear mine.

She had to laugh at that. He was respecting her wish not to wear his coat while at the same time taking care of his worry over her own coat. It was as sneaky as it was caring, and even she had to admit that it was a better coat than the one she had. It was warmer and better quality. And she very begrudgingly had to admit that she loved the entire outfit especially the coat.

She passed the first few hours till her date on homework. She had to get it done at some point after all. Even if she was a sugar baby now, school came first. School what was going to help in the long run, not Yoongi, but that didn’t mean she detested lesson planning any less. It was a necessary evil even if it left her wondering for the thousandth time why she had chosen to go into education.

Homework could only keep her occupied for so long though. Eventually, she had to get ready. It was simple enough. All she had to do was throw on the provided outfit, slap on some makeup, and pull her hair up into a bun sticking the hair pin through it, but then she was left to twiddle her thumbs as the minutes ticked by until Yoongi’s arrival.

In hindsight, she had begun getting ready too early. Now she had all this time on her hands to sit and think about what she was about to do. She had always been a worrier, and years of experience had taught her it wasn’t good to sit with her thoughts when she was nervous. The pent up nervous energy had her pacing the floor as she revisited the urge to tear her hair out from the roots. She hated that feeling, the feeling that your stomach is trying to crawl out of your throat. Worse than that, she felt as though she was going to crawl out of her own skin. She was buzzing with nerves.

Part of her couldn’t wait for Yoongi to arrive just to get this first date over with, but another more prominent part of her hoped that he would never arrive. But it was too late for thoughts like that, wasn’t it? She’d already signed the contract, and she was bound to it for a year. She could survive a year. It wasn’t like Yoongi was a creepy old man. He was young and handsome too. He was even kind, from what she had seen at least, and yet something just wasn’t right. He made her just the tiniest bit uneasy, and she couldn’t place her finger on why.

There was nothing about Yoongi that should have made her uneasy. He had been nothing but kind to her so far, but that didn’t stop that spark of unease telling her something was not quite right. She was determined to brush it off as nerves though. It had to be nerves just jumping to the worst case scenario as her mind was prone to do. She could blame that lovely habit on her wonderful parents. They hadn’t been a shining example of a good life. Something was always wrong when it came to them, and they’d taught her to expect the worst. It was almost a relief really that her mother was gone. She didn’t show up often, but when she did, she always brought trouble with her, and they really couldn’t afford any more trouble at the moment.

There was a knock on her door that pulled her out of her thoughts with a jump. That had to be him. With a deep steadying breath she got up and made her way to the door making sure to pull the coat closed around her before she did. There was nothing revealing about the outfit that he’d picked out, but she still felt exposed, but that had to be nerves as well. He made her nervous in a way that was completely different than the unease he gave her.

It was his eyes. Those eyes seemed to see straight through her without ever revealing anything about himself. They were almost catlike. He reminded her of a stray that used to hang outside of the restaurant. He was an old ornery creature, scruffed up from one too many fights with the other cats, but he had those same eyes. He’d stare at you as though he knew everything about you, and as a child, Y/N really believed it. She had been convinced that the cat knew all the secrets of the universe. Halmeoni had done nothing to dispel that belief either. She’d treated that scruffy old tomcat as though he was a prince. She’d told her that cats were bad luck, and that the old tomcat was a bad spirit. She kept the animal fed and watered as a way to appease the bad spirit. Now as an adult, Y/N wasn’t so sure that the cat hadn’t been a bad spirit. Her family certainly hadn’t had much good luck over the years, but it also wasn’t as bad as it could be.

Yoongi was like that cat. He, or at the very least the situation, was bad, but it wasn’t as bad as it could be. She doubted though that Yoongi was a bad spirit come to torment her family. He was honestly the best luck they had had in a while even if it wasn’t in an ideal way.

She opened the door with a smile and was met with Yoongi standing there waiting for her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hi.” She murmured shuffling her feet awkwardly.

“Hi.” He murmured back offering her his arm with a small almost imperceptible smile of his own. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

She took Yoongi’s arm and let him lead her towards the elevator. “I see you got the coat.”

“I did.” She agreed suppressing an awkward smile not sure what to say or do with herself. “It’s very nice, thank you.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to want mine.”

“Oh!” She groaned before looking at him apologetically. “I completely forgot to give that back to you. I can run back up…”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted his lips quirking up a little bit on edges. “You should keep it.”

“It’s really fine!” She rushed. “I can just take the elevator back up. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Keep it.” He insisted his first actual smile of the evening stretching across his lips. “It looked good on you.”

He found the stunned expression on her face cute. Everything about her was cute, especially the blush that heated up her cheeks as she averted her eyes. She was just so innocent. How could anyone not like her? How could all those people in her life leave her in the mess that was her life? How could her family have put her in this position to begin with? On the one hand he was grateful that they had. It meant that he got her. But on the other hand, he was just so angry on her behalf. She was too sweet to for her family. They didn’t deserve her, sweet soul that she was.

“So, where are we going?” She asked as they walked out to the car.

“It’s a surprise.”

The drive wasn’t terribly long, but it was quiet. Neither she nor Yoongi were much for small talk. He didn’t seem the kind for small talk, and the jitters had left her grasping at straws for something to say. Coming up empty, she settled on silence. It was mercifully not an awkward silence though. She kept her attention on the city going by outside the window, and Yoongi, unbeknownst to her, kept his attention on her until they reached their destination.

“The museum?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of the car. “It closes at six doesn’t it?” She turned to him in confusion, tugging her coat tighter around herself to ward of the evening chill.

“I rented it.” He shrugged wrapping an arm around her waist as he saw her shiver. He couldn’t do much for her until they got inside, but he could offer her what little body heat he could with a simple gesture.

“You rented the National Palace Museum?” She asked staring at him with wide eyes as he steered them towards the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Yep.”

“Just like that?” “Just like that.” He nodded leading her up the stairs. “I need to do some research for an upcoming mv. Thought it would be more fun with company.”

“So you rented the museum?”

The concept was mind boggling for her. Who rented a museum? She knew he was famous, but couldn’t he go to the museum like a normal person? Plenty of celebrities went out. A hat and a face mask worked well as a disguise, and no one would be expecting Agust d at the National Palace Museum. It didn’t exactly fit his image. The big tough rapper going to the museum? She didn’t think so. His fans wouldn’t exactly be looking for him there.

“Seemed like a nice date, and you don’t seem like the kind of girl who goes to clubs.” He shrugged again as the climbed the steps.

She bristled at that. “I go where you want me to go.” She sniffed straightening her spine. She knew she shouldn’t be offended. She wasn’t the kind of girl that went to clubs, but she was bristling anyway.

“I didn’t mean it badly.” He chuckled looking down at her fondly. “But this seemed like a better option, and I’d appreciate the company.”

She sighed forcing herself to relax as they reached the top of the stairs. “So what kind of mv are you making that needs research at the National Palace Museum?”

“It’s for a track called Daechwita. I wanted a historical vibe for it.”

“Daechwita is a traditional type of music.” She nodded understandingly. “Military march or royal procession type of vibe?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of her coat once they got inside.

“Bit of both.” His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of her in the outfit he had picked out for her. It looked better than he had imagined it would.

The layers of the hanbok draped around her elegantly while the colors complimented her skin and hair wonderfully. It wasn’t sexy per say, but it was extremely hot to see her in something he had bought for her. His mind was already whirring with the possibility of all the things he could fill their wardrobe with. He planned on spoiling her rotten.

He liked seeing her hair pulled up as well. It exposed the length of her neck to him. He couldn’t wait to mark up that neck. She’d look so good covered in his marks, but she wasn’t ready for that yet, but soon.

“Then we’d better start researching.” She smiled eyes sparkling with excitement as Yoongi shed his own coat.

She couldn’t lie. She really did prefer the museum to the club, and the idea of being able to wander the museum after hours with no one else around was too exciting to pass up.

Yoongi grinned following after her as she wandered off into the first exhibition room.

He didn’t have to follow for long though as he found her just past the doors examining the first of the exhibits, a painted screen and a throne.

“Joseon Dynasty.” She said her arms folded comfortably around her. “The museum focuses mostly on the Joseon Dynasty. This screen, well the scene on the screen there are two more upstairs, traditionally sat behind the throne of the king.” She explained her eyes glued to the painted silk in front of them.

“It’s not a very intimidating throne.” He commented stepping up next to her. “Doesn’t look comfortable either.”

“Well, if you were king, you could make your throne look however you wanted.” She shrugged. “There’s been more than one throne, but the screen is traditional.”

“Why?” He asked wanting to hear her talk more. She was relaxed for once. She was never relaxed with him, and he didn’t want it to end. It was also cute to him how she seemed to know so much about the exhibit. She’d probably been before, but she was looking at the exhibit as though it was the first time.

“It represents harmony and balance. See how everything is symmetrical, fitting of the perfection of the king?” She motioned towards the screen drawing his attention from her and back to the exhibit. “Everything in it is long lasting, the mountains, the trees, the waterfalls. It’s supposed to represent the benevolence of the royals.”

“Even if the royal wasn’t benevolent?”

“Even if they weren’t benevolent.” She agreed.

“I’d pick a more comfortable throne.” He mused eyeing the wooden seat.

“Well, it’s not for lounging on.” She laughed looking at him with a bright smile.

“It could be.”

“Lazy king. Lounging on his throne instead of ruling.”

“Maybe he was a tyrant.”

“Maybe.” She agreed. “But look how beautiful it is. The detail that went into it.”

“It’s beautiful.” He agreed looking at the golden creatures drawn all over the panels of the throne, visions for his mv already taking hold in his head. “Why the screen though?”

She shrugged. “Screens normally sat behind the seats of the powerful. You see them in every historical drama. Sometimes more than one. Royalty needs to hold a sense of divinity and majesty. Everything from the clothes to the jewelry to the throne needed to display that.” She explained her tone soft, respectful. “It’s why the throne was always on a dais and why the king and queen always had opulent robes.”

“You know a lot about history.”

She startled a little blushing sheepishly. “It was always my favorite subject in school.”

He hummed nodding his head as he turned his attention back to the throne. “So the king should definitely have a screen.”

She nodded gently. “And lots of things in gold.”

He held out a hand to her, palm up. “Shall we?”

She eyed his hand for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to take his hand or not. It was such a simple thing, holding someone’s hand, but it was such an intimate thing as well. Friendship, romance, comfort. Those were all things that could be conveyed in the simple act of holding another person’s hand. She’d have to do things that were much more intimate in this arrangement though, so she placed her hand delicately in his allowing his much larger hand to envelop hers as he led her to her next exhibit.

It was a case full of seals, all shaped like turtles. Each seal had a corresponding piece of paper stamped in red ink to show what the seal looked like when it was stamped.

“Why are they all turtles?” Yoongi asked staring down at the seals.

“Because they’re like dragons.” It was his turn to stare at her incredulously. Turtles like dragons?

“How is a turtle like a dragon?”

“They rule over all the bugs, and they live a long time, longer than anything else around them usually, like a dragon.” She explained smiling softly. “And turtles are cute.” She added on her smile stretching into a grin her nose scrunching up in a way that Yoongi found absolutely adorable.

“I still don’t think turtles are like dragons.” He shook his head repressing a grin of his own. It was so good to see her smiling though, not nervous smiles real happy smiles.

“Agree to disagree.” She shrugged before tugging on his hand leading him further into the exhibit. “That seal across from us is King Taejo’s seal.” She explained pointing across the room. “It’s why it gets its own case.”

“How do you know so much about all this?” He asked as they moved further into the exhibit.

“My grandfather was a history teacher.” She explained her smile dimming becoming softer, sadder. “He used to take me here when I was little.” He hummed in understanding waiting for her to continue. “He died when I was seven, but I’ve always loved history because of him, and he loved this place.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was a great man.” She hummed tilting her head as she thought. She shook her head slightly before a bright smile lit up her features, bright but a little strained. “Come on. There’s a lot more to see.”

And that’s how they went through the museum. Yoongi kept her hand safely tucked around hers. She pointed out her favorite exhibits, laughing about how uncomfortable the royal women’s palanquin looked compared to the king’s, and Yoongi hung off her every word, attentively taking note of the things that he could incorporate into his music video. He found her knowledge of the museum and its artifacts endearing. Her eyes would light up when she showed him her favorite exhibits. She’d been so tense and hesitant when she’d first taken his hand, but now every time they slipped apart for even a moment, she didn’t even flinch when they rejoined their hands. She had even been the one to grab his hand at one point, and Yoongi was practically beaming.

He had wanted something more secluded and easy for their first date, but he had never expected it to go as well as it had. The museum, the dinner for two he had set up for them on the second floor, it was all more perfect than he could ever imagine. She was perfect. He never wanted her to stop smiling. He loved that smile of hers. Just from this one night he had a million ideas, songs he wanted to write for her, places he wanted to take her. She liked hanok houses? He would buy her one. He’d buy her a piano and a cello too, the nicest cello he could find to fill the house with music. He’d buy her anything she wanted so long as she kept smiling at him like that.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected either. Y/N actually found herself having a good time. Yoongi wasn’t so intimidating after all. She still had a lingering sense of unease at the back of her head, but it was easier to ignore now. Even if the intimate nature of the outing was a little too close to a date for her liking, she could actually see herself getting through the year now. It wasn’t going to be so bad. It helped that he was a gentleman. He pulled out her chair, helped her with her coat, opened doors, all those things that gentlemen are supposed to do. The happy atmosphere of the evening came crashing down though when Yoongi drove her home, but it wasn’t her home.

All the nerves came back with a fury. She was inexperienced, but she wasn’t naïve. She knew what was expected in their arrangement, but she that didn’t mean that she wasn’t horribly nervous. Yoongi could see it too. He watched all the color drain from her face as they pulled up to his building, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly as he led her into the building dismissing his driver for the night.

“It’s okay.” He assured her gently ushering her into the building as the escape route drove away leaving her stranded with Yoongi.

She nodded nervously, looking back at the entrance as though the car would magically appear to take her back to her own home.

Okay. Everything was okay. That was what she kept telling herself over and over again. It had to be okay, but she couldn’t stop the way her hands were trembling, and she was sure that Yoongi could feel it. Her hand was still enveloped by his own. She knew he’d noticed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as he took her up to his penthouse apartment.

She had to admit that his home was beautiful, but it was too large for just one person. The apartment was done in shades of warm gray, and even though it was large, it still had the appearance of being lived in. Shoes were scattered by the door not having made it into the shoe rack. He flung their coats haphazardly across the table in the entryway before giving her a pair of guest slippers to wear. There was a coffee cup left out on the coffee table, and sheet music spread over the piano nestled in the corner of the living room.

It was the piano that drew her in. It was a gorgeous instrument. Coming closer she realized that a lot of the sheet music spread across the instrument was hand written.

“Did you write these?” She asked turning back to look at him where he stood a few feet away.

“Yeah.” He nodded moving forward a little.

“For the same album that the new mv is going to?” She asked picking up a few of the papers to look over the notes scribbled down in the same scrunched up scrawl that the note from the box had been in.

“Some of them.” He nodded coming up next to her to look at the particular song she was holding. “That one is for something else though.”

“What is it for?” She asked looking over to him.

“Not sure yet.” He shrugged.

“Can I try?” She asked tilting her head towards the piano, and a gummy grin spread across the man’s face.

“Please.”

She took a seat at the bench as Yoongi helped her arrange the sheets properly. “You’re sure this is okay?” She asked her fingers hovering over the keys.

He nodded again, and she turned her attention to the music.

“What tempo?” She asked noticing the lack of instruction. But it was hand written, and that was to be expected.

“Andante at the beginning. It builds up to be allegro around here.” He pointed out a particular measure and she nodded in understanding before putting her fingers to the keys.

Hand written notes were always a little harder to read, but his hand writing was neat enough if not a little scrunched. Her fingers drifted across the keys filling the room with the sound of his music. Yoongi thought his heart would stop. Hearing her play his music, in his home, it was like a dream, and she was as beautiful of a pianist as she was a cellist.

Her fingers danced across the keys, her attention fully on the music. It was enchanting, and Yoongi knew he had made the right decision as he watched her play.

She filled him with the desire to compose as well as an intense urge to protect her. She was such a sweet soul, and he hated that she’d been driven to this even if it brought him her. He would protect her though. He would always protect her.

When she finished she folded her hands gently in her lap.

“You play beautifully.”

She laughed smiling up at him contentedly. “You compose beautifully.” She complimented before looking down with a blushed. “It’s late. I should head home.” She stood up skirting around the piano bench.

“Stay.”

She froze looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “What?”

“Stay.” He repeated. “It’s late. Stay the night.”

He could see the panic setting in as her eyes darted across the room searching for an exit. “I really should…”

He huffed amused a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. “No funny business. It was a busy day, and I’m tired. Stay.”

He watched as she debated her option her eyes flitting between him and the door. “I don’t…”

“I’d like you to stay, but you don’t have to.” He assured her slowly making his way towards her.

“Just sleep?” She asked her voice shaking slightly.

“Just sleep.”

She waited a minute, debating her options before sighing. “Okay.”

part 6

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #yandere #yandere suga #yandere yoongi #suga we're going down #suga #suga x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #rapper yoongi #agust d #bts fanfic

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 4 years ago

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How about a musician reader x character fic? Maybe a singer who performs in a cafe, or a classical musician who plays in an orchestra, or who plays in a rock band? I dunno I have a lot of ideas in my mind but I'm just too lazy to write them :D What do you think?

So here's the baseline you gave me - a musician reader fic x character. Here's what I decided to fill in for this lovely fic- a fluffy bsd collage Au where the reader is majoring in music and has the side job of a stage performer. Then, because they would match well, so I decided to go with a Fyodor x reader. Hope this is alright!

Words- 1728 ~

Hearts Composition | fyodor x musician reader | (collage Au)

Music thudded against the walls, muffled only by the thick layers that hid backstage from the audience. The aroma of heavily worn perfume surrounded people in pleasant bliss. Waitresses and waiters swayed with heavy plates rested along arms and in hands. Carrying much-wanted foods and booze to awaiting customers. The collection of accents muted under the heavy beats of taps and clicks from the metal of the dancer's shoes. Picking up a smaller wooden, finely carved, and rather expensive model of a violin, stood yourself. With a smile, your hands trailed the curves and strings of the delicate instrument. With all the work you had to do for university you had truly didn’t have time to be doing some minimum wage job. Though you didn’t care much, if you could play something, it would be fine. You performed here every once in a blue moon. You weren't one of the performers, but they would grace you with the intermission on busy nights. Much like these nights, when the crowd was full and the people rowdy and in need of constant entertainment. You could soothe those shouts and demands of perverted drunk men; Soothe the cries of broken women and rich spoiled children.

Stepping onto the wooden stage as the lights dim, allowing you the bare minimum of the peeping moonlight to find the microphone located at the center. Inhaling as your anxiety turned into bliss, you waited. As the colored light flew on, you rested your chin on the soft velvet. Holding up the bow, you set it to the strings. With a final inhale, your eyes fluttered shut as you played a classical piece; one constructed for an upcoming project that was due for your music composition class. You had nearly all the string instruments you could play finished; all but the cello. With every strum of your instrument, the crowd fell silent, enjoying the break from all the heavy excitement. Even the children's chatter soothed down, so your instrument could echo off the thin walls of the pub.

Sipping nothing but a cup of tea with a small side of biscuits, a male leaned in his seat. Sitting with a pristine, perfect posture, he listened to the soft sound. The way his violet eyes slowly lidded, and his hair fell back against his face, lit his features in a urethral, almost divine light. His mind working to recognize the piece. As an up-and-coming musician, he had several classics memorized. He could join in by ear, or even write out the full pieces without needing to see the original sheet music. This piece wasn’t something he recognized, could it be an original piece?

If you were to open your eyes as you neared the end of the first piece, you would notice his gaze rested on you. Eyes open halfway with hidden interest, and yet, the stare was attractive. The blank look that hid everything beneath a mask laid strewn across his features. As you finished and stood up, surrounded by applause, he watched your every stride. It was funny, he thought he could almost recognize you.

With shaking hands, your fingers typed within a group chat of other college students you had met and become close to. “I’m so nervous. I have to hand in that piece today. I pulled an all-nighter trying to decide on the cello part, but nothing sounded right, so now I might not get a full mark.” You could hear the whine through the text. When replies of good luck came to you, except for two replies, you chuckled. One read “could always just die before handing it in.” Another wrote, “I've got the wine ready.” laughing to yourself as you walked into the classroom and set down the folder in the bin. Glancing through the room, you took a seat with your head down. It was unusual for you to arrive early to class, but your anxiety with this project was slowly picking at you to just get there and hand it in. With twenty minutes till class started, you decided to pull out your laptop and listen to the recording from last week.

Taking out your notebook, you started jotting notes about small things to improve, and things you hated about your performances. You didn’t notice somebody else enter the classroom rather early. Carrying his bag, he set it down at one of the desks before the sound of a violin entered his ears. Sitting down he listened to the melody you had played several nights before. As the piece finished, his eyes traveled to the bin. Now understanding where you had gotten the piece from, he sighed. “You’re not half bad, you played a little flat, but it sounds okay. Becoming a flustered disaster, you froze glancing over to him. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed him in class, he was hard to miss. His completely perfect grades, perfect posture, and looks made him stand out. Not only that, but he had strong ideals and his debate skills could sway anybody. Though, you knew it wasn’t really skill, more manipulation. To add to everything his Russian accent stuck out with every word he spoke. “Could you play that again?” hesitating at first you restarted the piece.

He took out a blank piece of sheet music and started scribbling down notes. As if memorizing the piece, he tapped his fingers before bringing his thumb to his mouth and chewing on it. Tapping his foot as the piece came to an end, he glanced at the time before walking over to one of the room's cellos. His face resembled discontent as he looked at it. Looking to where he sat, you realized he didn’t have his with him. You presumed it had to do with the instrument being heavy and somewhat large. Though for somebody of his height, it may not be that big of a deal. Perhaps he didn’t want to lug it around with him, considering he had all of those other books for classes. “So uh, why did you want to hear it again?” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched him strum a few strings. He was checking the accuracy and pitch of the notes. With a contempt sigh, he shrugged.

“Your writing is considerably well done. I wished to try something that is all.” He did not shed a glance as he sat down and ran the bow across the strings. The sound was heaven within your ears, but to him, it was nothing but ordinary. The sound of a well-made expensive Russian model, the model he owned, was much better than this school-provided variant. As the melody played, you recognized it as your piece. Smiling slightly as your eyes sparkled. You bolted from your seat to grab your folder; the music that was due in 10 minutes.

Looking over the cello part you had constructed, you changed the key signature to hold a few new sharps and took away some of the flats. Boldly, you handed the male the sheet music and pointed as if asking "Is this the piece you were playing?" Setting the cello aside, he ran a finger over the bars with a nod. “So that’s what I was missing! You're a god at memorizing and creating. Now I'm excited to see what you concocted for the presentation.” You smiled lightly before placing the folder in the bin. “Oh, I never got your name. I’m-” he cut you off before you could formally introduce yourself.

“You’re y/n. I do pay attention to people who aren't a complete waste of time.” The layers of his ego began to shine through his solid expression. The way you'd called him god just then, was another layer added to the ever-growing ego this man had. He thought he was above everybody else; he indeed was. In every way possible, he was above the normal human. With an exceptionally sharp mind, emotionless facade, and a spin of extraordinary talents, he was a god among men. “I’m taken aback, you don’t know me.” frowning you sat back at your desk. Leaning your head against the palm of your hand with a frown, you clicked your tongue.

Coming up with a sharp reply, you rolled your eyes. “Please, who doesn't know the great Dostoevsky. You’re only at the top of our class. Correcting myself before you can, the top in everything.” He snickered his brows raising in interest. His lips curled into a smirk moments before breaking to speak to you again.

“Consider your words before speaking. That wasn’t exactly the best wording to say "I'm better than everybody at everything.” It took you several seconds to realize what had gone through his head. Of course, he understood what you were saying, but he also managed to nitpick everything.

Blushing you placed your hands in front of your face. “I didn't think about it because that’s not what I was saying!” he snickered again. Listening to him stand you peeked from your hands to watch him set away the cello and bow.

“How often do you perform at that pub?” He switched the discussion relatively quickly. But with the sudden pause of your reaction and the setting away of the instrument, it flowed nicely with the conversation.

“Once or twice a month?” You answer honestly. A bit upset by the lack of real performances you had.

“Next time, I'll reserve something, and we’ll set something up. I want to see if you can play something… difficult.” It wasn't much of a question, more a demand. Nodding you wrote down your number, sliding it to the student with a smile as the bell rang.

For the next week, the two of you met in the unused rooms Fyodor managed to snag for practicing. He often shook his head at your way of playing. He did compliment the several different instruments you would take with you. From the cello to the violin, there wasn’t much you couldn’t play. Each was expertly designed and crafted to fit your arm length and height. Custom made and shipped from all over the world. Eventually, it became a routine, going to his concerts as he attended yours. While you praised how good he was, he would find the smallest mistakes to condemn you about.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x reader scenerio #bsd scenerio #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor #bsd college au #bsd college au x reader #bsd college x reader #fyodor college au #fyodor college #fyodor x reader #musican fyodor #musician fyodor x reader #fyodor x musician reader #fyodor x you

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sitp-recs · 4 years ago

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I love your blog! Thanks for sharing the love of some truly a+ fics. If you have time, I have a request. Could you rec Drarry fics with imperfect sex? Awkward first times, silly established relationship sex, coitus interruptus, etc. Preferably times they laugh about, talk about, or shrug off and try again—no angsty post-bad sex drama please. TIA!

Hi anon, I love this ask! Couldn’t come up with many fics off the top of my head, but I’m hoping to revisit this list later. Here are a few hot & awkward treats, hope you enjoy!

Get a Room by @lqtraintracks (2015, 4k)

Harry and Draco have been seeing each other for six months now, and they really can't keep their hands off one another, especially when they get a little drunk.

The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance by @cibeewastaken (2020, 6k)

Draco is going to lose his virginity, so help him god, and he's going to lose it to one Harry Potter. Why? Because of his big cock, his status as The Top Five Quidditch Players in England, and Witch Weekly's Most-Eligible Bachelor for eight years straight. At least that's what he tells himself. Too bad first times rarely go as one plans, and now Harry is looking miserable and Draco doesn’t understand why.

Slip Into My Lover's Hands by @lqtraintracks (2015, 6k)

Draco licks his lips. He shuts his eyes, because he doesn't think he can look at Potter when he says it. When he asks for it. "One finger?"

Advanced Charms by oprhan_account (2013, 7k)

Awkward first time is awkward.

Proper by @violetclarity (2018, 8k)

Draco sighs. “What kind of absolute twit has the chance to have sex with the Chosen One and can’t go through with it?" In which Draco studies with Gryffindors, learns a new spell, and navigates the difficulty of being in a not-so-casual secret relationship with his childhood nemesis.

Waking Moments by JulietsEmoPhase (2015, 11k)

A series of snap shots, starting in their Eighth Year, that defines Harry and Draco's relationship from the moment of waking.

Potter’s Parselprostate (and the Chamber of Secrets) by @dictacontrion (2014, 17k)

Hogwarts’ future depends on Malfoy’s texts. Too bad the key is up Potter’s arse.

Vanilla and Sweet Spices by @fleetofshippyships-archive (2016, 20k) - dubcon, drunk sex

After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy.

Dirty Little Secret by @writcraft (2013, 22k)

When someone threatens Harry’s life, Kingsley decides to send him to a safe house with only Draco Malfoy for company. As the two men are forced together, memories of the past resurface and secrets are discovered.

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by agentmoppet and decanthrope (2017, 25k)

Harry's used to finding distractions to avoid studying, but propositioning Malfoy to get rid of the pesky problem of their virginity is on a whole new level, even for him.

Waiting By An Open Door by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (2017, 29k)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Orbit by @henrymercury (2018, 52k)

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

Reparo by amalin (2008, 84k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (2012, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (2018, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be. Draco has to navigate dealing with this Potter while being hunted by Dark wizards and wanted by extremists in the Ministry. When things take a turn for the worse, Draco has to decide whether he's going to keep running or find a way to protect the world and the people he cares about most.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (2015, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

Bonus: this fic is not Explicit, but I remember a drunk attempt at sex that didn’t go far and it was nicely done imo so I’m reccing it anyway:

“Dad says" by GallaPlacidia (2019, 39k)

Eleven-year-old Scorpius starts writing to Harry. Harry starts to fall in love with Draco through his portrayal in his son's letters.

#anon #asks #drarry reclist #imperfect sex #aka real sex #awkward first times

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ravenadottir · 4 years ago

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Can you describe Lucas to me? Because all I get from him is that he’s rich, owns a bike and “possessive”. I feel like there’s a lot more to him then I’m seeing.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

alright, let me organize my thoughts here, ‘cause lucas is really complex, in my opinion, and i love that i get to talk about him!

❝personality❞

responsible, reliable, always on time, neat, organized, not warm (unless he loves the person), would travel miles to take care of a friend, big brother energy, witty, funny without trying (mostly the way he’s passionate about certain subjects, like politics), charitable (i don’t doubt he has institutions on his monthly expenses. it’s about giving back because he feels fortunate to do it so), polite to the extreme, enjoys quality brands, full walk in closet, likes reading (mostly about what’s new in his field), works out every single day since he was 18, discipline, routine on his week days, “weekends you never know”, control over schedules and his everyday activities, the type to walk in and everyone stops talking (even if he’s not the boss), cat person, independent, not too into family, christmas with friends and girlfriend, new year’s with his girlfriend (somewhere warm), sports are not his thing but if he’s challenged he won’t back down, 6 am gym sessions (because it’s quieter), dodges advances from women at work (even when he’s single, “it never ends well”), “the grumpy uncle of the group”, “gentlemen’s bar” sort of habits (like cigars, scotch and poker), suits every time he can (no tie, though), favorite colors include the darkest shades (maroon, dark grey, navy blue and so it goes), ignores the existence of greens, yellows and oranges, has a maid but his place is always neat, cooks and shows off about it, weekly grocery shopping, dancer (includes ballroom), cusses very rarely (but when he does, is not pretty), doesn’t reach out (but if you do, he’ll be receptive), attention to detail, sarcastic, short texts/long conversations, stubborn, adventurous (will try anything once), extremely rational, no small talk.

and i’m a firm believer that lucas doesn’t put gel on his hair, but pomade or clay.

❝on a relationship❞

surprising, he spoils, protective, jealous (a layer of insecurities where he sometimes may think he’s not enough), romantic, dedicated, not into little rituals (but loves sharing at least one meal every day, followed by a glass of wine), needs reassurance, good at communicating (he’s learned with time), “his and hers sink”, spa days, shared baths, massages (regularly), friday night dates, travelling to new places, buying a gift “just because”, surprising her at work (probably with lunch), playing poker with her, knows more about her wardrobe than she does, has a cute short version of her name, has nickname to piss her off, can’t stand someone making an advance (will make everyone uncomfortable by pointing it out, might punch a guy if he insists on the advances), doesn’t want kids, will get married and his proposal involves a big gesture, celebrating small victories (usually with dinner/drinks/dancing), attentive (the most i would argue), wouldn’t forgive cheating, argumentative, tries to reason, saying “i love you” is a huge deal for him, loves bantering, regularly bets everything with her, takes some time to open up.

more here

❝intimacy❞

kinky, dominant (he enjoys being dominated from time to time as well), passionate, intensely into the idea of both having fun, orgasm denial, “sex is something you do with a woman, not to her”, big spoon, cuddling with both arms around her, hands on the side of her waist (at all times), hair pulling (if possible), mostly against a wall. more here.

❝his place❞

leather chairs and couch, throw pillows (tying up the space), pattern rugs, tanned/chromed/blacks/creams scheme of colors, art on the walls, sculptures, big screen on the living room, open concept kitchen, breakfast nook or german corner, bar area in the living room, big plants framing the corners, linen curtains, lamps (lots of them), extra light spots on the ceiling and molding, extravagant pieces (not a lot, one or two).

❝about money❞

don’t let the “quality brands” fool you. lucas is not rich, but lives comfortably. he learned, from a very young age, to administrate his money and invest. he has savings and various investments on different fields. that’s one thing he makes sure to keep tab of. doesn’t spend it lightly, unless it brings him joy.

#litg lucas #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #fusebox #fusebox games #character sheet #queue

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zee-writes-and-draws · 3 years ago

Text

Truly Important

Summary: A look at some of the more important birthdays that Saw Paing has had, and the one he celebrated right after the tournament.

A/n: It's still July 8th, so I'm on time w/this. Nonetheless, I slept five hours so I apologize for lack of proofreading.

------

The first birthday that Saw Paing truly considers important is his fifth one, the day he gets to start Lethwei training for the very first time. He comes home covered in scratches and bruises and a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His father fusses a little and his ma doesn’t let him up until she bandages every little cut and bruise but nothing can spoil his good mood as Ne Win Paing puts him in a headlock and their little sister congratulates him on the start of his training.

------

Most birthdays to Saw Paing aren’t majorly important beyond the fact that even as a fighter Pa Paing did his best to see every single child on their birthday every year. But some are important because there’s new people in his life, people who aren't’ there, certain benchmarks and events that are important in and of themselves, but are easier to tie to years and dates and celebrations.

Saw Paing’s sixteenth birthday is remembered fondly only because it is one week before he meets his eternal rival for the very first time, a boy named Gaolang Wongsawat.

------

Seventeen. Nothing particularly important. Current youngest brother starts his training that year.

Eighteen. Important solely by the freedom it grants in travelling. Almost all countries recognize eighteen as an age of majority, an age where you can do a lot of things that would be illegal otherwise like go somewhere without an adult’s supervision or rent a car so you have your own transport. Going to places outside of Myanmar and Thailand is the most interesting he’s done in his entire life.

Nineteen. He finally gets a job outside the village. The weapons corporation that hired him is run by an old man and a teenage girl with a vicious streak longer than the destruction radius of the missiles she’s designed. Still, they hired him to safety test things and work to rescue people in afflicted areas, not attack them. It’s Togo Tomari’s brilliant ruthlessness that causes him to end up in the same place as Muteba for a month. Another friendship struck up with someone he’s fought against. A birthday gift of an absolutely gorgeous button-up with twelve patterns and wild color is dropped off at his door that year. Even though the gifter will likely never see it, Saw Paing wears the shirt with pride as often as he can for the next few years.

Twenty. Barely important but it was Gaolang’s eighteenth birthday that year and the time the title ‘God of War’ starts creeping into people’s thoughts about him. Saw Paing cheers his rival on whenever possible.

Twenty-one. Nothing. Little sister asks out crush, dates her for seven months and change before they have to break up because the crush’s family is moving. He and Muteba have each others numbers saved and text between missions.

Twenty-two. He and Ne Win Paing get to fight outside of legal matches for the first time. It’s exhilarating. Their father hugs them both afterwards and tells them how proud he is.

Twenty-three. The first birthday in their family celebrated after Pa Paing passes. It’s somber. Saw Paing would rather have skipped the day entirely if not for how his youngest siblings all seemed determined to follow traditions for at least the illusion of normalcy and he’s not about to ruin their coping process just because he’s sad. With Ne Win Paing travelling nearly full-time and recovering when he’s home, Saw Paing is the de facto leader of the family and he’s not going to let them down so easily.

That night there’s a card delivered to him by a hassled-looking mail carrier. It’s from Gaolang.

I heard about your father’s death, Saw Paing. My deepest condolences to both you and your family. Take care of yourself. Do what you must to feel more stable.

To anyone else the writing would be cold and impersonal. Saw Paing re-reads it over and over until a drop splashes onto it and the crinkling of paper registers and then he hurriedly folds it and drops it onto the desk in his room so it doesn’t get destroyed.

If in two weeks when they next see each other, Gaolang relents and truly fights Saw Paing for twenty minutes before declaring a defeat form boredom, neither of them acknowledge the change in routine anymore than they acknowledge that Saw Paing’s yelling is more like loud talking and that Gaolang had made an extra plate of his favorite fish seemingly just in case.

------

Twenty-four. Saw Paing meets Sayaka for the very first time that year, a bright and sunshine-sweet teenager who screams out his intro and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s super-loud or that his opponent throws him into the commentators box and nearly crushes her by accident.

When he had apologized she made a joke about it. He made one back. A friendship stronger than any other he’d made was started that day. Sayaka reminds him of his little sisters, friendly and upbeat and ready to take on the world if she has to and come out with a smile, sharp wit and keen mind concealed under a bubbly layer that requires no lying to maintain.

That year his birthday includes a surprise delivery of a completely new set of cookware with a small note attached.

Happy birthday, Saw! Sorry I couldn’t make it, dad scheduled fifty matches for this week alone so I’m not even sleeping, but I hope you like it! See you in May (PS I’m secretly rooting for you!)

That night Saw Paing makes dinner for everyone with said cookware and an unflappable grin on his face.

------

Twenty-five. Nothing.

Twenty-six. His little sister is now formally competing on a near-national level. His brothers, no longer so small but always little in his eyes, work hard to bring in food and water and trade with the local villages and Saw Paing never stops feeling proud of them.

Twenty-seven. More and more fights in the arena. He leaves Tomari’s contracts behind but keeps in touch with Muteba. A chance metal concert allows him to meet Yoshiko, who in turn introduces him to Sawada. Saw Paing mails him several CDs of traditional Burmese music for the other man’s birthday. Gets a collection of ballet remixes in exchange. Listens to the collection every night for weeks and weeks on end until he can whistle half the songs without thinking. Smiles at how many small reminders he has now of the people he cares about.

------

Twenty-eight. The coldest and harshest one yet. Ne Win Paing is not there that year. Everyone’s energy is lower than usual. Saw Paing spends the day mostly taking care of the youngest siblings and visiting the graves of those he’s lost. He can feel the wrongness of this land on his skin, it’s Yoroizuka’s home and that’s better than the alternatives but it is not his home or their home or the home that his family deserved and had grown up in and lost because of Ne Win Paing or maybe because Saw Paing should have noticed sooner, should have caught onto the damage his brother had taken.

Sayaka leaves twenty voicemails and thirty texts, all reassurance and compassion and kindness that Saw Paing is beginning to doubt he deserves. Sawada had arranged for several boxes of their favorite sweets from all over the world to be delivered to his house. Muteba messages him a list of names and places if he needs to fight the emotions out or to talk to a professional specializing in fighters and loss of loved ones and tells him to cherish the rest of his family.

Gaolang visits that evening, sleeplessness evident in his posture and eyebags. It’s rarer and rarer for the two of them to see each other now, between the jobs they both hold and duties they’re bound to. Saw Paing’s first priority will always be his family, just as at the end of the day the Thai God of War is not that but the bodyguard of Prince Rama of Thailand. And yet here they are, sitting next to a firepit just outside a house that was not truly meant for Saw Paing’s family, in a country outside of Gaolang’s own.

“Are you alright?” Gaolang asks him. Saw Paing looks up.

I’ll be fine, he wants to say, thinks instead because even things like talking feel like too much right now. He settles for a nod instead, one that feels too slow and tired to really be him but has to be because who else could he be? Gaolang does not look reassured by this. He sits down next to Saw Paing and talks. That quiet voice, normally at least partially twinged with annoyance and exhaustion, now flows with an undertone of gentle energy. It’s not the fire that Saw Paing usually feels running through his veins. Nor is it Ne Win Paing’s quick fury or Pa Paing’s ruthless confidence.

No, it’s the other kind of energy, the kind that Gaolang always emits though it’s hidden under the day-to-day life’s mundaneness. Gaolang tell him about fights, about what guarding Prince Rama has been like for him, some recipe his parents love and he despises because of how annoyingly spicy it is and how Saw Paing would probably like it. And then he talks about staring into a fire.

“Look,” Gaolang motions at it. “It moves so incredibly, alive and unalive at once.” Saw Paing looks into the fire, watches the moving flames flicker and dance in and out of existence. Next to him, Gaolang smiles.

“It reminds me of you sometimes. The difference is fire burns out. I truly hope you never do.” They sit next to each other, watching for a while until something in Saw Paing’s chest undoes itself, letting some feeling back in. Gaolang notices.

“Tell me about Ne Win Paing,” he asks, shoulder brushing against Saw Paing’s own, warmer than the air around by just enough to be noticeable without feeling too off-balance. And so he does, spilling out every little detail he can remember about his brother and all of the memories that were crafted for as long as he can remember. The sky is light when he finishes, still tired but somehow lighter. That something that had unwound a bit earlier is almost completely gone. He’s still saddened by the loss of one of the greatest people in his life, but things look a little better.

Gaolang leaves then, apologetic but unable to stay. Saw Paing nods at him again to say it’s alright and it must come across sufficiently this time, because Gaolang’s smiling softly as he walks to his car and drives back to his too-loud and too-busy life for such a quiet man and yet a life that couldn’t be anyone else’s.

Saw Paing’s younger siblings are slowly waking up, coming out to check up on him and start their day. He hugs them, feeling his spirit coming back to something normal.

------

Twenty-nine. Still a tad colder than before but mostly better.

Thirty. A year with little occurring beyond the increasing amount of kengan matches and the frequency that he gets to see old friends like Sayaka. The tournament that happens later in the year is undoubtedly something unforgettable that he;ll treasure for the rest of his life. So many new friends made, so many bonds forged and strengthened. He makes it a point to keep correspondence with all of them, even the more quiet ones like Karo and Rei. They clearly need the company if they're quite that quiet.

Thirty-one. He wakes up expecting another birthday that’s rather insignificant. His sisters and brothers in college call and Skype and do whatever else they need to say hello first thing in the morning, yelling through the screen loud enough that he can her the dorm’s complaints through the call. The siblings still at home whether from sentimentality or youth wake him minutes before that by running into his room and wishing a happy birthday to him at the top of their lungs. He’s so proud of their lung training being quite so successful.

He checks his phone after all of the younger siblings hang up out of habit. There’s another twelve messages from various members of the assassin clans he’s befriended, a missed call from Cosmo, a notification about a post from Adam, and an alert of the local post office telling him about several packages that are addressed to him.

On the journey to the post office and back he gets six more calls. As he’s balancing reading a short ‘happy birthday!’ texted to him from Cosmo and a rambly congratulation courtesy of Okubo that is interrupted by an incoming call from either Hanafusa or Yoshizawa, a wonderfully familiar voice calls out.

“Saw! Over here!” Sayaka stands by the edge of the road, looking as red carpet-ready as always, except for the small trolley of boxes and bags she’s keeping from rolling away.

“HEY SAYAKAAAA!!!!!” He yells to her as he runs over. She’s hugging him so there’s no reason not to complete their usual greeting by picking her up and spinning in several circles.

“Happy birthday, Saw!” She laughs as he puts her down. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, but there was a lot of last minute stuff and everyone wanted to send something to you and it was ‘one more thing’ this and ‘oh wait here!’ that, and it’s so great to see you again! Here!” the packages he was holding until two seconds ago are now in Sayaka’s hands, traded for a fancy-looking photo album.

“It’s for you. I wish I could stay, but Retsudo’s been flipping out for six hours and he threatened to send a SAR squad again, but I promise i’ll call this evening, kay? See ya soon, Saw Paing!” She runs to the familiar figures of Takyama and Misasa, waving the whole time they drive away until she’s out of his line of sight. Only tnen does Saw Paing turn his attention to the trolley and the photo album.

Getting everything home requires ignoring messages and calls so his plan to find out what these things are that everyone was so determined to send to him has to wait another hour or so but then he finally has the time to check everything out.

There’s two gorgeous shirts that fit perfectly, bright greens and yellows combining with the soft fabric and reminding him of his old shirt but nicer. This, he knows without even needing to check the card, is a gift that only someone like Muteba would have gotten him. A thick book of various recipes from several different regions in Japan, along with an impressively full binder of leaflet instructions for dishes made in the mountains is sent courtesy of Sekibayashi and Haruo.

A sharp-looking knife that seems to be more familiar with intestines sliding across its blade than vegetables is gifted by the Kures he’d met after Hayami’s rebellion, right next to several ‘free assassination’ coupons Reichii and Fusui must have snuck in as a half-joke and and half-true gift.

Most of the things are actually quite small, just fragile and packaged with an insane amount of cushioning, he realizes. It’s nothing particularly fancy, but they’re all things that will remind him of the senders, be it the scalpel that Hanafusa mailed him with instructions on how to DIY surgery or the old shogi set Kaneda gifts along with a book on most famous shogi strategies played throughout history.

Saw Paing moves everything to where it should be once everything but the photo album has been looked through. The cookbooks go to a specific shelf in the kitchen that no one else can reach. The weapons are hidden in a small box under his bed to avoid any incidents. Muteba’s shirts go onto hangers, Sawada’s fancy candies are set on a plate for eating while looking at this final gift, and then the album is opened.

The first photo makes him smile, a perfect snapshot from one of his earliest fights in the Kengan matches, capturing the moment they had both gone from enemies to friends mid-blow. A date, presumably of when the photo was taken, is written on the border in Sayaka’s neat writing. The second one is of Ne Win Paing from seven years ago. This time, the date is in heavier, blockier writing, not unlike Hollis’s. Saw Paing flips through the album a little more, taking it in. there’s plenty of photos of his various friends, fellow fighters, and even some family from the tournament and before it, but there’s also old photos of his brother and father, and even one of his mother back when she had fought in occasional matches, along with candids of some of the more stoic people. They must have been collected over several months, and not just by Sayaka.

Saw Paing already knows what will happen this evening. Gaolang will come over with some kind of small yet so deeply personal way of also saying happy birthday. Sayaka will call again, most likely throwing a small party in the Katahara house and inviting everyone she can. Rei might stop by and even if he doesn’t, he’ll Skype before the sun sets because he’s a punctual person by both nature and training.

But that’s still hours away, and in the meantime, Saw Paing decides to keep looking at the beautiful snapshots of the past, enjoying the present to it’s fullest.

------

END.

#happy birthday to my all-time fave #saw paing yoroizuka #sayaka katahara #gaolang wongsawat #ne win paing #pa paing #kenganverse #kengan ashura #kengan #fic #fanfic #my writing #I wrote this in one sitting please if you like it leave a comment or rb or somehting

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luminescencefics · 4 years ago

Text

you feel like home - part six

“Uh, sorry. Sometimes Jackson’s just too much, so I come out here and—”

He’s not quite sure why he’s saying anything. Neither is Ryan, considering her face is blank, brown eyes staring into green wondering why she hasn’t turned her back to him yet. Because in any other instance she would have listened to Harry unfalteringly, but that was before she read the signs wrong and tried to kiss him. Now she’s just staring at him, blinking through her blurry thoughts, wondering why the lift is taking forever to reach their floor.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, and Ryan isn’t sure if it’s for this awkward moment in the hallway or for not kissing her back. She doesn’t really want to think about it at all, if she’s being honest.

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***

When It Goes From Bad to Worse

In the days that follow, Ryan does her best to stay locked inside her flat. She dodges Fiona’s constant calls, ignores the text messages that have flooded her mobile, all filled with questions regarding the so-called date she wishes she can just forget she ever attended.

Ryan feels a bit bad, because she knows she’s being selfish by leaving Fiona out after she promised to ring her the following day with a play-by-play of the evening’s events. But reliving those felt like some cruel sort of torture Ryan refused to bestow upon herself, therefore she’s decided to do the next best thing—sit in her flat with the front door locked wearing those ugly flannel pajama bottoms she buried in the bottom of her drawer, drinking cheap beer and ordering takeaway because she refused to leave her flat in order to do her food shopping. The slightest possibility of running into Harry in the fucking hallway was enough to keep Ryan inside, swallowing her pride and suffering in silence.

She feels like an idiot if she’s being honest. Because for the quickest of seconds, she let her guard down—her resolve that she’s built up and practiced purposely whenever she finds herself spiraling into a fit of anxiety and social awkwardness. For people like Ryan, people who feel their stomachs bubble with nerves and their brains whir with too many thoughts, people who over-analyze and plan their sentences because they can’t fathom feeling off guard, people like that need to have a protective layer. A perfectly practiced layer that allows Ryan to keep herself at a careful distance, so that she can act accordingly to whatever social situation is thrown her way.

But that night on Harry’s couch, she felt suffocated by his presence. She didn’t want to be at an arm’s length with him—she wanted to be smothered by his warmth and feel him crack through her walls, breaking down her barriers inch by inch and filling the gaps with everything she found herself liking about him. And for a split second, she did. She allowed her brain to turn off, finally welcoming the way her thoughts turned to mush around him. She completely opened herself up to the possibility of not knowing what was going to happen next. She let herself be vulnerable to the fullest extent around him.

And she figured that’s what Harry wanted her to do in the first place. Ever since she first met him, Ryan’s felt that he’s been chipping away at her wary exterior, scratching away at the concrete until his fingernails bled with every innocent query he had about her life. Whether it be her peculiar moving patterns, or her fascinating career, or how she spent her days in uni, he wanted to know everything about her. About the person she was buried beneath this protective layer she’s spent years curating.

But with one inch backward, one brief movement that ruined their almost-first-kiss, Ryan immediately realized that Harry did not want the same things as her. And she feels like an idiot because she was almost certain that he wanted her to kiss her, that he wanted her to make the first move and finally show her interest in him.

That’s the thing about infatuation, it allows for a momentary lapse in judgment, a brief juncture of blindness. It made Ryan’s tough exterior falter, but only just slightly—because the second Harry backed away from her, Ryan forced herself to close off completely, to rebuild her walls.

The most aggravating part of it all is that she’s angrier with herself than she is with Harry. Because it’s not his fault he backed away—how could she be upset with him for that? He clearly invited her over for dinner to thank her for watching Jackson, just as he had said in her doorway that afternoon. Ryan let herself listen to Fiona in believing that it was anything more than just an amiable dinner between two friends, as he so reminded her when he defined their relationship as a “friendship” after she jokingly called him clumsy. Ryan couldn’t bring herself to be angry with Harry for not wanting her in the same capacity that she wanted him.

And that’s okay. It’s okay to not be wanted by somebody, because deep down Ryan knows that boys like Harry do not fall for girls like her. Girls who are far too awkward for their own being. Girls who feel more comfortable speaking to his four-year-old son than they do his father. Girls who misinterpret a comforting handhold as something more than a kind gesture.

She just wishes it didn’t hurt this much.

After completing another series of the new Netflix show she decided to start bingeing at the beginning of her self-induced isolation, Ryan’s decided that it’s finally time to get off the bloody couch and change out of her horrid flannel pajama bottoms.

Luna stretches on the rug beside her, curious in her owner’s newfound sense of urgency. She follows behind Ryan as she gathers all the empty beer bottles and takeaway containers, throws them into the appropriate bin, and wipes down the coffee table. When Ryan strips down and scrubs at her skin in the shower, erasing every remnant her abrupt downward spiral left on her, she feels ten times better than when she first entered the bathroom.

She decides it’s time to properly stock her fridge, considering the only thing sitting on the shelves is an expired carton of milk and raspberries that are due to spoil by tomorrow. So with wet hair and fresh clothes, armed with a long grocery list and reusable bags, Ryan exits her flat for the first time in four days.

As she’s waiting for the lift to arrive on her floor, she tries her hardest not to focus on the voices coming through the crack under the front door of Harry’s flat. She can hear Harry’s low tonality through the thin walls of the hallway, and she can distinctly make out the words “please” and “Daddy’s very busy” and “I promise, later.”

Ryan knows it’s not her place, but when she hears the shrill sound of a toddler crying, she finds herself leaning a bit closer to 4G. She can’t really make out much over Jackson’s blubbering, but she can somehow piece together Harry muttering, “Bubs, please, daddy is so behind on work and I can’t sit here and read to you. Not right now. I promise when I’m done, just please stop crying so I can try and finish this song.”

She flinches when she hears Jackson’s wails grow louder, and suddenly she’s wondering how on earth Harry can manage to be a father while working at the same time. She starts to feel bad, because if she were in Harry’s position, taking care of another living, breathing human being all by herself, she’d probably go absolutely mental.

Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps overtakes Jackson’s cries, and before his front door flies open, Ryan makes sure to back away, pressing her finger repeatedly on the lift call button once she’s realized that the doors had already closed and moved on to another floor.

Ryan tries her hardest not to look over her shoulder when she hears Harry’s front door close, because the thought of facing him after she ran out of his flat seems far too unbearable. But when a moment passes and the lift still hasn’t arrived, Ryan caves and peeks, and the sight is enough to bring a frown to her face.

Harry’s back was pressed against the wall next to his front door, his neck extended with his head leaning upwards facing the ceiling, his eyes closed tightly. His hair a mangled mess atop his head, tufts of curls sticking up haphazardly from being pulled in every direction. Two big palms were pressed over his eyes, his arms causing his wrinkled jumper to look even more disheveled. Ryan’s almost certain this is the most distressed she’s ever seen Harry, and before she can say anything, he rips his hands away from his face and takes a deep breath that causes his chest to rise and fall.

Harry can sense that he isn’t alone in the hallway. And just as he opens his eyes, his face shifts to the left and he realizes it’s Ryan waiting near the lift. He notices the frown on her face immediately, and he wonders if it’s because of their failed kiss or something else entirely.

“Uh, sorry. Sometimes Jackson’s just too much, so I come out here and—”

The lift chimes and the doors open behind her, and somehow from her position at the end of the hallway, she can see Harry’s eyes fall and his head shake frustratedly. He seems to be upset, and Ryan’s not sure if it’s from Jackson or from the fact that she’s about to walk away from him again.

Somehow it’s enough to cause her to ignore the lift for the second time, her feet creating a determined path to her front door, key fitting into the lock and turning unceremoniously until the door swooshes open and she’s standing in the entranceway of her flat. She can hear Harry call her name in a questioning tone, voice laced with confusion and worry. But before she can respond, she’s standing in front of one of her bookshelves, plucking the red paperback from the middle shelf. Just as quickly as she arrived, Ryan locks up with the same gusto, extending the arm holding the book tightly in Harry’s direction.

His wide eyes create a path from the book to Ryan’s eyes and back again, and after a few moments have passed and Harry still hasn’t taken the book out of her hand, she pushes it an inch closer, forcing him to grasp it.

“What’s this?” Harry dumbly asks, even though he can clearly make out the shape of a paperback book in Ryan’s small hand, as well as the yellow lettered Harry Potter writing on the top half of the cover.

“I bookmarked where we last left off,” Ryan mumbles, staring at the loose thread on his jumper instead of the wide look of his eyes.

When it’s still quiet, Ryan just nods, taking that as her cue to leave. But before she can make it past his frozen frame, Harry seems to snap out of his dumbfounded state, turning on his heel and grasping her forearm lightly.

Ryan stops, trying her hardest not to shiver under his touch.

“Ryan, I really think—”

“—Let me know when you’ve finished. I can lend you the next book,” Ryan forces herself to interrupt, before shaking her arm loose and beginning the short trek back to the lift.

With a brief pause, Harry defeatedly calls out, “It’s your thing, though.”

Her finger hovering over the lift call button freezes, and suddenly Ryan feels as if she can’t move. How Harry even knows that his son said those same words to Ryan a few days earlier in his pillow fort makes her heart drop into the depths of her stomach, and she immediately feels bad for the little boy inside 4G. She feels bad because not only did she let him grow attached to her in such a small period of time, but she let herself get just as attached to him. And knowing that she can’t read the rest of the Harry Potter books to him, something so infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, leaves a dull ache in her chest.

She turns around then, feeling Harry’s heavy gaze fall on her. What once would make her shift uncomfortably in her boots from awkwardness now just leaves her feeling sad and empty.

“Just make sure you do the Hagrid voice, he’ll forget all about it being our thing,” Ryan says sadly, and both begin to frown, knowing that what she said held little truth.

He looks as if he wants to tell her something, but before Ryan can fall under his hypnotizing spell, can give him a second chance to chip away at her much thicker walls, she turns back around, jabbing her pointer finger into the lift call button.

She watches the screen count down from twelve, and she knows she only has about two minutes until it reaches the fourth floor. She’s praying that Harry will leave her alone, will reenter his flat and make sure Jackson is okay. But just as the screen reaches eight, she hears her name fall pleadingly from Harry’s mouth, and she knows she’s fucked.

Ryan doesn’t turn around, but she also doesn’t give him a reason not to continue. So as the number falls from eight to seven, she hears, “I really wanted to kiss you,” fall from Harry’s mouth, and suddenly her chest constricts, and she feels even sadder than before.

Because if he had said those words to her four days ago, Ryan would have turned around and ran into his arms, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard. But now, after four days of silence, four days of ignoring the world and rebuilding her walls, it’s the last thing she wants to hear.

She feels her skin warm with anger, because how dare he say that to her with her back turned to him? When she’s been replaying every incident they’ve shared together over and over in her head, analyzing every look, every touch, every word until she’s practically memorized them? When she finally decided that Harry wasn’t interested in her, that he was just another beautiful boy that Ryan could admire from afar?

So she buries it all—the anger, the frustration, the bitterness. She buries it until it’s hidden under every crevice of her insides, until the only thing that’s left is an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Because that’s truly all there is to it—a missed opportunity between two people who didn’t want the same things.

When the doors finally open, Ryan doesn’t hesitate to throw herself inside, her back slamming into the wall with a clamorous thud. Her hands are shaking, and she misses the ground floor button on her first attempt, giving Harry the chance to step forward an inch and try one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he says despairingly, green eyes begging for her to listen to him. Ryan tears her eyes away before he can say anything else, pressing the button successfully and burrowing her hands into her jacket pockets.

Ryan gives him one last nod, her lips upturned in a juxtaposed sad smile. “Me too,” she says softly, closing her eyes just before the lift doors shut tightly.

***

The middle of the week brings a ridiculous amount of work for Ryan to complete, but she’s happy for the distraction. Because for a moment she can stop thinking about Harry, can stop thinking about all of the things he said to her, can stop thinking about what he truly meant when he told her he wanted to kiss her.

Because thinking about those things only makes the tear in her heart rip inch by inch, and she really can’t bring herself to break apart. Not when she’s rebuilt her walls. Not when she’s gotten so used to being alone, relying on just herself to get through the day.

Because being alone is much easier than letting herself feel things. Vulnerability is a precious thing, probably the most precious thing Ryan has to offer. Her emotions are far too complex, her personality is sometimes fragile, therefore she keeps her vulnerability hidden under lock and key. So the only other option is to be alone—and it’s an option she’s been okay with for the better part of three years.

She hasn’t heard from Harry since his confession in the hallway, and Ryan figures it’s probably for the best. He’s confusing and he makes her feel things her heart hasn’t felt in a long time, and even though she feels an odd sense of emptiness in her chest when she considers her missed opportunity, she knows that trying to find steady ground with him will only make everything hurt that much worse.

Harry’s probably come to the same conclusion, and Ryan can sleep at night knowing that she did everything she could. She can finally put this odd relationship with Harry to rest, and even though she’s sad about it, especially considering she found a new friend in his tiny son, it’s something she has to force herself to deal with.

A loud ping from her desktop shakes her out of her thoughts, and Ryan clicks on it to see a new email from her supervisor. Apparently, he’s sent over two parcels that require product testing, and Ryan sighs quietly, adding another thing to her overflowing to-do list.

After sending over her recommendations on the Nerf blasters she and Jackson played with last week, Ryan heads over to her bedroom to find her ratty slippers. Her legs are covered in cashmere joggers Fiona splurged on for Ryan’s twenty-fifth birthday, and because she misses her friend a little more than usual, she’s wearing a white knitted jumper she borrowed from her closet and never returned before moving out.

Her hair is a mess of waves falling down her back, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s been wearing her glasses for most of the week, feeling far too lazy to put contacts in. With her mobile in one hand and her mailbox key in the other, Ryan heads out into the hallway, her brain already thinking about the next four things on her to-do list.

The sight in front of her makes her slipper-clad feet stop abruptly on the carpeted flooring.

Outside of Harry’s front door stands a beautiful blonde-haired woman, her hair much shorter than the long curly mane in the photographs around his flat. Instead of falling down her back, her hair is straighter now, clipped right above the tops of her shoulder blades. She’s donned in an impressive pantsuit with an expensive-looking briefcase resting on the wall near Harry’s door. From her side profile, Ryan can make out her perfectly constructed jawline, her exquisite button nose, and the edges of her almond-shaped eyes.

Ryan immediately identifies the woman as Rachel, Jackson’s mum and Harry’s ex.

When Ryan looks a bit closer, she can see that Rachel’s pouty lips are in a straight line, and her eyes are downcast as if she were angry. Her hands are moving aggressively as she speaks, and when Ryan chances a look at Harry standing in his doorway, she can tell by his body language that he’s equally just as mad. His arms are crossed over his chest and his mouth is shaped into a frown and his eyebrows are furrowed, and suddenly Ryan feels as if she’s intruding on an intimate family moment she no longer is privy to.

The Ryan before would retreat back into her flat without being noticed, but the Ryan after, the Ryan who understands that she and Harry have nothing left besides a tattered friendship, the Ryan who built her walls back up, the Ryan who promises herself to remain unfazed by whatever sight is occurring in front of her—that Ryan takes a deep breath and steps forward, heading for the mailroom because her job is much more important than her missed opportunity with Harry.

She makes sure not to make eye contact when she walks by Harry and Rachel, choosing instead to stare at the lock screen of her mobile as if the picture she took on the shores of Devon this past summer was infinitely more interesting than the arguing couple to her left. And just when she thinks she’s in the clear, a few meters away from the lift, she hears her name fall from the chipper mouth of a four-year-old boy. She looks over her shoulder, noticing Jackson’s curly head poking out from behind Harry’s legs, and suddenly he’s hobbling over towards her without a care in the world.

“Ryan! Guess what!” He’s in front of her now, head tilted upwards with a toothy grin on his face, excitedly waiting for her response so he can tell her whatever is on his mind.

Before she looks down at Jackson, she can feel the heat of a blue-eyed glare coming from the other end of the hallway, and she tries her hardest not to look up at Rachel. Ryan offhandedly hears Harry scold his son for running out of the flat, and just as Jackson begins telling Ryan his story, she hears the heated whisper of, “the nanny lives next door?” and she instantly flushes with red-hot embarrassment.

When Ryan finally looks down at Jackson, she realizes that he’s been speaking to her for a few moments now, and she’s completely missed the first part of his story. She begins to frown, immediately feeling bad for focusing on Harry and Rachel instead of Jackson. All she wants to do is get out of the fucking hallway and into the lift, but her adorable new friend is making it that much more difficult to escape unscathed.

“Hey, champ. I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be. Why don’t you go hang out with daddy, okay? We can hang some other time.” It’s a promise she isn’t sure she can entirely keep anymore, but it saves her the guilt of ignoring Jackson completely.

His excited babbling stops and he begins to frown, his bottom lip quivering slightly, not understanding why his new friend who always entertains him suddenly doesn’t want to anymore.

“But, Ryan—”

“—Jackson, leave her alone. Come grab your things and leave with mummy,” Rachel says harshly.

When his face turns red and his big green eyes start to glass over, Ryan’s almost certain she’s the only person who can see his tantrum brewing, considering his back is to his parents and he’s completely facing her. Unbeknownst to her, Harry can feel it too, and he’s instantly regretting this entire situation.

“I don’t wanna go! I wanna hang with Ryan! And Luna! We play games and have fun and she reads me Harry Potter books, and I don’t want to go to mummy’s no more!” He’s having a full-on strop, tears rushing down his red blotchy cheeks. He’s gasping for air between belts and Ryan knows she shouldn’t console him because it isn’t her place, but fuck, he looks so sad and it’s utterly heart-wrenching. And before she understands fully what she’s doing, she’s crouched down in front of him, two hands resting gently on his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, champ. Whoa. Deep breaths, you’re all right, yeah? We’ll hang another day. You’ve got your mum now, don’t worry about me or Luna. We’re always right next door. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?” Ryan can hear the sound of clipped heels echoing against the flooring, and when she looks up she’s met with nothing but a face of fury, blue eyes darted into slits and red lips thinned out in irritation.

“What on earth are you saying to him?! You’re the nanny for Christ’s sake, not his mother! Stop trying to act like it just because you want to shag his father!”

The silence is deafening. Even though Jackson’s uncontrolled sobs are ear-splitting, Ryan can’t hear anything except for the sound of her heart sinking into her stomach. Instantly, she stands up, ignoring the feeling of Jackson tugging at the bottom of her joggers. She wonders if that’s what Harry thinks of her—if that’s how he describes her to his mates, to his family, to his son’s fucking mother.

This realization is entirely conveyed through her dark eyes, and Harry can practically feel her disappointment and anguish towards him. Immediately he starts to panic, eyes wide and mouth parted, struggling to find the right words to say, because shit—he’s never thought of her in that way ever.

But then he’s reminded of his wailing son and his angry mother. And instantly he goes into dad mode, delegating his son as his top priority and pushing Ryan’s hurt to the bottom of the pile.

Ryan knows this. And she suddenly wants, no, needs to be anywhere else but here.

With a muffled apology that she isn’t sure she meant to direct at Jackson or his mother, she skirts by them, stares straight ahead ignoring Harry’s gaze, and heads for her front door, shutting it tightly behind her before she slinks down to the ground and lets the first tear fall.

She stays on the floor of her entranceway for a long time, muffling her cries with the sleeves of Fiona’s jumper until the tear in her heart rips completely open, flooding her insides until all that’s left in her chest is a gaping hole where her heart once was.

***

A/N: Hi all, that was part six of you feel like home. Please be patient, I know you guys probably want to slap Harry across the face (even though the chapter title sort of explained how it would go). This story is meant to explore how Ryan feels, and I really hope this part helped explain her reasoning. It’s a two-sided story, and I know you’re probably dying to hear Harry’s side! That’s the glory of mult-part fics, it’s his turn to shine next chapter. Thanks for all the feedback and love you guys are giving this fic, it makes writing it that much more fun. Part seven will be posted on Thursday December 7, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime and tell me your thoughts! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! See you next week my loves x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris @niallgolden

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x #1dforever #onedirection #onedirectionfanfiction #1dffupdates #1dffquarantine

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closedafterdark · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do Haseul or Cheng Xiao sex in a tent while having a camping or something along the line? Thank you.

“Oppa you’re joining us on the camping trip, right?”

You looked down at your phone and reread the message Ha Sooyoung sent you. Smiling, you remember the first time you met her.

It was during your university days. You were a senior entering your final quarter in school. Being vice captain of the dance team and head of the dance club were just a few of your extracurricular activities. Ha Sooyoung was a shy freshman. You immediately took her under your wing, spending extra time after classes and your days off helping her improve her skills.

Your close friendship continued long after you and her left the university. She was after all, the one who introduced you and Heejin to each other.

“Babe, did you get a text from Sooyoung about a camping trip?” you said, looking down as you felt a sharp pleasure from between your legs as your girlfriend Jeon Heejin’s brown and blonde highlighted hair was currently bobbing up and down. A soft moan escapes your lips as your hand guides her rhythm. Heejin gives you a sexily haunting stare as her thin lips are parted by your cock. You feel her hollowed cheeks that are accompanied by her tongue running across the underside of your shaft.

Heejin’s pace was slow, allowing the both of you to feel the pleasure gradually build up as the wetness of her mouth and the suction-like hold her lips have on your cock cause you to release steady moans of satisfaction.

She kept her stare on you the entire time, smiling through her eyes as she hears you enjoying the pleasure she is giving. Your girlfriend was extremely beautiful, but even more so whenever she had your cock in her mouth. Giving you one final bob of her head, she flicks her tongue back and forth on your base before withdrawing you from her mouth inch by inch. You let out a soft whine once she fully released your cock with a loud pop. She giggles before opening her mouth and flicking her tongue on your tip. She then strokes you before focusing her attention on your balls, lathering each one as she gently nibbles on them, causing you to shiver as they are particularly sensitive.

“I did. She wants us to show up to the campsite at dawn. I wanted to get dicked down all night, though.” she finally replied, blowing hot air onto your balls before taking both inside her mouth. You moaned once more as she took each one individually and released them with the same loud pop she used on your cock.

“Why don’t we do that then?” you asked. “But I think you should keep sucking my dick.”

Heejin smiled sweetly, giving the tip of your cock a long, deep kiss before taking you back into the familiar warm and wet feeling of her mouth. If there was one thing you knew about your girlfriend, it’s that she was always willing to sacrifice sleep if it meant you pounding her hard.

The next morning arrived early. Had it be a normal day, you and Heejin would have barely finished having sex for the night and begin the process of cuddling with one another before bed. But here you two were, 5:30 AM in a place that was meant to replicate being deep in the forest. If the particular forest happened to have wifi and public restrooms.

Heejin was not happy. Running on at most, two hours of sleep, she wore large sunglasses and a mask to cover up her bloated face. You were no better, always on the receiving end of her insatiable libido and constant sex filled marathons. Pulling up the emergency brake, you got out of the car and began unloading the items needed for the two day long camping trip. Opening up the passenger’s side door, you were greeted with Heejin crossing her arms. Even through the mask and sunglasses, you knew she was pouting at you and giving you the saddest expression ever.

“Babe, I know what you’re doing even though you’re covered up. It’s not going to work. I’m not carrying all our items and you.”

“But oppa...!”

“Come on princess, let’s have fun today.”

Heejin didn’t respond and got out of the car. You smiled at her, but were greeted by her pinching your nipple before walking to the campsite. You sighed, she really did have moments where she was a spoiled princess. The two of you unpacked your belongings and shared a simple breakfast together before Sooyoung and Yerim arrived. Both wore very casual clothing. Sooyoung wore a simple cropped tee that fully displayed her trademark abs and a pair of curve hugging jeans while Yerim wore an equally short tank top that highlighted her breasts and a pleated skirt.

You watched Sooyoung struggle to carry the heavy belongings, but before you could reach her and offer to help, Yerim dropped the few bags she was carrying and instantly ran towards you.

“Oppa!” she screamed, engulfing you in a windpipe crushing hug.

‘H-Hi, Yerim.” you managed to breath out.

Heejin got out of her folding chair and struggled to assist Sooyoung, having an unreadable expression on her face as she stared at you. You managed to find the strength to finally pry yourself free from Yerim’s death grip before finding an exhausted Sooyoung now occupying your once empty chair.

You walked towards her and sat on the adjacent chair.

“Hi, Sooyoung.” you said, greeting her warmly.

“Oh, oppa.” she said, smiling at you. “Sorry about Yerim, she was so excited when she heard you would be joining us. She stayed up all night planning how she was going to greet you after so long.”

“Unnie! Oppa, don’t believe her. She’s lying!” you heard Yerim whine from behind you two.

Sooyoung made eye contact with you and laughed, shaking her head. “Choi Yerim, what am I going to do with her.”

“Thank you for inviting me though, really. You and I have never gotten the chance to catch up like this after we graduated.” you said, taking a sip of coffee from the cafe you and Heejin passed by before arriving at the campsite.

The rest of the morning leading into the afternoon was relatively normal, with more and more camp goers arriving and the four of you catching up with each other. Yerim clung onto you the whole time. She never said anything, but you could have sworn you saw Heejin stealing glances at you the entire time while frowning.

“Okay, it’s time for tent assignments.” Sooyoung suddenly said, standing up and causing you to slightly jump from her loud voice.

“Why? It’ll just be oppa and I in one tent and you and Yerim in the other.” Heejin replied.

“I knew you’d say that, which is why I wanted to switch things up. Oppa and I share a tent, and you and Yerim share the other.”

“And why would I agree to that?” Heejin scoffed.

Sooyoung turned to you as you also raised an eyebrow in confusion. Smirking, she gives you a playful wink and subtly mouths her response for only you to notice. You’ve heard those words lately that you knew exactly what she was saying.

“It’s my turn.”

The four of you enjoyed each other’s company, having a rather normal uneventful day. Once nighttime arrived and it was time for bed, Heejin went over to you and gave you a heartwarming hug before asking for a kiss. When your lips disconnected, you found yourself longing for her, watching her thin frame enter her and Yerim’s tent. Before you could even react, Sooyoung dragged you into your own tent.

“Unnie I have to say, I think it’s pretty cool you’re okay with oppa having sex with all of us.” Yerim said as she finished applying a layer of night cream.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Heejin asked.

“I don’t know, it’s just… I don’t think I’d be comfortable with my boyfriend sleeping around. I would fully trust him but no matter how close I am with friends, the thought of him falling in love with someone else would always weigh on my mind. But… you guys are inseparable. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yerim gives Heejin a reassuring smile before grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste and heads out of the tent to the restrooms, leaving Heejin alone to her thoughts.

“Why’d you ask for us to share a tent? We haven’t done anything like this since that hotel we shared on the field trip up north.” you said to Sooyoung.

“It’s just… you and I never get to share quality time like the old days. Especially after you and Heejin got together.”

“I really should thank you for that by the way, Sooyoung.”

“It’s no problem.” she said, smiling. “But Heejin did tell me something else.”

“And what is that?”

Sooyoung doesn’t say anything and instead makes her way towards you. You temporarily forget to breathe as your heart rate increases, anticipating her next move. She places a finger underneath your chin, tilting your gaze up towards her, a seductive smirk on her face.

“She’s shown me videos of you two. I must say, I’m starting to regret not sleeping with you during that field trip.” Sooyoung said before pushing you onto one side of the tent, straddling your lap at the same time. She rested comfortably on your thighs as she wraps her arms around your neck.

Your eyes widen as Sooyoung lowers her face closer to yours.

“Mommy won’t let this chance go to waste.”

Sooyoung bit her bottom lip as she leaned closer once more and pressed her lips against yours. Her lifts are extremely soft, and left the subtle taste of strawberries. She followed the kiss up with another, and then another. Each successive kiss clouds your sense of judgment, as you feel your defenses weakening and surrendering to her. You begin to reciprocate, the erotic lust building up inside you as the beautiful woman on your lap lets you indulge in the savory taste of her lips.

“We-we can’t do this to Heejin…” you say, breaking away from Sooyoung.

“Oh please.” Sooyoung said, another erotic smirk on her face as she kisses you once more. “Yerim and Hyejoo constantly talk about how hard you fuck them. Young girls are cute, but you need a real woman. Let mommy satisfy you.”

Sooyoung kisses you once again, using a lot more force this time. You feel your tongue reciprocating, crashing against her own. Your hands make their way from her toned and chiseled abs to her bottom, grabbing hold of her firm and smooth cheeks through her jeans. You feel her smiling as she continues kissing you. Pulling away after several minutes, you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

“Mommy…” you moaned out.

Sooyoung’s lips are hungry, craving the taste of yours once more. Feeling you squeeze her ass causes her to grind on your lap. Her moans echo inside your mouth with each sensation you bring to her. Her hands move from the back of your neck back to your shirt as you feel her slowly begin to undress you.

Sooyoung manages to pull your shirt up over your head before planting a rough kiss on your neck. You moaned out as she tossed your shirt away. Wanting to taste her lips once more, you were prevented from doing so as Sooyoung found the hem of your pants. Her small, soft hands reach inside and remove your pants, tossing them along with your shirt. Biting her bottom lip, her eyes widen with excitement as she sees a prominent bulge forming through your cotton boxers.

She blows a kiss up at you before grabbing your boxers and pulling the thin fabric down. Your cock is now fully exposed, the cold nighttime air feeling comfortable on your exposed skin thanks to the thin slit of the tent’s entrance.

“I knew it was big in videos but fuck… your cock is so nice.” Sooyoung said, licking her lips at the sight of your throbbing erection. Grabbing a hold of its base, she gives you a painfully slow lick all the way to its tip, causing you to involuntarily close your eyes shut.

“Fuck, mommy…” you moaned, her tongue continuing to paint long strokes on the underside of your shaft. She swirls her tongue on the tip of your cock, collecting the precum that is beginning to leak out and replacing it with a generous amount of spit she collected from her mouth. She uses her tongue to expertly spread the fluid across your cock. You watched as your long time friend meticulously applied her spit across every inch of your shaft. Your cock is now glistening thanks to the portable light that is inside the tent. She grabs your shaft with her small hand and uses it to slowly begin stroking you.

Your eyes remain shut as you feel her apply several techniques such as counter rotating her grip on your cock and smooth up and done strokes. Her hands work your cock with ease, thanks to the copious amount of spit she applied onto it. Your moans continue to grow in length as Sooyoung makes you feel good.

“You like when mommy strokes you, baby?” she asked.

“Fuck…”

“Well, you’re going to love this.”

You moaned loudly as Sooyoung’s lips wrap around your cock, her warm and wet mouth coupled with the extremely tight grip her lips and hand have on your shaft causes your senses to run wild. She begins by only sucking the top half of your cock, never going past just a few inches from your tip. Combining that with stroking your shaft and the erotic gaze she has on you is already too much. Sooyoung is amused by your constant moans and seeing you tilt your head back in satisfaction.

The two of you are momentarily startled as you hear something loud next to you.

“Mommy… what is that?” you asked, a bit alarmed at how fast you have grown to accept Sooyoung’s self-assigned nickname.

Sooyoung begins taking more of you into her mouth as her hands grip onto your thighs. She takes you in her mouth and increases the speed at which she is sucking your cock, taking you deeper inside. You opened your eyes to find her bob her head, effortlessly deepthroating you. The tight seal her lips have around your shaft heightens the experience as your tip hits the back of her throat. Her tongue continues to drag up and down the underside of your shaft, leaving you in a constant state of euphoric bliss.

“It’s nothing, probably just Heejin snoring or something. Focus on mommy, baby.” she said before focusing her attention back onto your cock and guiding your hand to the back of her head. You brush aside her hair and gently caress the back of her head to guide her movements as Sooyoung smiles with your cock inside her mouth. You somehow managed to find the energy to stand up as you place both hands on her head and begin to fuck her mouth. Sooyoung’s bobbing motions become more forceful, the back of her throat repeatedly being stricken as you continuously push the back of her head down your crotch. Tears begin to spill from her eyes as you force her to take every inch of your cock. Repeating this several times, you finally hold her head down, hearing her gag as her nails dig deeply into your thighs. The ecstasy of having Sooyoung’s warm and wet mouth full of your cock is a wonderful feeling.

Sooyoung taps at your thigh, wanting you to release your hold on her. Quickly retreating from your cock, she gasps for air. Spit begins to seep down her lips and chin, landing back down onto your shaft which in turn is beginning to drip down onto the tent’s floor. She gives you the naughtiest smile ever, licking her lips in satisfaction before spitting on your cock once more. You have gotten head from Heejin and several of her friends, but this could be one of the best as well as the messiest you have received.

Your heart races once more as Sooyoung stands up and quickly removes her crop top and jeans.

“Holy fuck…”

Sooyoung had a wonderful figure. A nice hourglass shape that showed off her definite abdomen and flat stomach, hips that complemented beautifully sculpted thighs, and a pair of perky, yet comfortably sized breasts. This, combined with Sooyoung’s milky white skin, straight chestnut brown hair that gracefully fell down her shoulders, large, sharp piercing gaze and her beautiful smile left you in complete disbelief that you never noticed how truly beautiful she was during your university days.

“You like mommy’s body don’t you, baby?” Sooyoung asked, earning a simple nod as a response from you. She makes her way back onto your lap, sitting just in front of your throbbing cock. She could feel you poking the back of her butt. Running her thumbs across your cheeks, sweetly she plants another tender kiss on your lips.

“You should’ve slept with me in college. I practically threw myself at you. I joined the dance club because I knew you were in it.” she said shyly in between kisses.

“But right now, mommy wants to ride your cock.”

You placed your hands on Sooyoung’s deadly hips, earning you another soft kiss. She places one hand on your chest while the other reaches down and finds your cock, positioning it so that it is underneath her. Sooyoung slowly lowers herself onto you, both of you letting out a loud moan as you enter her for the very first time.

“Fuck, baby…” Sooyoung moaned as her mouth opened while her eyes closed. Her pussy was tight, which was to be expected given her figure. But you didn’t expect it to be this tight. Both of you begin to breathe heavily as she continues to lower herself onto your cock. Your eyes roll back into your head as you marvel at the warm and tightness of Sooyoung’s pussy. She kisses you once more in order to allow the both of you to compose yourselves before placing both hands on your chest as she slowly lifts herself up before returning back down. The both of you appreciate how tight she is as her walls grip onto your cock and squeeze them. Sooyoung in particular relishes in the feeling of your cock parting her tight lips and filling her up.

She soon establishes a comfortable rhythm, increasing her pace gradually as her hips move forwards and backwards. She begins riding your cock faster with each bounce of her body. Your hands leave her hips in order to return back onto her ass. You savored how soft her skin felt, squeezing her supple cheeks before giving them a slap. Sooyoung let out a moan, laughing as you two made eye contact. The glint in her eyes let you know she was being turned on, which was also evident from your cock becoming even more wet. You continued smacking her ass, increasing in force with each one. Her moans grew louder, soon becoming high pitched screams. You feel her body shudder from how tender her ass has become.

Your hands eventually find their way to her stomach. You trace the definition of her abdomen, clear evidence that she has put in a lot of time at the gym. You were certain you could feel your cock inside her through her chiseled abs. Next, you moved on to her chest. While certainly much smaller than Hyejoo and Yerim, her breasts fit perfectly in your hands. You gave each multiple squeezes as you felt how soft they were. Pinching her nipples, Sooyoung moaned as she continued riding you.

Stimulating her upper body motivates Sooyoung’s lower body, as she increases her pace and rides your cock even faster. You feel her slamming down against you, her soft ass hitting your thighs with each bounce. Your hands returned back onto her hips as you caressed her sweat misted skin.

“Mommy wants to ride you all night.”

Sooyoung kissed you, biting onto your lower lip and holding on as she gently pulled on it. She grabbed your hands and placed them back onto her tits. You loved the feeling of being inside her, every sensation coursed through your veins. You wanted nothing more than to be used by her.

Sooyoung rode you with such force that you were sure all the other neighboring tents knew what was going on inside yours.

“I hope Sooyoung unnie doesn’t break him. He hasn’t fucked me in months.” Yerim said to herself softly as she heard the moans coming from your tent.

Sooyoung’s juices flowed vigorously out of her pussy as she continued riding you.

“Mommy’s going to cum, baby.” she managed to say.

You bit her nipple and that was all it took to trigger her orgasm. She entered a slightly euphoric trance as her pussy tightened on your cock and her body violently shook. Enough juices were released that you were almost pushed out of her. She enthusiastically bounced her hips on your cock as she rode out her high.

“Fuck, that was incredible.” Sooyoung said, breathing heavily. “But now it’s your turn, baby. Cum for mommy.” she said, riding you slowly as she interlocked your fingers with her own.

“Cum inside me.”

She used the little strength she had left to slam herself back down onto your cock. Sooyoung wanted to drain you, makeup for all the years lost that you weren’t inside her. Her hair was a disheveled, sweaty mess. The once thin layer of perspiration on her body were now beads that were constantly dripping. And the feeling of her breasts bouncing along with her ass smacking against your skin made her look even more appetizing than she already was. You wanted to finish inside her mouth, but would never turn down a request to cum inside a woman.

And so you laid there as Sooyoung rode your cock without a care for your feelings, her sweaty thighs that slapped against your own. The pleasure inside both of your abdomens rapidly grows.

“Mommy’s going to make me cum.” you cried as Sooyoung’s eyes lit up in satisfaction. She let out a moan with each bounce up and down your cock. Her lust filled eyes begging for you to finish inside her.

“Cum for mommy.” she said. You groaned loudly as you thrusted inside her in rapid succession before your cock throbbed, Sooyoung knowing this as she slammed her body onto you several more times until she took all of you inside her. The both of you let out a satisfied moan as you both feel your cock filling up her tight pussy and draining your heavy balls.

“Oh, baby… That’s it. Fill mommy’s pussy up with your hot, thick cum.” she said, kissing your forehead, nose, and both cheeks before capturing your lips once more. You were a bit uneasy, since it seemed like Sooyoung wanted to keep riding your cock. And while you wouldn’t have minded that, you were still sensitive from the intense orgasm.

Both of you spent a few moments resting - your chests heaving as you gave each other long, satisfied kisses. Sooyoung gingerly removed her body from your cock, each inch glistening from her juices. You both watched as your load began to leak out and coat her flushed thighs. Her bright pink freshly fucked pussy lips looked so beautiful. You were sure she was going to let you taste them eventually.

Tracing your cum that was leaking out, Sooyoung took it onto one of her fingertips and put it in her mouth. She let out a satisfied hum afterwards.

“Fuck, you taste good. Mommy better taste your next load.”

The two of you were exhausted, passing out shortly after as she snuggled into your chest.

The next morning, you exited the tent with Sooyoung clinging onto your arm. You were greeted by Yerim who had a warm smile for you, as she made an okay sign to Sooyoung and winked at her. Heejin returned to your campsite carrying bottles of water, wearing your hoodie you gave to her on your very first date. A sad expression was seen in her eyes as she saw you smiling while being held by Sooyoung. The happy feeling you have soon fades as you thought about your girlfriend.

Perhaps Heejin wanting to have sex the entire night so that you two would be too tired to go was her way of saying she didn’t feel comfortable about this trip. Perhaps you are overthinking things and it’s just Heejin being her sex addicted self. You always told yourself you only loved Heejin.

But the thought of having missed out on a relationship with Sooyoung in university and the natural chemistry with Hyejoo and Yerim began to manifest itself inside your mind.

#asks #loona #loona smut #ha sooyoung

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suoyou · 3 years ago

Text

[wip] 一日三秋; one day, three autumns

1633 words, rated t.

a complete chapter 2 in an incomplete series of oneshots titled 一日三秋; one day, three autumns, in which wwx is the autumn king and lwj is the winter prince.

ch 1.

they say that missing someone is the most powerful force of pain a person will know. a pain that can wilt the heart. a pain to carry. a pain that can turn one day into three autumns.

In the middle of Lan Wangji’s left thigh is a scar, round and hollow in the center, like a coin. It had been a burn once, angry blisters deadening into a purple keloid into, now, a little white moon on his skin.

Of the five floors of the castle, Lan Wangji is only allowed in three. Evidently, little does it matter that he is the only other heir to the Winter Throne should his brother ever be incapable of holding it; he’s often pictured how woefully unprepared he would be should the Kingdom of Summer ever revolt again, or, as the Defectress Luo Qingyang had promised, if the Autumn King showed up seeking revenge.

For what, Lan Wangji doesn’t know.

“You don’t need to know,” has always been his uncle’s reply.

“You won’t need to know if I have any say in it,” is what his brother says, kind, still double-edged.

“You should know,” said the Defectress Luo Qingyang, over her teacup, and jade has never looked so threatening, “that your kingdom is still carrying out the crimes of war right under your nose, and if your family does not wake up, the Autumn Kingdom will leave the decade-long peace treaty in the dust the same way you have.” She said it all like she was simply commenting on the races. The Jin Imperial Family was winning.

“How do you know? What kind of war crimes?” asked Lan Wangji. He’d spoken too brusquely, but Luo Qingyang hadn’t been fazed. All around them, the Dragon Boat Festival surged on, air humid and painted green-red-blue, an overfull tea kettle of a day. “Why is it your concern?”

“That you think it shouldn’t be my concern is the same line of thinking that got your Kingdom into this mess,” she said, and her words have been ringing in Lan Wangji’s ears ever since, an unwelcome jabber of sparrow song and raven squawks that won’t leave him hours later. The telltale signs of spring. She holds her position well.

“What kind of war crimes?” he repeated.

She’d taken her time sipping the rest of her tea before placing her empty cup on the table to be taken away. “Do you recall, when the Wen Imperial Family went rogue and the Snowfire Wars tore the lands apart,” she said, “there was a division of mages known as the Core Reapers?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t really believe, do you, that they simply vanished after those wars?”

Lan Wangji had stared at her.

The Core Reapers had vanished after the Snowfire Wars. They’d ridden through the war-torn battlegrounds after blood had been spilled like red ghosts, gathering the dying bodies of civilians and mages alike to, as Lan Wangji had heard, harvest their cores. Word was that the Wen Imperial Family was creating elixirs, weapons, medicines out of them. Hearsay had it that they were creating monsters.

He stares at his scar now, where his jade pendant had burned him through three layers of clothing thirteen years ago, and had never lit up again. In the dusk of the evening, it’s almost invisible, as if it had never existed—vanished, like the Reapers, after the war.

Lan Wangji stands up and shrugs his outer robe back on. Unthinkingly, he opens the drawer where he keeps that pendant, like it’ll have answers for him. It doesn’t. Jade does not dull with age, but in the red velvet of the drawer it could be leached bone. A small one—a skull bone.

Lying beside it is its bonded match. Once they had been identical, though Lan Wangji’s pendant was wrapped in blue ribbon. The other is broken on one side and missing a segment, red knotting and tassels unraveled, the jade circle incomplete like a horseshoe. When the Snowfire Wars raged around him, Lan Wangji wore his half of the pair with more attention and care than when he carried his sword.

“Wangye,” his attendant inclines her head when he opens his pavilion doors.

“I have some personal work to attend to. Can you see to it that, if any of my family seeks me, to let them know I will greet them accordingly when I return?”

“Yes, Wangye.”

So he goes.

Three of the Kingdom’s floors are aboveground. Two are below. He’s been to three in the middle—never the topmost, never the bottomost, and he’s not sure what he’s looking for. He has to look, to be sure, or else it will be another evening of Luo Qingyang’s voice in his head, jerking him awake long before dawn.

Strange dreams have been plaguing him since the Dragon Boat festival, the sorts of dreams that someone would tell themselves didn’t mean anything. The night of the festival Lan Wangji had gone to bed and found himself in a place where the sun never set, simply bobbing up and down in the sky, turning from green to gold and back again as the days and nights passed. Then, the next night, the scar on his thigh had opened up and begun bleeding afresh, and no matter what magic he used, it would not stop. The more magic he used, the more blood poured down his leg.

Last night, he dreamed of Wei Ying. Not in the way he’d been in life, so bright that Lan Wangji couldn’t bear to look at him sometimes.

The Kingdom of Winter had been blanketed in snow for their cycle, and Lan Wangji was in the woods outside the royal walls alone. A dark sweep of Core Reapers had passed by. Their hoods had been drawn over their heads. It looked as if the entire forest was bleeding.

One of them in the center of their tight pool of red had paused and turned their heads, and under the scarlet, mink-lined hood had been Wei Ying’s face.

Lan Wangji shakes himself as he greets the guards that stand outside the gates into the Kingdom’s undergrounds. A question floats through their expressions but they open the gates for him without question, bowing again as he passes.

He picks his way through the first underground level without wasting his time. Here they keep their forbidden texts, their spoils of war, here they hold sensitive political meetings. A damp, sweet smell of soil clutches fat little hands at his robes, happy for visitors, and he raises his hand to upright some of the overgrown vines and planters that line the walls. His hand glows a dim blue, and the drooping foliage picks its flower heads up again. Blooms are coming.

Even if he’s never made the descent into the lowest floor of the Kingdom, Lan Wangji knows there are two ways to get there—the prisoners’ entrance in the Pavilion of Discord, and the one he faces now. The jailers’ entrance, through the Hall of Justice.

He doesn’t feel particularly just, facing the round door that he knows will take him down the staircase into the Kingdom’s dungeons.

Blue fires light his way.

In times of peace, there aren’t many prisoners to speak of. The few that the Kingdom of Winter persecutes are petty thieves, suspected spies, and the occasional revolutionist, all of which are bent into fearful submission before they ever even make it to the dungeons. Lan Wangji knows it. He’s seen it.

And he’s right, almost, for at least part of the dungeon. It’s bright and clean, with mainly empty cells, but the blue fires end abruptly in the middle of the long walkway between the rows. There are scuffles, noises of things living, hushed in the gloom. He pauses and strains his eyes. Then he lifts his hand, summoning some of the fires in the torches to his palm to light his way.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see. Prisoners, perhaps, curled up like hungry mice.

The icy sheen of his fire falls over the bodies in the cells, and Lan Wangji frowns before he steps back, breath stuttering in his chest.

They are prisoners. It’s the most human thing left about them. Some of them have lost all their hair, ragged clumps gathering in rolls thick as dead cats beside them. Others have clawed their own backs bloody, as if they’d been trying to dig their own spines out of their bodies, and still others were covered in a thick, tarry ooze, as if blood and lymph had leaked out of them and gained its own sentience. One of them lay in silence with a stained white strip of cloth over his eyes, a line at his neck like his head had been stitched back on.

Lan Wangji’s stomach writhes, hot and sick, in his belly.

The end of the walkway widens into a larger chamber where no one is kept, but as he passes his fire over the space he can make out the outlines of odd contraptions—long rods with fluted holes, boards with three holes in them—one larger, two smaller, for a neck and hands. A splintered wooden gurney like a rotting log. Old blades sprout off of it like oyster mushrooms. They blink sleepily back at him, eyes in the night. A bizarre device like a chair, outfitted with two horns on both sides. Anyone sitting in it would have their head position between the mouths of both.

He frowns. A long skein of red fabric has been tossed carelessly over the back of the chair, wrinkles rounded and warm. A cloak. Someone’s just taken it off.

“Wangji,” a voice comes from behind him, “what are you doing down here?”

#fic wip #wx #incomplete

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