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chifuyusfingers · 3 years

Note

Im obsessed with ur coloring in the boys tattoos works!! Could you do the reverse? Where they color in yours? With whoever u want!

~Tokyo revengers members Coloring Their S/O Tattoos.~

Mikey | Draken | Baji | Chifuyu

{Heya! I didn't put much into it but I hope you like it! And thank you though!}

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M i k e y

You had no hesitation letting him color your tattoos. “Have fun, babe.” You pinched your cheek and relaxed under the big tree you were both sitting under. Today you had thrown all your plans away just to be with mikey all day.

The wings on your forearm was now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of yellow. “So, besides today, how have you been lately?” Your gaze swayed from him to the inside of your eyelids as you were drifting to sleep slowly. “Okay, I suppose. School is annoying.” He laughed and your heart twinged with love.

You chuckled and looked down at your arm. "Mikey you done?" All you could hear was just a "hm".

“Let’s just rest for a little bit I'm tired.” You pushed the markers into the grass and your arm wrapped itself around his waist as you pulled him down and into your side. Mikey couldn’t fight it as his ear was filled with the sound of your mellowing heartbeat. Your fingers danced in his hair till you knew he was fast asleep.

You stayed awake just looking at his angelic features as the sight of your multi-colored arm shifted your focus. It was so meaningless to him but you loved it as you knew that it came from his heart and mind.

It was him– perfect.

~~~

B a j i

“Y/n! ” Baji called as he stepped into the large house. “I believe she's in the gazebo or her office, Mr.” One of the worked associates greeted baji at the front door. He grabbed the bags from baji's arms as he started walking. He was off towards the back of the house to find his fiancee.

“Y/n-!” he called as he rounded the corner of the house and into the back yard. The gazebo was empty. He stopped and stared for a moment. He was sure that this is where she'd be.

“Up here, my love.” A voice said as he looked up to see Y/n at her office balcony. “Hey there” he waved as your eyes squinted in a smile. “How was your day out?” you asked as you brought your teacup up to your lips. “It was okay~I have something to show you!” he called and held up a small shopping bag in his large hand. “I’ll be right up!” he raced back into the house and up the stairs to where you already stood waiting for him in the doorway to your office.

“What’s so amazing that you found today?” your eyebrow raised and he opened the bag quickly. “But first-” You interrupted you as you grabbed his face gently and gave him a passionate kiss. “What’s this for?” he asked as he continued to stare at your face lovingly. “Just happy to see you is all.” You smiled.

“Now, show mee.” he motioned to one of his hands that was stuck in the bag he held. He was brought back to reality and pulled the plastic package out of the bag.

“…Markers?” you asked and your tone of voice made him laugh. “Not just any markers. They’re tattoo markers. They’re safe for the skin.” He corrected you and you rolled your eyes. “You’re still on this?” You asked with an amused expression. “Of course I am! This was the deal and my love for you is way too much so.” he said shoving them into your hands so you could inspect the box.

You read the back and you had to admit he was right.

“You said I could color your tattoos IF I found tattoo markers. Safe for the skin and everything!” You knew he did it and that you had to hold up your part of the deal. “Okay fine.” You sighed as you handed the package back. “Yay! Beautiful Thank you!” He jumped and laid a gentle kiss on your nose.

“We can do it later before dinner.” You agreed.

—-

“Finally! You take forever.” He sighed as you moved your sunglasses up your nose. The grass tickled your bare legs as baji sat next to you. “I couldn’t help it. Chifuyu that jackass didn’t want to hang up the phone.” he stood on his knees and moved behind you. His hands gently rubbed your shoulders as your head fell in an exasperated manner.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Y/n. But, I called you out here for the deal. Not a massage.” You whined as you flopped down on the grass, your t-shirt lifting on your back.

“If this stains, I will make sure to throw out all color in your life. Your life will be a dull kaleidoscope-” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, you big baby.” He laughed and opened his pouch full of the tattoo markers.

He lifted the back of your shirt more till the full picture was revealed. A dragon with demons following was the full picture- a dark reality…that he were going to make colorful. What can he do he loves your tattoos so much.

He sat on his lower back and got to work filling in the different parts of the dragon. Every once in awhile you would spasm and try to make him mess-up. Yet, with a slight tug on your hair, you would become limp and obedient again.

“I’m almost done.” Was the phrase that almost made you weep with joy. “Finally.” You let it slip and you felt a tug on your hair again. “Ow.” You rubbed your head. You could feel him draw and move the felt-tipped weapons on his back.

“Finished.” He cheered and grabbed his phone to take a picture. He showed it to you and ombre scaled decorated the dragon with the demon’s faces were colored red and blue. It looked nice. You saw a couple of smiley faces hidden in there and felt like everything looked complete.

“Okay, my turn now!” You yelled and grabbed his arm. You struggled and pulled him to the ground and grabbed the black marker that was in his hand. “Y/n, no.” he said strictly. “This wasn’t apart of the deal.” He expressed. “Excuse me? Sorry, I don’t speak Japanese.” Your english rambled off quickly from your tongue. He decided to just deal with it as you took your time drawing a mustache on his face along with random doodles you could think of.

You finally stopped your antics and took a picture with your phone to look at afterward. “You look so cute, look!” You pulled up the picture and shoved it in his face. “I look gross man!” He ridiculed but you wrapped him up in your arms quickly,

“My gross man.”

D r a k e n

You were on your period and hell you were pissed, your mood swings were just making the situation more shitty.

Draken on the other hand was just trying to help you but every now and then you'd snap at him for absolute no reason. "Oi, can you stop whining for once?"

He said with pretty much no emotion at all. And that's all it took for you to break down in tears.

Draken was taken aback, "babe hey, hey, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that please stop crying- I". “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?” He asked and you looked around, surprised he was asking. “Um-” He didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed your legs– pulling you closer to where he sat.

Draken took the permanent markers out which was on the floor for god knows why. You wiped the rest of your tears and grabbed the orange marker out of his hand. He lifted the sleeve of his long shirt and created the grid in black ink. “Wanna go first?” He asked and you took the opportunity to land an 'X’ in the grid.

“Fine. You win this tournament. But, I know I’ll win next time.” You said laying back and closing his eyes.

The bottom of your shirt lifted and he could see the familiar black ink on your side. “Stop staring at me like that, pervert. I have rights.” You pulled your shirt down and he let a laugh rip through your chest.

“Chill. I was just looking at your tattoo.” He said and you shrugged. “What about 'em?” You asked as his eyes closed once more. “Nothing. Just looking,” he sighed, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist before all of this.” One eye peeked open and you looked suspiciously at his figure. “Are you any good?"

Draken just chuckled at your question.

“Give me one!” You lifted the side of your shirt and waited patiently.

He shrugged, finding nothing else better to do. You already had black ink staining your skin so he decided to add on. It was another simple dragon but it fit your character and personality perfectly.

Time seemed to slow as you tried to take a sneak peek of the masterpiece he were currently working on. You planned to take a picture later and get it done, yet, it would have to be in secret.

All of a sudden, the bedroom door popped open. “Welcome back to Earth.” Mikey greeted. He capped the marker and helped you up.

"Why are you here" You asked while getting up, "Rude Y/n Chan, I'm still gonna answer your question though POLITELY, Ken-chin called us here so that we can go on a short trip or something to make your day better. Right ken-chin". Mikey looked over at draken, "Right whatever, can we go now?" He looked over at you for your response and all you did was kissed his neck because of your damn height and tagged along behind Mikey.

“Woah. You got a new tattoo?” Hina said as she lifted up your shirt and you shooed her hands away.

“Eventually.”

C h i f u y u

"I GONNA THROW UP ON YOU WITH ALL MY MIGHT IF YOU TRY TO GET NEAR MY TATTOOS MISTER " You exclaimed loudly as he started following you like a lost puppy around the kitchen, where you were busy making your 'grilled cheese'.

"Babe C'mom little color won't hurt and it's not like I'm trying to bite your tattoos off-". " See, there you said it, you're exactly gonna bite my tattoos off" Chifuyu sighed having enough of your nothings, he suddenly back hugged you, you can feel his large hands wrapped around your hip.

"What do you think you're doing?". You asked as you turned around to see his face,

"If you're not gonna let me color your tattoos then I prefer to stick with you like a koala, and you sure as hell know I ain't letting go." Chifuyu said and you eventually gave up because you knew nothing will change even if you don't agree with fuyu.

So now here you are sitting on chifuyu's lap as he continued to color the wallflower on your shoulder. "You done?". "Hold on a minute babe it's almost over, -All done" Chifuyu replied.

You sat up and started making your way to the mirror to see what he actually did " Y/N!!! Wait" chifuyu voice said and you turned around to see your boyfriend running over to you.

"Wha-", before you could finish your sentence he lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder. "The actual fuck chifuyu, what did you do! PUT ME DOWN YOU ASS"

"It's just better if you don't see it ya know, and I'll make sure you don't see it until I leave" Chifuyu chuckled quietly as he continued making his way to your bedroom.

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#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #manjiro sano x reader #draken x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu x y/n #baji x y/n #baji x reader #mikey sano #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers anime #takemichi hanagaki #chifuyu imagines #mikey scenarios #anime imagines

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

Agent whisky (Teacher) x New agent (student). As you’re both fighting, you both get hot and bothered and reader throws him against a wall and the rest in folds. (Fem reader)

After Class [Jack Daniels x Reader] SMUT

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, creampie, choking, teacher x student, exhibitionist kink, implied age difference

Masterlist

He was insufferable. He was your teacher — and oh, you hated him. You hated how he'd come into class smelling like sweet, honeyed cologne, causing all the girls to swoon at the mere sight of him. It was laughable, really. He wasn't anything special. He was attractive, sure. He had the charm of a king and the politeness of a saint. But it didn't matter because you hated him, and you wanted him to know that you hated him. So you'd talk during his lectures and you'd roll your eyes whenever he tried addressing you directly. He had this know-it-all attitude, he had these deep, chocolate brown eyes that were so easy to get lost in. The Statesman Academy shouldn't have even hired him. It was so easy to get lost in those damn eyes.

His eyes were just a few shades darker than his hair, which he kept hidden under a cringe-worthy cowboy hat. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't dreamt of wearing it while you ride him. The dirty fantasies about Mr Daniels (though he'd have you call him 'sir') didn't become regular until a few months ago. Now it was every single class where you became hypnotised by his attractive looks.

You hated his perfectly groomed mustache and how the thought of it brushing against your cunt haunted you during his seminars. You hated the perfect curve in his nose and how you imagined it nudging against your clit as he performed the most life changing oral on you. If only he knew about the things that went on in that filthy little mind of yours.

You practically gasped out loud when Mr Daniels dropped your assignment on the desk in front of you, a circle with a big red 'F' marked on. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, before moving on to hand out the rest of the essays. No way— there was no way that your essay has been marked fairly. You might have been slacking just a little this semester (due to Mr Daniels obnoxious handsome looks), but not to the extent of getting an F in your finals!

"Well done class, we all performed exceptionally well this term. There is however one person I need to see after class, she knows who she is," Mr Daniels glanced briefly at you and you narrowed your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. "But have an excellent vacation and remember don't party too hard." He winked cheekily before dismissing the class. Once the students filed out of the room, and the bell rang, signifying the end of the day, Mr Daniels stalked back into the classroom. He said nothing, didn't even spare you a look. He padded over to his desk, sunk into his chair and began to go through paperwork.

You waited for something— anything. The silence was deafening, and you began to tap your feet against the floor impatiently. Why the hell was he holding you hostage in his stuffy classroom on the last day of term? You assumed it was due to your abysmal grade on your essay, but he hadn't even mentioned it. He was ignoring you and once again, you hated him for it.

You were staring him out with absolutely no shame, taking in all his features. You admired his broad shoulders and watched his bicep flex as he wrote comments on the work he was checking through.

He'd noticed your staring too. He always had. He tried to contain the blush that crept up on his cheeks as your eyes burned into his body, watching his every move. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. If he was going to speak to you about your essay result, he'd need to have a drink first. After a few more minutes of silence, he excused himself and left the classroom. Each professor at the academy had their own affinity for alcohol, Mr Daniels' beverage of choice being a glass of warm whiskey. He poured it into a small tumbler, admiring the amber liquid as he dropped a few cubes of ice in, letting it clink against the glass. The mere thought of you in his classroom, waiting for you, was enough to make his cock stir. He sighed, gulping down the liquid and made his way back to the classroom. It was the first time you and Mr Daniels had some one on one alone time. He hadn't drank enough to get intoxicated, but it was enough for him to lower his inhibitions.

He walked into the classroom and locked the door behind him, before turning to face you.

"Why am I here?" you asked with an unamused frown.

"You went from being a straight A student to getting an F in your most important exam of the year," Mr Daniels huffed with a disappointed shake of his head. You didn't care— no, you couldn't let yourself care about your professor. But seeing the despondency written across his face was enough to make your heart yearn with guilt for letting him down. "What happened?" he quizzed you eventually.

You considered his question. You weren't a dishonest person, and you knew exactly what had happened. You had been so distracted by your professor's ravenous demeanor, that you'd become too overcome with sexual desire to even focus the slightest in his lectures.

"You happened." you said, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. Your voice broke slightly— you sounded pathetic.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising both of his eyebrows in disingenuous surprise. You wanted to wipe the smirk that you saw creeping up on his lips. Your education wasn't a joke.

"I was doing fine in Agent Tequila's class," you acknowledged. "Maybe it's your teaching." you shrugged.

"My teaching?" Mr Daniels gasped incredulously.

"Oh quit playing dumb," you said, suddenly rising to your feet. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stalked over to your teacher. "I know my worth Mr Daniels, and it's not an F."

"Please, call me Jack." He hummed, reaching out and caressing your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into his smooth hand as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your jaw. You hadn't even realised how close he had gotten to you as he admired your face, and the intimacy began to take effect down below.

"Oh, first name basis?" you spat sarcastically, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest, threading your fingers through the buttons of his white shirt so you could gently graze the skin of his tan chest. "How polite."

"Manners maketh man," he smirked, quoting the Statesman mantra, and you wanted to wack that dumb cowboy hat off his head. "Let me translate that for you," he pouted condescendingly, letting his hands fall to your own chest.

He squeezed your tits through your blouse, drawing a few wanton moans from you. "Wh- what makes you think I need that translated?" you asked your professor, trying to keep your cool. This is exactly what you had dreamt about for the past three months. His thumb rolled over your hardening nipples, pinching them now and again so he could watch you squirm underneath his touch.

"The F on your paper?" he shot back. Your eyes widened and you pushed him into the wall, his back slamming against the concrete as he groaned from the pressure you'd placed on him. He would be lying if he said it didn't feel good though. It was rare he'd have a lady take charge — especially not one as young and bright eyed as yourself.

"I hate you," you snarled as his fingers dipped under the hem of your short, pleated skirt. He chuckled darkly, sending a frenzy of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"Oh sugar," he drawled, the smell of scotch lacing his breath as he pressed a soft kiss into your jaw. You couldn't contain the small whimper that escaped your lips. He smirked, knowing exactly what he could do to you— how he could make you feel. "Look at you… got me pressed against the wall. I'm your teacher." he reminded you with a small tut.

"You drive me crazy," you admitted in a fluster, your hand falling down his button up shirt and resting at his oversized belt buckle. The coolness of the metal stung your skin as you parted your legs slightly, rubbing what you could on his jean clad thigh. "When you stand up there, in front of the class, talking all that shit about, about-" you couldn't even get your words out as his fingers graced your cunt, feeling out your clit under the material of your dampening panties.

"What?" Jack murmured, his teeth grazing your jaw as he sucked softly against your skin. "What is it?" he urged you to continue, your breathing jumping as he continued to softly press his thick fingers along your aching core. You tried to answer but nothing except lewd moan came out, and you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "You joined the academy. You wanted to train as an agent. Maybe you'd prefer it if I transferred your classes to, let's say, Agent Champ? Or the sweet Ginger Ale?"

You curled your fingers around his leather belt. "N-no," you growled. "I want you," you revealed as you unclipped it and tossed it to one side. You groaned wantonly as you felt his erection press up against your thigh. It was clear that your professor wanted you too. "You know if- if Principal Champ finds out about this…" you moaned, working your fingers at Jack's zipper.

"He's not going to find out about this," Jack snapped, his harsh tone causing your eyes to snap open.

"O-okay cowboy," you bit your lip seductively, finally pulling his zipper down and freeing his hard, aching cock. You immediately wrapped your hand around him, smearing his precum down his length and started to pump at his erection, satisfied with the string of curses falling from his tongue.

"Fuck- so good," Jack praised as you worked his cock with your hands. "But I want more… I want to bury my cock in the warmth of your pussy. Would you like that baby girl?" he hummed, both his hands grabbing on your shoulders as he turned around and pushed you into the wall. You gasped as he ripped open your blouse in one swift manouver, the buttons popping and falling everywhere. His hungry lips pressed against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly and with passion.

"Someone could just walk in." you gasped as Jack yanked your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles.

He groaned longingly as he played with the waistband of your panties. "Lace? For school? I knew you were a dirty girl." he chuckled darkly before pulling them down. He wasted no time, pressed two fingers into your weeping cunt and rubbing between your folds. He stroked tight and precise circles into your clit, desperate to pump an orgasm out of you before he even entered. Your eyes snapped shut as you pressed your fingernails into his still clothed back. "Oh, you like that don't you?"

"Mm don't stop," you begged, rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Is this what you think about during my lectures?" Jack cooed. "Or do you imagine my cock?" He pressed his blunt tip against the inside of your thigh, pushing himself in between your legs. "So fucking wet and all for me." your professor shook his head in slight awe. You pushed the hat off his head and tangled your fingers in his dark brown hair, tugging teasingly in attempt to gain a reaction out of him.

Without warning, two of his fingers pushed inside of you and began to scissor you open. "If you want my cock I gotta make sure you're able to take it," he whispered huskily.

His fingers worked like magic and it wasn't long before your walls tightened around him and you reached your climax. "Greedy pussy." Jack sighed, removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

"Please sir, fuck me," you begged, your hands cupping his face as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"I told you, call me Jack," he growled before pushing himself deep into your quivering hole.

"Fuck Jack," you whined once he was fully seated. He was bigger than you had ever taken before, and he set a brutal pace. The classroom filled with obscene wet sounds as every single thrust became harder and sloppier as his balls slapped against your dripping cunt.

Jack kept up his pace, not halting once. "You always- you always fucking answer back," he whispered, digging one hand into your hip and bringing the other to your neck, squeezing it just enough for your eyes to widen slightly.

"Mm you always give me a reason too," you shot back and Jack's grip around you tightened as he fucked you senselessly.

"Shit, gonna cum. Gonna cum inside you and you're going to take it— understood?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded in affirmation and it only took a few more messy thrusts before he spilled his salty seed inside you.

He carefully sat you down on the edge of his desk as you came down from your own high. "Are you okay?" he asked you as he tucked himself back in his pants and adjusted his tie.

"That better have earned me an A," you muttered, biting your lip and shooting a seductive glance towards your teacher.

"Fair is fair," Jack shrugged. "You can leave when you're ready. Have a nice vacation." he smiled, back to his usual polite professor self. It made you sick— the way he could just fuck you with no remorse against the wall of his classroom and then pretend like nothing happened.

You stood up, taking your clothes from the ground and lazily sliding back into your skirt. "I don't have a fucking blouse," you mumbled, your eyes following the abundance of buttons that trailed across the floor. "You ruined it."

Mr Daniels took his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked torso, buttoning it up gently so you were all covered up. "Do you need a lift home?" he asked.

You bit your lip, remembering your parents weren't home and smiled. "Actually, yeah please." you told him, wondering if he'd be interested in a round two.

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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Tension (Javier Peña x reader)

gif credits @bestintheparsec

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: mentions of drinking/prostitution, use of the word whore, canon typical violence (shooting), cursing, SOFFTTT Javi (bc I am a hoe for it)

Word count: over 7.1K

Summary: Your relationship with Javier Peña was complex enough and becoming a source to relieve tension for each in a surprising way made it even harder to navigate.

Notes: SURPRISE SHAWTY! I have never written for someone other than Din so I am pretty nervous about this. I love Javi so so so much but I don't know if I write him well. So please give me your honest opinions, like, reblog, share, etc. It means the world to me!

______________________________________

You knew who was knocking at your door before you even opened it. You didn’t know how you always knew but something deep down in you could always just tell, almost instinctually - like your gut knew it before your mind even did. It wasn't like the knock always followed the same pattern. No tell-tale melody that echoed into the still walls of your apartment that clearly indicated whose hand was knocking away. It was always sharp and short but never quiet the same. Yet you knew.

You let out a small puff of air as you dragged your legs over to the door, tossing it open and not even sparing a glance at your visitor as you stumbled to the bottle of whiskey on the empty coffee table you had. “I’m trying to drink into complete oblivion. Go away.”

You poured the golden liquid into the cup, giving yourself a more than fair portion which you greedily gulped. You allowed the warmth of it to wash over you, fill your senses if only for a moment. The silence continued to drag on and you thought that maybe, just maybe, he had left until a husky, hoarse voice spoke out. "Care if I join?"

He sounded exhausted, beaten down. You supposed you sounded the same but it seemed to be more impactful when he was. He sometimes tried to seem so cocky and put together in front of you, didn't ever want his tough façade to crack in front of other people. But in the end, you were both fighting the same battle - one that often left you feeling hollow at the end of the day.

You looked around the apartment you had, your eyes dancing across the plain walls and rarely used furniture. It had become a place for you to merely sleep and drink, and thats if you even had time to drag yourself home. It was empty and lonesome and it had none of the warmth or refuge that a home was supposed to offer. It reminded you of yourself - cold and bare and vacant. And you didn't want to be reminded of that. Hence why you were seeking some semblance of something within the alcohol that danced over your tongue.

Maybe he needed the same. Or maybe you were just hoping he could be the something that would make things a little better.

"Knock yourself out, Peña." you finally spoke, your own voice laced with the kind of exhaustion that was so strong that it made it so you couldn't even sleep. Like sleep and rest was a foreign concept meant for people that weren't you. Meant for people more deserving and more normal. You finally turned as the dark-haired man leant forward, his fingers grazing yours as he grabbed at the bottle. You tried to ignore the rush that ran through you at the contact but after all, isn't that why you allowed him to stay?

He brought the bottle directly to his lips, taking a long sip from it as his eyes fluttered slightly. You scoffed as you walked away, dropping your body on the couch you had and looking up at him. "Thanks for drinking out of the bottle, asshole."

You held out your cup as he neared, allowing him to pull it from his lips and pour it into your glass. Once he had done so, he sat down on the couch next to you and leaned back, letting out a long sigh. You couldn't help the way you studied his face. His brows were furrowed, looking almost stuck in the position, as well as the wrinkles on his forehead that were scrunched up. His neck was trickled with sweat from the baring heat of Columbia as his chest rose and fell, his button-up shirt revealing some of the skin of his collarbone. He took another long sip of the whiskey, bringing the bottle to rest at the coffee table. "This whiskey tastes like shit."

"Then go home and drink your own whiskey." you countered, taking a sip before bringing your own glass down to the table, next to the bottle.

His head lolled over to look at you, brown eyes tracing over your own as you settled into the couch more, bringing your legs up. "I don't want to go home."

The words were said so softly and you understood them. The brokenness and the wear and tear of the job. You tried your best to give him a small smile but was afraid your own face was stuck in a scowl of sorts. "Then don't complain about my liquor."

A small chuckle finally left his lips at your joke, warm air that smelled like cigarettes and whiskey fanning over you. You didn't want to bask in it, show you enjoyed it. But for some reason you did. You had hated the stench of cigarettes before. Thought it was absolutely deplorable. But that was before Peña. Before the smell of cigarettes and liquor always made you think of the DEA agent you had come to simultaneously despise in some ways but also admired greatly in others.

You tried to pull yourself from the endless stream of thoughts that ran through your head, all of which consisting of Javier Peña. But you found it difficult to and you didn't know if it was because the effects of the liquor or the intoxicating pull that he somehow had on you. A small gasp almost left your lips as one of his hands reached out to grab at your knee, coarse fingers gently drawing small movements into your skin that felt like they were being etched into the deepest chamber of your mind. These were the small things that he did that stayed with you. Things you would sporadically remember throughout your day and would make your stomach do twists.

"Peña, what are you doing here?" you asked, not pulling away from his movements despite the future wellbeing of your mind begging you to do so.

"Call me Javier."

You froze, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he turned away from you, staring straight into the bottle that sat in front of him. You couldn't remember a time you had ever called him by his first name. When you had first met him, you had called him Agent Peña and he had teased you for doing so ruthlessly. Saying how your experience in D.C. had made you too much of a goody two-shoes for Columbia. You had resented it at first but ultimately let it get to you, instead calling him just Peña. Calling him his last name had just been a natural thing now, something you always did. First names felt too personal, too deep. Like you were stepping over the lines of work and into a darker territory you couldn't make your way through.

But he had asked.

"Javi, what are you doing here?" you repeated, trying to ignore the way the softer nick name had slipped from your lips rather than his full name. You didn't even know where it came from but it felt more natural.

He let out a small hum, bringing his hand up to run over his face and down his strong nose and past his mustache. "I don't know. Needed some company I guess."

"Isn't that what the whore houses are for?" You didn't mean for it to sound so harsh but the inkling of resentment you held deep within you had managed to slip out. Javier's hand slowly left your knee as he rested them on his thighs, fingers spread and clenching. You shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have made things less civil than they were.

"I guess I wanted your company." he admitted, reaching forward for the bottle and taking a big chug. Your gaze wandered over his back and neck, the muscles seeming so tight. He wasn't relaxing at all. He was so full of tension that it seemed to radiate off him.

You would blame the whiskey on it later, though you knew deep down you hadn't had enough to warrant this behavior from yourself. You would never mention it again. But you let your hand settle on his shoulders, making him freeze. You waited for him to push you away or tell you off, but when he didn't you let your fingers just barely dig into the muscle. His shoulders settled back as he seemed to lean into the touch, his eyes falling closed as his head tilted back softly.

You shimmied your way behind him, each knee on either side of his back as he moved forward to give you more room to settle behind him. You dug your hands in deeper, letting them push into the muscle that seemed as hard as a rock. You pushed into it, worried you had been too hard but a small moan left Javi's lips that sounded like blissful heaven to your ears. It seemed to echo throughout the primarily empty apartment, or maybe that was just your mind playing it over and over again like it was scripture.

"Relax, Javi." you whispered as your hands lowered slightly, digging into the muscles of his back.

A groan this time, one that sounded just as beautiful as the first noise. You closed your eyes, soaking in the contact. You wouldn't admit it but you were desperate for it. Simple touches at the office seemed to light you on fire sometimes. A brush of the shoulder, a hand on your back as he made his way past you, a nudge on your side to get your attention. All of it had felt like so much. But this... this was too much in the most addictive way.

Minutes had passed before your hands made their way up to his neck, lightly massaging the skin there as your eyed his hair. It was always so enticing and so soft. Fuck it. You ran your fingers up and into his hair, letting them spread over his head and he definitely leaned into the touch then, a small sigh leaving his lips.

You knew Javier Peña had been touched. His reputation was no secret. But you wondered if he ever got this. Was physical contact limited to a rough fuck in his apartment with some woman he had to pay afterwards? Or did another's fingers dance and dig and knead into his skin like yours was right now? When was the last time someone had softly ran his hands through his hair with the lone goal to just relax him?

"Bebita..." The word drew out of his lips slowly, almost as if in a prayer. He had called you it once before, shortly after you started, and you had scolded him for it. You remembered the way you had jabbed a finger into his chest, ridiculing him for using such a term with you. But it no longer sounded sinister or condescending like it had that time. It was soft and gentle and you wanted to hear it over and over again. Part of you wanted to beg for it, plead for the word to spill from the lips you admired daily, but you couldn't do it.

Your fingers ran through his hair, down his shoulders and back one last time before you slowly pulled them away. You didn't move from the position you were in, allowing his lower body to pin you against the back of the couch and for your legs to anchor into his sides.

A silence flowed through the room but this one didn't seem as lonesome and volatile as it usually felt when you were by yourself. It was filled with the soft breathing of you and Peña, the small shuffle of his leg as he shifted his head to look back at you. Your breath caught in your throat as he turned his body slightly, eyes staring straight into yours. "Thank you."

You nodded dumbly, your hands coming together so you could twiddle them with the nervousness that filled your body. You were usually so strong, so defiant, so loud. But he had melted you like butter and you felt like you could barely breathe with the way he was looking at you.

When he rose from the couch, you let out a small breath in relief. He would leave, maybe go to one of the women who kept him bed warm, and you could pretend this never happened. Not a word would be mentioned of it and you would see him at the office tomorrow like nothing happened, ignoring the phantom traces of his skin that danced across your fingertips and the way cigarette smoke and the scent of whiskey he exuded seemed to wrap your whole body up and soak you in it like some sort of intoxicating bath.

He slowly made his way to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle but pausing at it. He faced away from you and you looked up at him slowly.

"Goodnight, Peña." Confirmation. It was you telling him to go do what he did and to pretend that you hadn't shared that moment with him. Allow yourselves to both dwindle on it independently but never dare delve into what it just might mean because that would come with answers you don't think either of you were prepared to face.

A small sigh left his lips as he opened the door, offering a small "Goodnight" before he closed it behind him.

Your eyes drifted to the bottle of whiskey, the one his lips had been on, and you brought your hands to your face. The aftershave he used filled your senses and became all you could smell. You tore your hands away and rushed to the small kitchen, where you scrubbed at your hands like they had been stained with blood.

_________

"Thank you for... last night."

Your head whipped up as you found Peña at the head of your desk, hands resting on it as he leant forward so he could quietly speak the words to you, avoiding any other ears that might barge in on such a sensitive topic.

You raised an eyebrow. He wasn't supposed to mention it. He was supposed to pretend it never happened. Not walk to your desk while you were working and thank you for it.

"It's fine, Peña." you said back, trying to keep your voice even and clear. Act like you had nothing to hide. That you had felt nothing and that the feeling of him hadn't been seared into your brain all night and made it impossible to sleep.

You could see Murphy's head pop up slightly, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Pena's softened face and your perplexed one. You cleared your throat and dug a file out from under your desk, opening it and pretending to read the words. But the agent still lingered at your desk, so close that you felt like your chest was tightening up. "You need something, Peña, or just enjoying the view?"

Yes. Sarcastic remarks and plain stares were what you needed. What had to happen because if he looked at you like that anymore and you said something, even the smallest thing, everything would spill over. Peña finally straightened up, fingers dragging off your desk as he looked down at you, his face morphing for the same softness he had used last night to his usual scrunched up eyebrows and plain stare. "No, agent."

You tried to ignore the way the words seemed to be said with some grit, some non-discernible layer that was soaked with annoyance or frustration or maybe even...hurt? You didn't dare look at him again as he walked away, leaving only you and Murphy sitting at your desks. Your eyes traced over the same word over and over again as Murphy let out a small noise.

"Did you sleep with Peña?"

Your head whipped up as your glared at Murphy, the blond-haired man looking slightly intimidated by the harshness in your eyes. "Jesus Christ, Murphy! Do I look like one of Peña's whores?"

"Then what was he thanking you for last night for?"

You had hoped Peña had spoken the words quietly enough but Murphy was after all an agent and could read in between the lines well enough to detect a change in the air between you two. You softened your harsh expression, still giving Murphy a critical look but not one that could kill. "He just... came over for a drink. That's all."

Murphy paused, his eyebrows just slightly bunching together as he looked you up and down like he was trying to find the slightest inconsistency so he could piece together something far more exciting than a drink. But hadn't that been it? A drink and sure, a lousy massage. But nothing else. Nothing special. "A drink?"

"Yes. A drink."

"Why?"

You weren't surprised by the question. You and Peña had a relatively complicated relationship. It had started off with a lot of disdain and aggravation. You were a strong woman, new to Columbia, and you weren't about to be swindled around by the man whore of the DEA. You didn't even have to know the rumors to know that was the case. All it took was walking in the room and seeing his sly looks and flirtatious quips he had given you at first, until he realized you weren't going to fall prey to his good looks and charm.

But once he settled down, realized you were going to be his and Murphy's partner and you were serious about the work, your relationship became amicable. You worked well together - more than you had thought possible initially. You couldn't quiet find out why but you were able to read him pretty well, even more than you usually could with your co-workers. Maybe that was why you always knew it was him knocking or knew when he walked into a room before you even saw him. But you two worked together. So for a while you two remained steady partners with a good work flow.

But once the curtain had been pulled back and you realized Javier Peña might be something other than a work-junkie man whore, you started to appreciate him. You admired his determination and work ethic, because while the man could be brash and a little hot-headed, he had good intentions behind what he did at work. You identified and respected the passion. He wanted to nail Escobar just as badly as you did. Hell, maybe even more. And while it wasn't clear upon first glance and it took you a while to see it, he cared. He cared about people. He might not have loved them but he even cared about the girls from the brothels he visited. He cared about Murphy and you think somewhere deep down, he might of given a shit or two about you.

But it wasn't anything obvious. You don't think anyone would point to you two and remark about how great of friends you were or anything of the sort. In the end, you weren't friends - not really. Or maybe you were in some fucked way that made sense for people like you and Peña. You didn't normally question it. And while you had wondered why he had come to your place for a drink last night, it made sense to you. You couldn't explain why but it just did.

You looked back at Murphy, realizing you had gotten lost in thought and hadn't answered his question. You shrugged slightly, trying to appear non-committal and unbothered. "I don't know. Maybe one of his girls was too busy for him last night."

_________

Five nights. In a row.

You would hear the knock at your door and you would answer every single time, knowing who it was and knowing what would happen. If the whiskey bottle wasn't already out, you would grab it from a cabinet and let him sip from it directly and make a sly comment about how bad it was. There were a couple nights he would try to make conversation but he either didn't know what to say or was too exhausted to try to stall the inevitable. Eventually your hands would land on him and knead into his muscles, stripping it of its tension until he walked out of your apartment.

Javier hadn't bothered to say anything at work again. No additional thank you's or asking if it would happen again. You and him both knew it remained better unspoken and unplanned. You both would rather just have him turn up at your door. Even when it was just you two in the cloak of darkness that wrapped around your apartment, he didn't say anything about it.

Tonight was the first time in a few days you didn't think you would make it home but perhaps to your dismay (or maybe your luck), Javier wouldn't be either. Murphy had given up not long ago at all, leaving the office with a loose tie and frazzled state of mind, muttering something about seeing his wife. The rest of the people had been long gone by then meaning once Murphy left, it was just you and Peña sat at desks across from each other, staring into an endless void of paperwork.

You couldn't tell what time it was, not that it would matter anyways with how much reading you had to do. The less glamorous and exciting side of being a DEA agent meant loads of paperwork and reading, something you hated more than you could describe. You finally blinked, realizing you hadn't done so in a while with the way your eyeballs were stinging. You looked around your desk and let out a grunt. Seven paper cups lined the front of it and you raised an eyebrow. Had you really had seven cups of coffee? Papers were strewn all about, so many little letters that seemed to swim in your mind and become muddled symbols to your weary eyes. The room was mostly dark, except for the glow of your lamp and Javier's.

"You okay?"

You jumped slightly, the sound starling you after what had seemed to be hours of silent reading with the occasional rustle of paper work, sips of caffeine, and puffs of Javier's cigarette. You looked up at Javier who looked just as disheveled as you felt. He had long forgotten his jacket, that was now thrown over the back of his chair with an arm dragging over the floor. His tie was on his desk and a couple buttons of his shirt had been undone. His hair was rustled, like he had been running his hands through it (and looking like it usually did when you were done massaging your own fingers through it). His eyes were lidded but he looked over at you intently.

"Yeah." you croaked out, feeling like the sound of your own voice was foreign after not talking for so long. "Just...exhausted."

"You should go home."

"Nah. I'm not going to sleep. Just drink whiskey and-" You froze. What were going to finish that with? And wait for you to show up at my door?

Peña didn't seem to want you to finish your answer, either because he could fill the restnin on his own or because he didn't care. "You look tense."

"Oh, yeah. Just the compliment every woman wants to hear." you joked, leaning back into your chair and giving Peña a sly smile that he returned.

"Well I tried to call you beautiful once and you yelled at me."

You snorted that time, remembering the memory clearly. Peña had called you hermosa once and you had told him to fuck off, thinking he was trying to just get under your skin. "Yeah. I did."

"If it helps, you look-"

"Don't." you said abruptly. You couldn't handle that. Peña was smooth with everyone but you didn't need him doing it with you. You were already twisted up enough.

"I was going to say you look exhausted as well." Peña cheekily said, one end of his lips quirking up into a small grin.

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks."

You looked back down at your desk, grabbing a piece of paper and lamely looking at it. You didn't look up when you heard Javier rise from his seat and his steps echo into the empty room. You assumed he was leaving, having given up on getting any more work done. That was until you felt two hands rest on your shoulders.

You sat straight up, your body becoming stiff as your felt the hands spread over your shoulders. They were so warm, even through your shirt. You let out a soft sigh when you felt his fingers dig into your shoulders, applying a perfect amount of pressure that felt heavenly.

"This okay?" he softly asked.

You nodded your head. "Yeah, Javi."

He continued pressing into your muscles, each one seeming to relax almost instantaneously with his touch. You hadn't even realized how stiff and sore you had been. How much your body was craving something like this.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you leaned into his touch, letting out a groan when he dug deep into a really wound up spot. "Your muscles feel like shit." he said as his hands drifted lower to your upper back.

"You are full of compliments tonight." you softly said.

"Sorry, bebita." You let out a small hum at the nick name, letting a small smile tilt your lips. Javi was close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to smell cigarettes and the aftershave that had seemed to be stuck to your hands for days now.

Javier seemed to pick up on the small noise before you had, ripping his hands away from you right as the door to the room opened. You sat up straight, grabbing at a piece of paper lamely as Javier shuffled behind you.

'God damn, Murphy.' you thought as the taller agent looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow.

"I just forgot something." he quietly said, walking to his desk where he grabbed his wallet. He looked back at you two, raising an eyebrow at the way Peña awkwardly started to walk towards his own desk. "Did I interrupt something?"

You sighed, standing up from your desk and grabbing your jacket. "Nope. I was just about to head out for the night."

"Me too." Peña said, grabbing his own jacket and giving you and Murphy a single nod before marching out of the room.

Steve looked back at you, a single eyebrow raised. "Okay. What happened?"

"Nothing. I was just showing him a paper." you muttered, grabbing a file to bring home, already knowing you wouldn't be sleeping at all with the way your mind was whirring.

"What paper?" Murphy critically asked, following after you as you ushered out of the room.

"DEA stuff." you mumbled, hating how you felt like you were being integrated by one of your own partners.

"That's not vague at all." he teased, a small smile popping up on his face as he saw how you were getting more and more flustered.

"Fuck off, Murphy." you huffed, marching out of the office and leaving him behind.

________

The knock on your door this time was much harsher and louder, still enough for you to know who it was but also enough to know Peña was in no good mood tonight. You had come to look forward to the nightly visits but today had been a field day for you that had gone very awry. You were tired and you felt like you were burnt to pieces, crumbling to ash before everybody’s eyes but nobody could put you back together because the damage had already been done.

You waited a few moments but when the knocking presumed at a much faster rate, you knew there was no hope he would walk away and let you spend this night alone to wallow in the events of the day. You opened the door, this time standing at the entrance where an incredibly disheveled Peña stood across from you. For once, he didn’t look tired like he usually did at night. If anything, he looked like a fire had been lit under him that was consuming him whole, swallowing him until he was the orange burst of flames itself. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top like usual but wrinkled. His hair was all over the place. You couldn’t help the way your heart slightly dropped. He looked like a man who got laid.

You slowly walked away from the door, hearing as Peña walked in and slammed it shut behind him. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Peña. Go fuck another one of your girls or something.”

“What the fuck?” he growled.

The aggressive and frantic tone alarmed you, causing you to turn and face him as he stared at you. Upon better inspection, he didn’t look like a man who got laid. But a man who was pissed.

“What the hell is your problem?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared him back down, not daring to back away from the challenging gleam in his eyes.

“You nearly got shot today!”

Oh, yeah. It’s not like you had forgotten. It had been the main event of the day, the bullet that was meant for your head just barely grazing you instead. Murphy had been there and said something about it being dumb luck. You had tried to say something about how you didn’t believe in luck and it was just your quick nature, but you had barely been able to get the words out with the way your mind was doing somersaults and the way your whole body seemed to shake with an electrifying cocktail of adrenaline and fear. You had been on the brink of coming to a rather unfortunate death and yeah, you were glad you hadn’t died. But you weren’t glad that the mission had led to little of anything. It had been a fruitless effort and that was the worst part.

“Well, I didn’t so whoopie doo.” you sarcastically answered, throwing your hands up rather undramatically as you tried to make your way to the kitchen to fetch the whiskey as normal. But Peña was faster, marching towards you and grabbing an arm to pull you back.

“You could of died.” Peña hissed, locking eyes with you. The fierceness held in his eyes was almost intimidating, so stark and powerful that it seemed to blow the wind out of your lungs almost as much as your graze with death had earlier in the day.

“Okay. But I’m still alive so I did something right.”

“What were you doing on the field today?”

“Umm... doing my job.” you said, your face scrunching in confusion as you looked up at the man before you. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his hairline beaded with droplets of sweat.

“Why didn’t I know? I should of been there.” Peña demanded, his hand still holding your wrist. The touch was hot and poignant. You didn’t know how but the way his calloused hand grabbed onto your wrist seemed to hold such a vast array of emotions you couldn’t even begin to place them.

“I didn’t realize I had to come to you with everything.” you sarcastically quipped back, trying to pull your hand away with no effort. His grip still remained strong as his eyes wandered all over your face. “Peña, what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that you are running around, nearly getting killed.” Javier barked back.

“That’s kind of part of the job!” you yelled back, feeling a frustration grow inside you that felt unfair. You wanted to relax or sleep or get drunk or who knows what. Not have a yelling match with Javier Peña in your shitty apartment.

“You don’t even try to be careful!”

“Well, there are parts of the job that nobody likes but oh well! I don’t like that you nearly get killed or fuck who knows how many women but fuck it, it’s who we are and what we do!” You fired back, feeling your mouth clamp up when you realized the words that were spilling from it freely. The emotions of the day and the heat of the argument was too much and you felt flooded in every which direction. You couldn’t control the onslaught of confessions that tore from your lips and you hadn’t even expected.

Javier hadn’t seemed to either, pulling his hand away from your wrist. He stared back at you, chest still rising dramatically, but his face seemed less enraged and more questioning, curious, and thoughtful. You felt your face warm even more than it had been from the fight, stepping back slowly and nearly stumbling in the process. You were the first to look away, staring down at your hands which were shaking slightly.

“Sit down.”

You looked up at Javier, letting out an awkward chuckle at the bizarreness of his demand. “What?”

“Sit down.” he repeated once again, leaving no room for additional questions and his unwavering stare seemed to demand you to do so. You let out a small sigh and wandered over to your couch. Once your bottom landed on it, you let your body cave forwards, your elbows rested on your knees and hands cradling your face. You didn’t look up even as you heard Peña walking around your apartment, opening cabinets and grabbing glasses. You just kept your face buried within yourself, trying to shield yourself from things you couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps the events of the day or maybe feelings that always seemed to grow within you each time you saw Javier Peña. You couldn’t tell but you had felt like your brain was working at half-capacity, if even that, and you didn’t want to waste it on dwelling over what was plaguing your mind in that moment.

You heard Javier step towards you and you finally brought your hands away from your face, coming up to meet his outstretched hand holding out a cup full of whiskey. He had abandoned his tie he had been wearing when he first entered, his shirt slightly unbuttoned like it always seemed to be. You grabbed the glass from his hand, ignoring the slight tingle that rushed through your fingers at the minimal contact, and took a small sip of the liquid.

“That good?”

You looked up at Javier again, who was still standing in front of you. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Thanks, Peña.”

His gaze softened as his eyes drifted over your face. “Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

You nodded again. “Thanks, Javi.”

He seemed to visibly relax at the use of the nickname for him. It wasn’t like he had never been called it before. Some people at work had called him that. Family members back in Texas definitely had. Even his former late night companions had yelled out the name in throes of passion. But it sounded sweetest slipping off your tongue, like warm honey. It was something he had come to crave in the last few days like he craved his cigarettes. You had only said it for the first time a few days ago but it had become addicting, sending this sense of calmness through Javier that nothing else seemed to - not even his typical vices he used in abundance.

“Sit on the floor, bebita.” you didn’t bother this time to send him a curious glance, instead just slipping off the couch and plopping your bottom down on the carpeted floor. You felt the couch shuffle behind you as he carefully sat down, one leg swinging over so one leg was framing each side of your body. You leaned back softly, your head meeting his upper body and you let out a soft hum, bringing the glass to your lips to take another sip. Your eyes fluttered closed when you felt calloused fingers meet your neck, rubbing it up and down in a way that was slightly ticklish, but not in a bothersome way. They were warm and rough but also soft. They knew what to do to put you at ease, something you can’t remember ever finding in a person. Touch had never been your love language, instead oftentimes making you uncomfortable. But Javiers touch had always done something to you that you couldn’t explain. Maybe a thrill, maybe a need. You didn’t know but did it really matter when no matter what it always felt so good?

“You mind if I take this out?” Peña whispered, his hands trialing up to the hair tie that held your hair back into what was now a rather messy ponytail. You didn’t speak, only slowly nodding your head. He gently began to pull the tie down, letting your hair slip out from its confines and cascade down. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair, occasionally getting stuck in tangled that he gently worked through for what seemed to be hours. You let him do so, the gentle touches and silence making a warm peace fill you. Eventually his finger tips moved upwards, reaching your scalp and lightly moving slow patterns through it. “You are so beautiful, bebita.”

You were so relaxed that you didn’t allow anxiety or confusion to run through you from him compliment. You just let out a small hum, opening your eyes and tilting your head far back to make eye contact with Javier. He looked straight down at you, brown eyes full of so much warmth and admiration that it seemed to take your breath away. You didn’t want to but you managed to somehow pull your eyes away, looking back down so he could continue massaging your scalp. “I need you to be more careful.”

“If it helps, it freaked me out too.” you gently offered, trying not to read too much into his request.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” I will be if you stay.

“I just want you to be okay.”

The softness with which the words were spoken were so new, so vulnerable. It was a new side to Javier. He had always seemed to keep an eye out for you but you assumed it to be because you were partners and that’s what you should do. But this wasn’t just two partners watching each other’s backs. This was personal and raw and meaningful. So much so that you couldn’t try to deny it or brush it off as some meaningless, odd occurrence. At least you prayed to God you couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” you asked, slowly bringing a hand up to rest at one of his knees. It was an awkward angle but you just wanted to hold him in some way. Part of you yearned to bring your fingers to your head and intertwine them with his but you didn’t want to step over a boundary and ruin the haven that seemed to encompass you both.

“I’m okay when I’m with you.” Javier confessed. “If anything happened to you...”

His voice drifted off but you didn’t need him to fill in the blanks. You had voiced those same concerns to yourself in the middle of the night and before missions. What if? It was such a terrifying, earth shattering question. More than it should be for two people who were just ‘partners’.

“I’m here, Javi. And you are here. We are okay.” you soothed, your hand rubbing his knee slowly. You slowly turned your head, causing his fingers to slip away from it as you adjusted your body to face him. You looked up at him. “Can I do something?”

“Anything.”

You slowly rose from your spot on the ground, pulling yourself up slowly as you slipped one leg on each side of Javier. You slowly lowered yourself, not breaking eye contact as you sat onto his lap slowly, moving at a snails pace. His hands seemed to instinctually reach out, wrapping around your back to shimmy you closer to him. You lowered yourself into him, sinking into his warm embrace and allowing your face to cradle into the nook of his neck. One of his hands moved back up to your hair, running down it. You took a deep breath, taking in the scent of him: the aftershave and the cigarettes and the smell that was so inherently Javier. You reached your hands up to wrap around his neck, pulling him into you like your life depended on it. “Javi?”

“Yes, hermosa?”

“What is happening?” you mumbled into his neck, your warm breath fanning into his skin.

“What do you mean?” He knew what you meant but he needed you to say it. He couldn’t because this was one of the few things in life he was genuinely scared of.

“This isn’t just massages, is it? This is...more.” You didn’t mean to sound so needy or pleading, like your well-being depended on the answer. You weren’t that type of woman normally. But you needed him to say something now, something that wouldn’t break your heart into two.

“It’s not just massages.” Javi said, stilling his moments. You slowly pulled back, now facing him. You brought your hands down to his shoulders, rubbing them softly with a nervous smile on your face.

“What is it then?”

Javi took several moments to respond, simply staring back into your timid eyes. You were nervous but you found shelter in the way his breathing seemed to pick up and his eyes had a nerve-wracking glimmer in them.

“I’m not good at this.” He confessed.

"Me either." A small smile finally broke out as you said the words, causing Peña to give you a small, lopsided grin. He brought a hand to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Javi finally let a long sigh pull from his lips, his gaze not wavering as he spoke. "I just know that I want you."

"I want you, too." you barely whispered out.

"I don't know how to do this." he whispered, shrugging slightly.

You leaned into him, giving him a hug as you furrowed yourself into the shape of his body, allowing yourself to meld into one. You had once thought that if a moment like this ever happened, your heart would race and you would panic. But in the moment, everything, for once in your life, seemed to fall in place. "Me either. But I wanna do it with you."

You felt Javier nod against you, relaxing further as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in even deeper. "Me too, bebita."

You had never felt this feeling before but somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew everything would be okay.

#narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña one shot #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena one shot #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier peña x you #Javier Peña #pedro pascal x reader

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djarinbarnes · 3 years

Text

me olvidarás - one

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings for the chapter: vivid sex dream, masturbation... faceless javi. I apologize. I just want to get to the good stuff! :D

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: first of all, I'd like to thank @demoneyesanddamagedsouls for being there for me through the whole writing process of this story so far. With her on the side, constantly hyping me up and giving me feedback, I've written over 5 chapters of this already. The full chapter count for this story hasn't been decided yet. I'll see where it goes <3 Second of all.... enjoy <3

series masterlist

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You hated being back. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his eyes peering into yours from above. The mustache resting on his upper lip tickling your inner thighs, your neck, your forehead as he trailed kisses down your nose. You wished for the gods to take you back to Colombia. Back to him.

You remembered everything vividly - his hands on your body, the way they held you and the way they warmed your skin as they made their way over your body. There was no point in hiding it. You were completely and utterly in love with him.

It’d been no more than a week since you’d left Bogotá. Since you’d left him. You knew he was busy with his job, but the little he’d called you was somewhat unsettling. You waited for something - anything to happen to let you know he still thought of you - that you weren’t just a summer fling to him.

It came on a random Tuesday evening, and the way it showed itself… Well you could’ve avoided that. You’d just gotten home from one of your daily walks, where you found the proper time and space to think over the things that had happened, when you found your mother in the kitchen, postcard in hand.

The look on your mother’s face let you know exactly what was written on the postcard. “So that was what you were doing all summer, huh?” you felt the redness blooming in your cheeks as she waved it around. “Or should I say this,” she pointed to the scribbles. “Was who you were doing?”

Your eyes widened. Under normal circumstances your mother would’ve never addressed you like that. But you could see she was furious. She had been on your toes every day during your stay in Bogotá about the mystery guy who had drawn you away from them. “Who is he, then?”

You swallowed past the thick lump in your throat as you came to the conclusion, she had no business going through your stuff or reading your mail. “Mom!” You easily snatched the postcard from her hand, much to her dismay. “You can’t just…” you sigh before hiding the postcard behind your back. “He was… just a guy.”

The truth couldn’t be further from the words that had just left your lips. He wasn’t just a guy. No, he wasn’t a guy, he was a man. A man that had shown every crevice of your body pleasure like no one had ever done before. You felt your body react to just the thought about him, and it made you shudder.

You knew your mother would never believe any of the words you were currently trying to defend yourself with. You gave up with a sign and turned on your heel, walking through the house you called home and into the bedroom.

With the slam of your door, you finally looked properly at the postcard in your hand. You recognized the city of Bogotá easily.

Turning the card over in your hand you suck your lip in between your teeth, recollecting every feeling that flowed through your body with his lips against yours, his skin against yours, your bodies moving together as one.

You knew who had sent the card, even though there wasn’t any sender on it. The scribbled Spanish let you know, and boldly enough.

Parece que el destino nos ha juntado aposta. Yo sueño que estás cerca, tan cerca, aquí en mi camita durmiendo contigo, porque estoy pensando en ti otra vez

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

a month earlier

Summer break. God, how you dreaded summer break. Your parents had finally decided to leave the state for vacation, and you were excited to go somewhere you hadn’t been before.

When they had told you about the vacation, you had been overjoyed. Finally, your parents had decided to be a little lively, to go somewhere that wasn’t just safe and sound.

You felt excited when they told you the duration of the vacation as well, and you just couldn’t wait to get going.

Three weeks in Bogotá. It was like a dream come true. You knew some things about Colombia, and the whole corruption of the police and the drug trading from college. It had caught your interest then, and it still intrigued you to get to know more about the city. And since you possibly got to explore some of the city yourself, you were even happier.

You started packing right after your parents told you, to make sure you had everything you needed when you had to travel. They had let you know that the hotel had a pool, so one of the first things in your bag was, of course, your favorite bikini.

You were definitely going to suck up some rays to fill your cells with the D-vitamin. You knew the air was going to be stuffy, humid and warm, but that didn’t make any difference for you at all. You would say you had prepared yourself from home, but there were just some things you never could prepare for.

You were slowly counting down the days until your departure, and you felt more and more excited as the days passed. At the same time, you were nervous. Nervous about the people in general, nervous about meeting new people.

The whole people thing wasn’t really you, and you silently prayed that your parents wouldn’t force you into meeting people you didn’t want to, like they usually did when you were out and about.

Come and meet our friends, they have a son about your age. Maybe you could grow to like each other.

Sure thing.

What your parents didn’t know was, that boys your age didn’t turn you on in the slightest. Quite the contrary, though. There was no legitimate reason for you to be into older men, since you had barely even spoken to men. But from what you had seen in telenovelas to practice your Spanish, the men over 30 definitely spoke to you in another way than younger guys did.

There was something flawlessly sensual about men with stubbles and slight wrinkles encapsulating their eyes, and right now Rafael Novoa was occupying your mind a little bit more than necessary. The whole idea of meeting an older man, an experienced man made your toes and fingers tingle.

You often dreamed about a faceless older man, coming to rescue you for whatever reason your subconsciousness decided to make up, and you loved and cherished those dreams so much. It was wild - your body being able to make you soaking wet, bringing you on the edge of orgasms by just imagining a man in between your legs, often causing you to wake up, startled by an orgasm.

It was an all new feeling, and it kind of scared you. You didn’t really know why you suddenly imagined such raunchy and vivid sexual encounters with men you never saw the face of - but you weren’t one to complain. You secretly hoped - prayed - that your dreams would come every night.

On the very last night before you were due to leave for Colombia with your parents, you had yet another dream. One that left you wanting more, one that left nothing to the imagination. You didn’t remember how it started, but you did know exactly how it ended. And god, if you weren’t seeking that out if you got the chance.

Fingers tangled with someone elses fingers, pressed into the grass above your head - you’re moaning wantonly as the unfamiliar face hidden in the dark leaves lingering, deep kisses against your neck, their hips pressing forcefully into yours, a thick cock deeply imbedded into your core.

Your leg is drawn around their hips, urging them closer and closer, impossibly closer as you breathe out into the night, the soft squelching sound from between you filling your ears along with deep groans, letting you know just the effect you had on the person above you.

Their hips grind into yours, their pelvis grinding forcefully right into your clit, drawing sweet, sweet pleasure into your abdomen, an unfamiliar coil tightening in your belly. You whimper out as the faceless person brings their mouth on top of yours, pushing their tongue into the warmth of your mouth, searching out yours in the darkness.

Then everything turns white - and you wake up in cold sweat, your pussy forcefully convulsing around nothing as you sit up in your bed, brought back to reality, even though you weren’t ready to leave your fantasy just yet. You wanted to see the person your mind had made up, wanted to see who brought you so much pleasure you could come from just imagining it.

You tried closing your eyes, desperate to see something - anything - yet the face never showed itself. Your sheets felt clammy as they stuck to your sweaty thighs and you quickly threw them off yourself before you fan your hands in front of your face, let down by what just happened. God, you wanted to feel that again.

You dart out of bed and into your bathroom, taking in the blush creeping up your neck before you quickly discard your pyjamas, taking a hurried shower to wash the sweat off your body. You don’t want to spend much time in the bathroom that morning, simply wanting to get out into the fresh air outside.

Yet your fingers find their way between your legs as you close your eyes, imagining the same thing you had dreamt just minutes before, as you dip your finger into your wet pussy, your other hand bracing yourself against the wall. You can feel the slick that had come from your dream, and you bite your lip as another finger joins the first easily, and before you know it, yet another.

You had no idea you were able to fit three of your fingers inside of you, yet here you were, and you found yourself quickly approaching the edge where you were sure you were going to fall off. Your thumb circled your clit rapidly, causing your legs to shake as you came on your fingers, your lip tugged in between your teeth to stifle the noise. You quickly cleaned yourself and your fingers before finishing your shower, eager to get going.

The whole drive to the airport, the waiting and the stuffiness of the plane had caused your head to throb, and you silently counted down the hours until you were free of other people. The hours felt excruciatingly slow as you braced yourself on the armrests of the plane, trying to get in an hour of sleep to ease your head.

Nothing worked though. The sound of screaming from a small child had your ears ringing, and even though you felt bad for both the kid and the parents, you had no surplus energy to allow yourself to feel bad. You just felt annoyed. And your ears had popped upon ascend - that didn’t make anything better.

When the plane finally touched down on Colombian ground, you silently cheered while others clapped. Who the fuck claps on a plane? You rolled your eyes as you found your bag in the overhead storage, desperate to get out of the plane quickly. You sighed as you remembered you had to wait for your luggage inside the airport as well.

The whole waiting for your luggage thing went quickly, and within an hour you were unlocking the door to the rented apartment your parents had taken care of. It was small but charming - a tiny kitchenette, a small living room and another room where you suspected the bedroom to be. The bathroom was also tiny, but you didn’t mind. It was a beautiful place.

You pulled your luggage into your bedroom, digging through the suitcases for your sunscreen and a cardigan, pulling it on quickly before leaving your parents to settle in as you ventured out into the bustling streets of Colombia. You don’t know how much time you spent wandering around, but you found something to eat along the way before you made your way back to your apartment as it started to get dark out.

You quickly grew bored in your own company, so when you remembered a bar you had passed on your way home, you quickly went over the options you had before you decided to prep your face in the bathroom, switching your ordinary bra out with a bralette and throwing a silver, sequined top on along with a black skirt. You paired it with some flats - it was Colombia after all, and you weren’t that good at running in heels if it came to it.

You pushed a few things into your handbag before you snuck out of the dark apartment, noticing the darkness of your parent’s on the opposite side of the small garden that separated the two. The door locked easily, and you quickly ventured out into the night, desperately hoping for some adventure to find you.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

#me olvidaras #javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

‘Nilla Bean (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!Reader)

Summary: A cowboy in your coffee shop is not the way you’d expected your morning to go, but you’re not complaining; especially not when he’s as attractive as he is.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: talk of food/eating, brief allusions to alcohol, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, I think there’s like a single use of fuck

A/N: okay I’ve been thinking about this FOREVER but I finally went ahead and wrote it!!! hope u guys like it, I’m a sucker for a coffee shop AU as a barista myself :) thx @theteddylupinexperience for helping me name it and motivating me to write it lol

When you started your shift this morning, you’d groaned as you tied the apron around your waist, expecting an uneventful day. Most were. If you were lucky enough to see someone you knew or to have an especially nice customer, you’d consider it a good day. You didn’t know when you walked in that it would be the good day to end all good days: nothing could top this one.

Weekday mornings in the fall aren’t particularly busy. The majority of your customers come around the morning rush, and the remaining ones are usually retirees or house-spouses and their young children. It’s enjoyable, days like these, that don’t require you to dash about the shop.

The only problem, really, is having nothing to do. You clean the coffee grinder, wipe down tables, wipe down everything else, then do it all again. Restocking, usually an endless chore, isn’t even an option; no one’s using anything in the first place. You and your coworkers chat, deep-cleaning the coolers, washing the blender stations, and doing the dirty work. When a customer comes, you’re the lucky one who gets to go take their order and put your task on hold first.

It seems like you’ve done every task twice, even when your manager introduces yet another idea for you to deal with. To bide your time, you prep coffee for later, rearrange the case of pretty little pastries that sits next to your register, and doodle on your station with a paint pen, humming to the soft music playing in the shop.

People come and go, some picking up mobile orders and some ordering from you, some choosing to eat inside and some taking their food to go. You sip your drink happily between customers- a white mocha with caramel.

At one point, you’re in the back and washing dishes when a coworker peeks his head into the back. “Hey, you got someone up front!” He informs you, and you nod and wander out through the swinging doors.

Well. That’s certainly a sight for a Tuesday morning.

The man standing at the register is wearing a painfully well-tailored suit jacket, with gray tweed and patches on the elbows. Beneath it is a white top and a black tie, and the man wears jeans on the bottom half. Interesting.

Perhaps more interesting is the large cowboy hat perched atop his head. The man’s face, below the brim of his Stetson, is incredibly handsome. He has an aquiline nose, a neatly trimmed mustache that wouldn’t work on anyone else, and warm brown eyes that make you smile softly.

“Hi,” you comment as you log into the register. “Are you a part of our rewards program?” You ask as part of your regular spiel.

The man furrows his brow then shakes his head. “Uh, no. No I’m not. Can you sign me up now?” He asks, and his voice makes your chest flutter with the tone. It’s rich and smooth, with a beautiful southern twang.

Looking at your register and back at him, you shake your head. “It’s just an app on your smartphone, really easy,” you tell him.

“Ah, damn,” he groans and pulls it from his pocket. “I’m shit with technology. Why don’t you just… type it in here?” He says, handing you his phone with a notes page open. His thick fingers accidentally lock the phone as he hands it to you.

You tap the screen to wake it and find the background to be a picture of a cute little pig all covered in mud. “Uh, you locked it,” you chuckle. “What’s the password?”

The man looks down shyly. “1-2-3-4. Don’t make fun’a me, I’m like a grandpa with these newfangled phones.”

It’s endearing, you have to admit, and it makes you giggle. “Not a problem. I’m not here to chide you on your security choices,” you shrug. You type in the code and find the app, starting the download for him before handing back his phone. “Can I get a name to start your order?” You ask as you look up at him.

His eyes hold a warmth there, radiating off of his smile. “Whiskey.”

“Your mother named you Whiskey?” You tease as you type in the name, returning back to the main page of beverages. “Some kind of legal name.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just what I go by at work.”

Whiskey likes conversation, you notice, and it makes you chuckle a little. “You got a real name then?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow beneath your visor.

The man tips his hat. “Jack Daniels, at your service.” He says and offers you a hand, which you take and shake.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me your nickname is Whiskey and your real name is a type of whiskey?”

The man shrugs. “My momma had a real funny sense of humor, I guess. My daddy loved the booze so they went with it. I work for Statesman, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

“Ah, the distillery,” you nod with a smile, not grasping the depth of what Statesman actually does. How could you? “Well then, Jack,” you say with an honest grin on your face. “What can I get you to drink?”

Whiskey, Jack, whatever his name is, looks up at the menu, scanning the different beverages. “Well. That sure is a lot of choices. I’m new to the area, so I don’t know the menu yet, and I don’t know the first thing about coffee other than how to make it in a machine,” he admits to you. “What would you recommend, sugar?”

Sugar. Your heart beats a million times faster at the man’s words. You’ve had lots of weird and creepy men call you different things, but you’ve never been flustered and enjoyed it. This man is getting to you, quickly. “Well, how strong do you take your coffee?”

He thinks about that for a second, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket. “Pretty strong. A little sweet, with cream. I usually take it Irish style,” he admits with a chuckle, tapping a belt buckle that you realize is a tiny flask. Jesus. That’s not cheesy.

“Well, we don’t serve alcohol,” you laugh and look down at your screen. “We have all kinds of flavors.” You list them all off, off the top of your head, now staring at the ceiling to recite them all. “And our seasonal drink is pumpkin spice.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Wonderful and all, but what do you like? You seem like you’ve got a good taste, darlin’, tell me what you’d recommend.”

God, these names are going right to where they shouldn’t, especially not when this handsome man is leaning on your counter and flirting with you as he orders his coffee. “I like vanilla.” You shrug.

The man laughs and stands. “I hate to say it, sugar, but I’m not a very vanilla man,” he says, his head tilting down and his dark, sultry eyes peeking out at you from just below the brim. His voice is seductive, implying something else other than the flavor.

Oh fuck. “Oh, not like that,” you laugh as your face floods with warm blood, anxiety coursing through your veins. “Not vanilla in that way.” Fuck, that’s even worse, you think and grip the counter so as to not physically cringe at your words.

“Not like that, huh?” His words are still so seductive and flirtatious it makes you want to combust. Maybe you will, if he keeps this going.

“N-no,” you stammer, looking down at the menu screen again. “I mean, I just think it’s underrated. People dismiss it as boring, but it’s really just as interesting of a flavor as anything else. It tastes really good with our espresso.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face. His lip pokes out just slightly to wet his lips and you shiver involuntarily, your skin pricking up all across your body. God, you hope he can’t see it. “I’ll trust you on it, ‘nilla bean,” the man drawls and stands up straight again. “Triple espresso with vanilla and cream.”

You nod and ring that in. God, if he keeps going with the nicknames, you’re going to melt into a puddle here and now.

“What are these?” He asks as his fingers trace over the drawings on the counter, lifting them and finding the pink and green powder of the dried paint has transferred to his fingertips.

God, he makes you nervous, but in a good way. In the best way possible, a way that makes you want to knock that cowboy hat off his head and find out if his lips are as soft as they look. “I draw when I’m bored. It’s been a slow day,” you chuckle as your own fingers trace the crawling vines and flowers you’d painted there. “Sorry about the transfer,” you chuckle and your fingertips brush his, making you involuntarily shudder again at the contact. His fingertips are calloused and radiate warmth. “Uh, can I get you anything to eat?” You ask and gesture at the bakery case.

The man inspects it for a moment, looking at the various foods lined up under the soft white light. “I’ll take one’a these,” he says and pokes a finger towards the chocolate chip cookies through the glass. You nod and take one out for him, putting it in a little paper sleeve and handing it over. “How much is this gonna hurt my wallet?” He asks, pulling it out from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Give me one second.” You type in your code for your employee discount, which takes a moment.

“What’re you typin’ there, ‘nilla bean?” He asks, brow furrowing.

Looking up at him, you push your visor up your face and smile a little. “Oh, I’m giving you my employee discount. It’s ridiculously priced here.”

Jack frowns. “You don’t have to do that for me, sugar. I’m just a regular ol’ customer.”

It’s your chance, you realize, to say something or stay silent forever. “Well, I like you,” you admit and take the credit card he hands you, swiping it through the machine. “And I’m hoping you’ll at least become a regular. I’d like to see you more,” you tell him with a grin.

The man’s face lights up, even beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d like that too,” he nods and pockets his card when you hand it back.

A beat of silence passes as the two of you smile at each other, both of you lovestruck immediately. “Uh, your drink will be right up over there,” you say and nod to the other end of the café. “Are you going to drink that here or take it to go?” You ask.

“Oh, here,” he nods.

“Perfect,” you say with a small smile. “Then I’ll just bring it to you when it’s ready. Nothing better to do today,” you shrug and wander down to the other end before Jack, Whiskey, whatever can refute you.

You take the cup from your coworker, humming to yourself as you put some vanilla and cream in the cup, pulling the espresso shots. When it’s ready, it barely reaches the halfway mark of the small cup, so you top it with a little whipped cream. You suspect the man has more of a sweet tooth than he lets on.

Pocketing a pink paint marker, you put a lid on the drink and walk out to the dining room, setting the coffee down across from him. He’s munching on the cookie he’d ordered, looking up at you with unintentional puppy dog eyes. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you smile and pull out the chair across from him, sitting down and pulling out the paint pen. “I put a little extra whipped cream on top. I thought it would go well with the espresso, make it a little creamier or something.”

As you uncap the paint pen, Jack’s brow furrows as he watches you. “Whatcha doing there?” He asks as you bring his cup closer to yourself and write something on the top.

“Being brave,” you chuckle and cap the pen, sliding it back. “I gotta head back. Enjoy it,” you say as you stand and pat him on the shoulder.

Only as you walk back to the register does Whiskey comprehend exactly what you put on the top of his cup. It’s your phone number, in that chalky pink paint, and a smiley face beneath it.

Jack may not be great with technology, like he told you, but he immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo. Then he enters the number into a contact, filling out the name: ‘Nilla Bean.

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

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GRRM has projected his love for medieval tourneys, heraldry, pageantry, knights and chivalry on Sansa Stark

Art credit: Heinrich von Breslau (Codex Manesse, 14. Jahrhundert)

GRRM:

“That whole story (The Hedge Knight) is built around a tournament. I love medieval tournaments, reading about them, writing about them. There's of course some of them in the main books, but this was an opportunity in a time of peace, not war, to look at a medieval tournament with all its pageantry and the jousting and the combat and reveal a little of Westerosi History”.

—In conversation: George R.R. Martin with Dan Jones FULL EVENT- August 2019

SANSA:

"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

Arya could see that her father was not very happy about that. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A tourney," she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?"

"You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly."

"Oh, please," Sansa said. "I want to see."

Septa Mordane spoke up. "Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend."

Father looked pained. "I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa." He saw Arya. "For both of you."

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.

Sansa lifted her head. "It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted."

—A Game of Thrones - Arya II

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa’s breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind…and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

“It is better than the songs,” she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

GRRM:

“Tolkien imitators who came after him, a lot of them created a sort of Disneyland Middle Ages, you know, a sort of Middle Ages like you might see at a Renaissance Faire, but you don't have the dysentery, or the torture, or the leprosy, or the innate sexism, or classism, or racism that was so built into so much of that world for so many centuries, you really have to take, you know, I like the knights in shinning armor, the heraldry and pageantry as much as anyone, but you also have to include the fleas."

— Neuchâtel International Fantastic Film Festival - NIFFF 2014

The novelist is midway through something of a European tour. After his trip to Switzerland, he is due in Scotland for the Edinburgh book festival. It has often been suggested that Ivanhoe (by the Scottish 19th-century novelist Walter Scott) was, alongside the War of the Roses, a major influence on A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones.

Martin was first turned on to Ivanhoe by the 1952 MGM movie starring Robert Taylor, George Sanders and a young Elizabeth Taylor. "I think it was Elizabeth Taylor at the peak of her...," his voice tails off before he clarifies. "She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I think I was nine years old when I saw that movie. How could you not fall in love with her? But the jousting and the pageantry of it made me love that story. Later, in high school, I did read that book. For a modern reader, it's a little tough to get through. The prose is very Victorian and thick but if you fight your way through it, the story is there. It has everything the movie has and more – the heraldry and jousting and the insight into the times. It was an influence in that sense."

—GRRM - Independent - 2014

SANSA:

The green knight laughed again. "Barristan the Old, you mean. Don't flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already." He smiled at her. "Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name to me as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand's daughter."

Joffrey stiffened beside her. "Have a care how you address my betrothed."

"I can answer," Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince's anger. She smiled at the green knight. "Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and councillor to the king, and so I name you."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

No one ransomed the northmen, though. One fat lordling haunted the kitchens, Hot Pie told her, always looking for a morsel. His mustache was so bushy that it covered his mouth, and the clasp that held his cloak was a silver-and-sapphire trident. He belonged to Lord Tywin, but the fierce, bearded young man who liked to walk the battlements alone in a black cloak patterned with white suns had been taken by some hedge knight who meant to get rich off him. Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

—A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Petyr had given her a roll of arms to study, so she knew their heraldry if not their faces. The red castle was Redfort, plainly; a short man with a neat grey beard and mild eyes. Lady Anya was the only woman amongst the Lords Declarant, and wore a deep green mantle with the broken wheel of Waynwood picked out in beads of jet. Six silver bells on purple, that was Belmore, pear-bellied and round of shoulder. His beard was a ginger-grey horror sprouting from a multiplicity of chins. Symond Templeton's, by contrast, was black and sharply pointed. A beak of a nose and icy blue eyes made the Knight of Ninestars look like some elegant bird of prey. His doublet displayed nine black stars within a golden saltire. Young Lord Hunter's ermine cloak confused her till she spied the brooch that pinned it, five silver arrows fanned. Alayne would have put his age closer to fifty than to forty. His father had ruled at Longbow Hall for nigh on sixty years, only to die so abruptly that some whispered the new lord had hastened his inheritance. Hunter's cheeks and nose were red as apples, which bespoke a certain fondness for the grape. She made certain to fill his cup as often as he emptied it.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

Harry was staring at her. He knows who I am, she realized, and he does not seem pleased to see me. It was only then that she took note of his heraldry. Though his surcoat and horse trappings were patterned in the red-and-white diamonds of House Hardyng, his shield was quartered. The arms of Hardyng and Waynwood were displayed in the first and third quarters, respectively, but in the second and fourth quarters he bore the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn, sky blue and cream. Sweetrobin will not like that.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Firstly, thanks for that very thorough response on the tournaments and knighthood. Fascinating. In particular given the notes about _Ivanhoe_ and its influence -- I've only witnessed the A&E production of it, although maybe about time I read it. Seems it might be ripe for ideas.

IVANHOE is well worth a read, although the style is very old fashioned, of course. Still it has some fabulous characters and scenes, and so far as I know the definitive portrayal of a medieval tournament, both melee and joust.

It has been filmed three times that I know of. The recent A&E production had some good moments, as did the older Sam Neill version... the CLASSIC version, however, is still MGM's 50s version, starring Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor, and George Sanders. The jousts are wonderful, Liz is radiant, and George Sanders steals the film as Bois-Gilbert. You should definitely rent that one and have a look.

—GRRM - 1999

SANSA:

She loved King's Landing; the pageantry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She closed the window, gathered up the fallen papers, and stacked them on the table. One was a list of the competitors. Four-and-sixty knights had been invited to vie for places amongst Lord Robert Arryn's new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, and four and-sixty knights had come to tilt for the right to wear falcon's wings upon their warhelms and guard their lord.

The competitors came from all over the Vale, from the mountain valleys and the coast, from Gulltown and the Bloody Gate, even the Three Sisters. Though a few were promised, only three were wed; the eight victors would be expected to spend the next three years at Lord Robert's side, as his own personal guard (Alayne had suggested seven, like the Kingsguard, but Sweetrobin had insisted that he must have more knights than King Tommen), so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

And they came, Alayne thought proudly. They all came.

It had fallen out just as Petyr said it would, the day the ravens flew. "They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are."

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Amon Shin in Maine asks, “If you lived in Westeros, which house would you like to be part of, or in which area would you like to live?”

Well, you know, there’s something to be said for being an honorable Stark, but you’re kinda cold all the time and poor and so forth. And you have a lot of land, but there’s not a lot of stuff on it, you know? On the other hand, if you’re a Lannister, you have a nice house and all the gold you want and all of that stuff. So, there’s a lot to be said for being a Lannister. I don’t know. Maybe I could probably see me being a Lannister. And I would always pay my debts.

—A Dance with Dragons | George R.R. Martin | Talks at Google - July 2011

SANSA:

They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

* * *

Art credit: Loras Tyrell gives Sansa Stark a rose at the Hand’s Tournament by Jonathan Burton.

As you can see, Sansa loves tourneys because GRRM loves tourneys.

During the events that take place in the ASOIAF Books, we find 5 tourneys and Sansa Stark is directly or indirectly linked with all of them:

The Hand's tourney, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s father, Eddard Stark. Sansa was unofficially crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell. GRRM wrote this passage as a resemblance to the Great tourney at Harrenhal, hiding hints and reversing colors.

Tourney on King Joffrey's name day, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s betrothed. Sansa defended and saved Dontos Hollard’s life.

Melee at Bitterbridge, Brienne won the melee and earned a place in Renly’s Kingsguard. Later she swore his allegiance to Sansa’s mother, Catelyn Stark, and made an oath to find Sansa Stark. Brienne also wields Oathkeeper, a sword made of Ice (House Stark ancestral sword).

Melee at Runestone, this event was organized with the sole intention of knighting Harrold Hardyng, Alayne Stone’s betrothed.

Tourney at the Gates of the Moon to select the members of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights, created and organized by Alayne Stone.

Sansa is also linked with other important tourneys that happened previously to the events of the ASOIAF Books:

Tourney at Ashford Meadows (The Hedge Knight), GRRM wrote the Hedge Knight when he was in the middle of writing A Clash of Kings, and he made sure of link the five initial champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadows (Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Hardyng & Targaryen) with Sansa’s suitors and betrothed. So Willas Tyrell and Harrold Hardyng are not a coincidence in Sansa’s arc, GRRM had already planned for this since he was writing A Clash of Kings.

Great tourney at Harrenhal, this tourney was won by Rhaegar Targaryen and as the champion he crowned Lyanna Stark (Sansa’s aunt & Jon Snow’s mother) as his Queen of Love and Beauty. And take note at this very interesting detail: Rhaegar Targaryen wearing an armor adorned with rubies (red) gave Lyanna Stark a crown of winter roses (blue), while Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, wearing an armor adorned with sapphires (blue) gave Sansa a (red) rose.

Sansa loves knights because GRRM loves knights. Remember that George’s Catholic high school (Marist) football team is called the Royal Knights:

Sansa loves pageantry because GRRM loves pageantry. Just look at his collection of knights and ladies figurines:

Sansa loves heraldry because GRRM loves heraldry. Take note that GRRM took inspiration from the antagonist of Ivanhoe, Brian de Bois-Guilbert’s sigil, to created House Corbray’s sigil:

Bois-Guilbert’s new shield bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, Gare le Corbeau.

—IVANHOE: A Romance

The youngest man in the party had three ravens on his chest, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. His brown hair was shoulder length; one stray lock curled down across his forehead. Ser Lyn Corbray, Alayne thought, with a wary glance at his hard mouth and restless eyes.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

(Not to mention that Sansa loves books because George loves books...)

There you have it, GRRM self inserts in a few of his ASOIAF characters, and Sansa Stark is one of them.

#Sansa Stark #GRRM #ASOIAF #Yes there is a House Corbray stained glass window in GRRM's office #George loves Brian de Bois Gilbert #Lyn Corbray is inspired in Bois Gilbert me thinks #Bois Gilbert kidnapped Rebecca...#:eyes emoji:#All tourneys in ASOIAF are inspired in Ivanhoe #I recommend you to read Ivanhoe #I recommend you to watch Ivanhoe movies too especially the Liz Taylor one #Radiant Liz Taylor played Rebecca

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the-hunchback-of-notre-dame · 3 years

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‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ at 25: An Oral History of Disney’s Darkest Animated Classic

Posted on Slashfilm on Monday, June 21st, 2021 by Josh Spiegel

“This Is Going to Change Your Life”

The future directors of The Hunchback of Notre Dame were riding high from the success of Beauty and the Beast. Or, at least, they were happy to be finished.

Gary Trousdale, director: After Beauty and the Beast, I was exhausted. Plus, Kirk and I were not entirely trusted at first, because we were novices. I was looking forward to going back to drawing.

Kirk Wise, director: It was this crazy, wonderful roller-coaster ride. I had all this vacation time and I took a couple months off.

Gary Trousdale: A little later, it was suggested: “If you want to get back into directing, start looking for a project. You can’t sit around doing nothing.”

Kirk Wise: [Songwriters] Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty had a pitch called Song of the Sea, a loose retelling of the Orpheus myth with humpback whales. I thought it was very strong.

Gary Trousdale: We were a few months in, and there was artwork and a rough draft. There were a couple tentative songs, and we were getting a head of steam.

Kirk Wise: The phone rang. It was Jeffrey [Katzenberg, then-chairman of Walt Disney Studios], saying, “Drop everything. I got your next picture: The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

Gary Trousdale: “I’ve already got Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. You’re going to do this.” It wasn’t like we were given a choice. It was, “Here’s the project. You’re on.”

Kirk Wise: I was pleased that [Jeffrey] was so excited about it. I think the success of Beauty and the Beast had a lot to do with him pushing it our way. It would’ve been crazy to say no.

Gary Trousdale: What [Kirk and I] didn’t know is that Alan and Stephen were being used as bait for us. And Jeffrey was playing us as bait for Alan and Stephen.

Alan Menken, composer: Jeffrey made reference to it being Michael Eisner’s passion project, which implied he was less enthused about it as a story source for an animated picture.

Stephen Schwartz, lyricist: They had two ideas. One was an adaptation of Hunchback and the other was about whales. We chose Hunchback. I’d seen the [Charles Laughton] movie. Then I read the novel and really liked it.

Peter Schneider, president of Disney Feature Animation (1985-99): I think what attracted Stephen was the darkness. One’s lust for something and one’s power and vengeance, and this poor, helpless fellow, Quasimodo.

Roy Conli, co-producer: I was working at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, doing new play development. I was asked if I’d thought about producing animation. I said, “Yeah, sure.”

Don Hahn, producer: The goose had laid lots of golden eggs. The studio was trying to create two units so they could have multiple films come out. Roy was tasked with something hard, to build a crew out of whole cloth.

Kirk Wise: The idea appealed to me because [of] the setting and main character. I worked with an elder story man, Joe Grant, [who] goes back to Snow White. He said, “Some of the best animation ideas are about a little guy with a big problem.” Hunchback fit that bill.

Gary Trousdale: It’s a story I always liked. When Jeffrey said, “This is going to change your life,” Kirk and I said, “Cool.” When I was a kid, I [had an] Aurora Monster Model of Quasimodo lashed to the wheel. I thought, “He’s not a monster.”

Don Hahn: It’s a great piece of literature and it had a lot of elements I liked. The underdog hero. [He] was not a handsome prince. I loved the potential.

Gary Trousdale: We thought, “What are we going to do to make this dark piece of literature into a Disney cartoon without screwing it up?”

Peter Schneider: The subject matter is very difficult. The conflict was how far to go with it or not go with it. This is basically [about] a pederast who says “Fuck me or you’ll die.” Right?

“We Were Able to Take More Chances”

Wise and Trousdale recruited a group of disparate artists from the States and beyond to bring the story of Quasimodo the bell-ringer to animated life.

Paul Brizzi, sequence director: We were freshly arrived from Paris.

Gaëtan Brizzi, sequence director: [The filmmakers] were looking for a great dramatic prologue, and they couldn’t figure [it] out. Paul and I spent the better part of the night conceiving this prologue. They said, “You have to storyboard it. We love it.”

Roy Conli: We had two amazing artists in Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi who became spiritual leaders in the production. They were so incredible.

Gaëtan Brizzi: [“The Bells of Notre Dame”] was not supposed to be a song first.

Paul Brizzi: The prologue was traditional in the Disney way. Gaëtan and I were thinking of German expressionism to emphasize the drama. I’m not sure we could do that today.

Paul Kandel, voice of Clopin: They were toying with Clopin being the narrator. So they wrote “The Bells of Notre Dame” to open the movie.

Stephen Schwartz: [Alan and I] got called into a presentation, and on all these boards [was] laid out “The Bells of Notre Dame.” We musicalized the story they put up there. We used the pieces of dialogue they invented for Frollo and the other characters. I wrote lyrics that described the narrative. It was very exciting. I had never written a song like that.

Kirk Wise: Early on, we [took] a research trip with the core creative team to Paris. We spent two weeks all over Notre Dame. They gave us unrestricted access, going down into the catacombs. That was a huge inspiration.

Don Hahn: To crawl up in the bell towers and imagine Quasimodo there, to see the bells and the timbers, the scale of it all is unbelievable.

Kirk Wise: One morning, I was listening to this pipe organ in this shadowy cathedral, with light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The sound was so powerful, I could feel it thudding in my chest. I thought, “This is what the movie needs to feel like.”

Brenda Chapman, story: It was fun to sit in a room and draw and think up stuff. I liked the idea of this lonely character up in a bell tower and how we could portray his imagination.

Kathy Zielinski, supervising animator, Frollo: It was the earliest I’ve ever started on a production. I was doing character designs for months. I did a lot of design work for the gargoyles, as a springboard for the other supervisors.

James Baxter, supervising animator, Quasimodo: Kirk and Gary said, “We’d like you to do Quasimodo.” [I thought] that would be such a cool, amazing thing to do. They wanted this innocent vibe to him. Part of the design process was getting that part of his character to read.

Will Finn, head of story/supervising animator, Laverne: Kirk and Gary wanted me on the project. Kirk, Gary, and Don Hahn gave me opportunities no one else would have, and I am forever grateful.

Kathy Zielinski: I spent several months doing 50 or 60 designs [for Frollo]. I looked at villainous actors. Actually, one was Peter Schneider. [laughing] Not to say he’s a villain, but a lot of the mannerisms and poses. “Oh, that looks a little like Peter.”

James Baxter: I was doing design work on the characters with Tony Fucile, the animator on Esmerelda. I think Kirk and Gary felt Beauty and the Beast had been disparate and the characters weren’t as unified as they wanted.

Kathy Zielinski: Frollo stemmed from Hans Conried [the voice of Disney’s Captain Hook]. He had a longish nose and a very stern-looking face. Frollo was modeled a little bit after him.

Will Finn: The team they put together was a powerhouse group – Brenda Chapman, Kevin Harkey, Ed Gombert, and veterans like Burny Mattinson and Vance Gerry. I felt funny being their “supervisor.”

Kathy Zielinski: Half my crew was in France, eight hours ahead. We were able to do phone calls. But because of the time difference, our end of the day was their beginning of the morning. I was working a lot of late hours, because [Frollo] was challenging to draw.

Kirk Wise: Our secret weapon was James Baxter, who animated the ballroom sequence [in Beauty and the Beast] on his own. He had a unique gift of rotating characters in three-dimensional space perfectly.

Gary Trousdale: James Baxter is, to my mind, one of the greatest living animators in the world.

James Baxter: I’ve always enjoyed doing things that were quite elaborate in terms of camera movement and three-dimensional space. I’m a glutton for punishment, because those shots are very hard to do.

Gary Trousdale: In the scene with Quasimodo carrying Esmeralda over his shoulder, climbing up the cathedral, he looks back under his arms, snarling at the crowd below. James called that his King Kong moment.

As production continued, Roy Conli’s position shifted, as Don Hahn joined the project, and Jeffrey Katzenberg left Disney in heated fashion in 1994.

Roy Conli: Jeffrey was going to create his own animation studio. Peter Schneider was interested in maintaining a relationship with Don Hahn. We were into animation, ahead of schedule. They asked Don if he would produce and if I would run the studio in Paris.

Don Hahn: Roy hadn’t done an animated film before. I was able to be a more senior presence. I’d worked with Kirk and Gary before, which I enjoy. They’re unsung heroes of these movies.

Kirk Wise: The [production] pace was more leisurely. As leisurely as these things can be. We had more breathing room to develop the storyboards and the script and the songs.

Gary Trousdale: Jeffrey never liked characters to have facial hair. No beards, no mustaches, nothing. There’s original designs of Gaston [with] a little Errol Flynn mustache. Jeffrey hated it. “I don’t want any facial hair.” Once he left, we were like, “We could give [Phoebus] a beard now.”

Kirk Wise: The ballroom sequence [in Beauty] gave us confidence to incorporate more computer graphics into Hunchback. We [had] to create the illusion of a throng of thousands of cheering people. To do it by hand would have been prohibitive, and look cheap.

Stephen Schwartz: Michael Eisner started being more hands-on. Michael was annoyed at me for a while, because when Jeffrey left, I accepted the job of doing the score for Prince of Egypt. I got fired from Mulan because of it. But once he fired me, Michael couldn’t have been a more supportive, positive colleague on Hunchback.

Kirk Wise: [The executives] were distracted. We were able to take more chances than we would have under the circumstances that we made Beauty and the Beast.

Don Hahn: Hunchback was in a league of its own, feeling like we [could] step out and take some creative risks. We could have done princess movies forever, and been reasonably successful. Our long-term survival relied on trying those risks.

One sticking point revolved around Notre Dame’s gargoyles, three of whom interact with Quasimodo, but feel more lighthearted than the rest of the dark story.

Gary Trousdale: In the book and several of the movies, Quasimodo talks to the gargoyles. We thought, “This is Disney, we’re doing a cartoon. The gargoyles can talk back.” One thing led to another and we’ve got “A Guy Like You.”

Kirk Wise: “A Guy Like You” was literally created so we could lighten the mood so the audience wasn’t sitting in this trough of despair for so long.

Stephen Schwartz: Out of context, the number is pretty good. I think I wrote some funny lyrics. But ultimately it was a step too far tonally for the movie and it has been dropped from the stage version.

Gary Trousdale: People have been asking for a long time: are they real? Are they part of Quasimodo’s personality? There were discussions that maybe Quasimodo is schizophrenic. We never definitively answered it, and can argue convincingly both ways.

Jason Alexander, voice of Hugo: I wouldn’t dream of interfering with anyone’s choice on that. It’s ambiguous for a reason and part of that reason is the viewers’ participation in the answer. Whatever you believe about it, I’m going to say you’re right.

Brenda Chapman: I left before they landed on how [to play] the gargoyles. My concern was, what are the rules? Are they real? Are they in his imagination? What can they do? Can they do stuff or is it all Quasi? I looked at it a little askance in the finished film. I wasn’t sure if I liked how it ended up…[Laverne] with the boa on the piano.

Kirk Wise: There was a component of the audience that felt the gargoyles were incompatible with Hunchback. But all of Disney’s movies, including the darkest ones, have comic-relief characters. And Disney was the last person to treat the written word as gospel.

“A Fantastic Opportunity”

After a successful collaboration on Pocahontas, Menken and Schwartz worked on turning Victor Hugo’s tragic story into a musical.

Alan Menken: The world of the story was very appealing, and it had so much social relevance and cultural nuance.

Stephen Schwartz: The story lent itself quite well to musicalization because of the extremity of the characters and the emotions. There was a lot to sing about. There was a great milieu.

Alan Menken: To embed the liturgy of the Catholic Church into a piece of music that’s operatic and also classical and pop-oriented enriches it in a very original way. Stephen was amazing. He would take the theme from the story and specifically set it in Latin to that music.

Stephen Schwartz: The fact that we were doing a piece set in a church allowed us to use all those elements of the Catholic mass, and for Alan to do all that wonderful choral music.

Alan Menken: The first creative impulse was “Out There.” I’m a craftsman. I’m working towards a specific assignment, but that was a rare instance where that piece of music existed.

Stephen Schwartz: I would come in with a title, maybe a couple of lines for Alan to be inspired by. We would talk about the whole unit, its job from a storytelling point of view. He would write some music. I could say, “I liked that. Let’s follow that.” He’d push a button and there would be a sloppy printout, enough that I could play it as I was starting the lyrics.

Roy Conli: Stephen’s lyrics are absolutely phenomenal. With that as a guiding light, we were in really good shape.

Stephen Schwartz: Alan played [the “Out There” theme] for me, and I really liked it. I asked for one change in the original chorus. Other than that, the music was exactly as he gave it to me.

Gary Trousdale: Talking with these guys about music is always intimidating. There was one [lyric] Don and I both questioned in “Out There,” when Frollo is singing, “Why invite their calumny and consternation?” Don and I went, “Calumny?” Kirk said, “Nope, it’s OK, I saw it in an X-Men comic book.” I went, “All right! It’s in a comic book! It’s good.”

Stephen Schwartz: Disney made it possible for me to get into Notre Dame before it opened to the public. I’d climb up the steps to the bell tower. I’d sit there with my yellow pad and pencil. I’d have the tune for “Out There” in my head, and I would look out at Paris, and be Quasimodo. By the time we left Paris, the song was written.

Kirk Wise: Stephen’s lyrics are really smart and literate. I don’t think the comical stuff was necessarily [his] strongest area. But this movie was a perfect fit, because the power of the emotions were so strong. Stephen just has a natural ability to connect with that.

Will Finn: The directors wanted a funny song for the gargoyles and Stephen was not eager to write it. He came to me and Irene Mecchi and asked us to help him think of comedy ideas for “A Guy Like You,” and we pitched a bunch of gags.

Jason Alexander: Singing with an orchestra the likes of which Alan and Stephen and Disney can assemble is nirvana. It’s electrifying and gives you the boost to sing over and over. Fortunately, everyone was open to discovery. I love nuance and intention in interpretation. I was given wonderful freedom to find both.

Stephen Schwartz: “Topsy Turvy,” it’s one of those numbers of musical theater where you can accomplish an enormous amount of storytelling. If you didn’t have that, you’d feel you were drowning in exposition. When you put it in the context of the celebration of the Feast of Fools, you could get a lot of work done.

Paul Kandel: The first time I sang [“Topsy Turvy”] through, I got a little applause from the orchestra. That was a very nice thing to happen and calm me down a little bit.

Brenda Chapman: Poor Kevin Harkey must’ve worked on “Topsy Turvy” for over a year. Just hearing [singing] “Topsy turvy!” I thought, “I would shoot myself.” It’s a fun song, but to listen to that, that many times. I don’t know if he ever got to work on anything else.

Paul Kandel: There were places where I thought the music was squarer than it needed to be. I wanted to round it out because Clopin is unpredictable. Is he good? Is he bad? That’s what I was trying to edge in there.

Kirk Wise: “God Help the Outcasts” made Jeffrey restless. I think he wanted “Memory” from Cats. Alan and Stephen wrote “Someday.” Jeffrey said, “This is good, but it needs to be bigger!” Alan was sitting at his piano bench, and Jeffrey was next to him. Jeffrey said, “When I want it bigger, I’ll nudge you.” Alan started playing and Jeffrey was jabbing him in the ribs. “Bigger, bigger!”

Don Hahn: In terms of what told the story better, one song was poetic, but the other was specific. “Outcasts” was very specific about Quasimodo. “Someday” was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Kirk Wise: When Don watched the movie, he said, “It’s working pretty well. But ‘Someday,’ I don’t know. It feels like she’s yelling at God.” We played “God Help the Outcasts” for him and Don said, “Oh, this is perfect.” That song is the signature of the entire movie.

Don Hahn: “Someday” was lovely. But I had come off of working with Howard Ashman, and I felt, “This doesn’t move the plot forward much, does it?” We ended up with “Someday” as an end-credits song, which was fortunate. ‘Cause they’re both good songs.

Kirk Wise: It was all about what conveys the emotion of the scene and the central theme of the movie best. “God Help the Outcasts” did that.

Everyone agrees on one point.

Stephen Schwartz: Hunchback is Alan’s best score. And that’s saying a lot, because he’s written a whole bunch of really good ones.

Gary Trousdale: With Hunchback, there were a couple of people that said, “This is why I chose music as a career.” Alan and Stephen’s songs are so amazing, so that’s really something.

Paul Kandel: It has a beautiful score.

Jason Alexander: It has the singularly most sophisticated score of most of the animated films of that era.

Roy Conli: The score of Hunchback is one of the greatest we’ve done.

Don Hahn: This is Alan’s most brilliant score. The amount of gravitas Alan put in the score is amazing.

Alan Menken: It’s the most ambitious score I’ve ever written. It has emotional depth. It’s a different assignment. And it was the project where awards stopped happening. It’s almost like, “OK, now you’ve gone too far.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s astonishing that Alan has won about 173 Academy Awards, and the one score he did not win for is his best score.

The film featured marquee performers singing covers of “God Help the Outcasts” and “Someday”. But one of the most famous performers ever nearly brought those songs to life.

Alan Menken: I met Michael Jackson when we were looking for someone to sing “A Whole New World” for Aladdin. Michael wanted to co-write the song. I could get a sense of who Michael was. He was a very unique, interesting individual…in his own world.

I get a call out of nowhere from Michael’s assistant, when Michael was at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York. He had to [deal with] allegations about inappropriate behavior with underage kids, and the breakup with Lisa Marie Presley. He’s looking to change the subject. And he obviously loves Disney so much. So I mentioned Hunchback. He said he’d love to come to my studio, watch the movie and talk about it. So we got in touch with Disney Animation. They said, “Meet with him! If he likes it…well, see what he says.” [laughing]

There’s three songs. One was “Out There,” one was “God Help the Outcasts,” one was “Someday.” Michael said, “I would like to produce the songs and record some of them.” Wow. Okay. What do we do now? Michael left. We got in touch with Disney. It was like somebody dropped a hot poker into a fragile bowl with explosives. “Uh, we’ll get back to you about that.”

Finally, predictably, the word came back, “Disney doesn’t want to do this with Michael Jackson.” I go, “OK, could someone tell him this?” You can hear a pin drop, no response, and nobody did [tell him]. It fell to my late manager, Scott Shukat, to tell Michael or Michael’s attorney.

In retrospect, it was the right decision. [But] Quasimodo is a character…if you look at his relationships with his family and his father, I would think there’s a lot of identification there.

“They’re Never Going to Do This Kind of Character Again”

The film is known for the way it grapples with the hypocrisy and lust typified by the villainous Judge Frollo, whose terrifying song “Hellfire” remains a high point of Disney animation.

Gary Trousdale: Somebody asked me recently: “How the hell did you get ‘Hellfire’ past Disney?” It’s a good question.

Alan Menken: When Stephen and I wrote “Hellfire,” I was so excited by what we accomplished. It really raised the bar for Disney animation. It raised the bar for Stephen’s and my collaboration.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought the would never let me get away with [“Hellfire”]. And they never asked for a single change.

Alan Menken: Lust and religious conflict. Now more than ever, these are very thorny issues to put in front of the Disney audience. We wanted to go at it as truthfully as possible.

Stephen Schwartz: When Alan and I tackled “Hellfire,” I did what I usually did: write what I thought it should be and assume that [Disney would] tell me what I couldn’t get away with. But they accepted exactly what we wrote.

Don Hahn: Every good song score needs a villain’s moment. Stephen and Alan approached it with “Hellfire.”

Alan Menken: It was very clear, we’d thrown the gauntlet pretty far. It was also clear within our creative team that everybody was excited about going there.

Don Hahn: You use all the tools in your toolkit, and one of the most powerful ones was Alan and Stephen. Stephen can be dark, but he’s also very funny. He’s brilliant.

Gary Trousdale: The [MPAA] said, “When Frollo says ‘This burning desire is turning me to sin,’ we don’t like the word ‘sin.’” We can’t change the lyrics now. It’s all recorded. Kinda tough. “What if we just dip the volume of the word ‘sin’ and increase the sound effects?” They said, “Good.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s one of the most admirable things [laughs] I have ever seen Disney Animation do. It was very supportive and adventurous, which is a spirit that…let’s just say, I don’t think [the company would] make this movie today.

Don Hahn: It’s funny. Violence is far more accepted than sex in a family movie. You can go see a Star Wars movie and the body count’s pretty huge, but there’s rarely any sexual innuendo.

Kathy Zielinski: I got to watch [Tony Jay] record “Hellfire” with another actor. I was sweating watching him record, because it was unbelievably intense. Afterwards, he asked me, “Did you learn anything from my performance?” I said, “Yeah, I never want to be a singer.” [laughing]

Paul Kandel: Tony Jay knocked that out of the park. He [was] an incredible guy. Very sweet. He was terrified to record “Hellfire.” He was at a couple of my sessions. He went, “Oh my God, what’s going to happen when it’s my turn? I don’t sing. I’m not a singer. I never pretended to be a singer.” I said, “Look, I’m not a singer. I’m an actor who figured out that they could hold a tune.”

Kathy Zielinski: I listened to Tony sing “Hellfire” tons. I knew I had gone too far when, one morning, we were sitting at the breakfast table and my daughter, who was two or three at the time, started singing the song and doing the mannerisms. [laughs]

Don Hahn: We didn’t literally want to show [Frollo’s lust]. It turns into a Fantasia sequence, almost. A lot of the imagery is something you could see coming out of Frollo’s imagination. It’s very impressionistic. It does stretch the boundaries of what had been done before at Disney.

Kirk Wise: We stylized it like “Night on Bald Mountain.” The best of Walt’s films balanced very dark and light elements. Instead of making it explicit, we tried to make it more visual and use symbolic imagery.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We were totally free. We could show symbolically how sick Frollo is between his hate and his carnal desire.

Kathy Zielinski: The storyboards had a tremendous influence. Everybody was incredibly admiring of the work that [Paul and Gaëtan] had done.

Don Hahn: They brought the storyboarded sequence to life in a way that is exactly what the movie looks like. The strength of it is that we didn’t have to show anything as much as we did suggest things to the audience. Give the audience credit for filling in the blanks.

Gary Trousdale: It was absolutely gorgeous. Their draftsmanship and their cinematography. They are the top. They pitched it with a cassette recording of Stephen singing “Hellfire”, and we were all in the story room watching it, going “Oh shit!”

Paul Brizzi: When Frollo is at the fireplace with Esmeralda’s scarf, his face is hypnotized. From the smoke, there’s the silhouette of Esmeralda coming to him. She’s naked in our drawings.

Gary Trousdale: We joked, maybe because they’re French, Esmeralda was in the nude when she was in the fire. Roy Disney put his foot down and said, “That’s not going to happen.” Chris Jenkins, the head of effects, and I went over every drawing to make sure she was appropriately attired. That was the one concession we made to the studio.

Gaëtan Brizzi: It’s the role of storyboard artists to go far, and then you scale it down. Her body was meant to be suggestive. It was more poetic than provocative.

Brenda Chapman: I thought what the Brizzis did with “Hellfire” was just stunning.

Roy Conli: We make films for people from four to 104, and we’re trying to ensure that the thematic material engages adults and engages children. We had a lot of conversations on “Hellfire,” [which] was groundbreaking. You saw the torment, but you didn’t necessarily, if you were a kid, read it as sexual. And if you were an adult, you picked it up pretty well.

Will Finn: “Hellfire” was uncomfortable to watch with a family audience. I’m not a prude, but what are small kids to make of such a scene?

Kathy Zielinski: When I was working on “Hellfire,” I thought, “Wow. They’re never going to do this kind of character again.” And I’m pretty much right.

“Straight for the Heart”

“Hellfire” may be the apex of the maturity of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but the entire film is the most complex and adult Disney animated feature of the modern era.

Gary Trousdale: We went straight for the heart and then pulled back.

Kirk Wise: I was comfortable with moments of broad comedy contrasted with moments that were dark or scary or violent. All of the Disney movies did that, particularly in Walt’s time.

Don Hahn: A lot of it is gut level, where [the story group would] sit around and talk to ourselves and pitch it to executives. But Walt Disney’s original animated films were really dark. We wanted to create something that had the impact of what animation can do.

Will Finn: Eisner insisted we follow the book to the letter, but he said the villain could not be a priest, and we had to have a happy ending. The book is an epic tragedy – everybody dies!

Kathy Zielinski: It’s a little scary that I felt comfortable with [Frollo]. [laughing] I don’t know what that means. Maybe I need to go to therapy. I’ve always had a desire to do villains. I just love evil.

Don Hahn: Kathy Zielinski is brilliant. She works on The Simpsons now, which is hilarious. She’s very intense, very aware of what [Frollo] had to do.

One specific choice in the relationship between Frollo and Esmeralda caused problems.

Stephen Schwartz: I remember there was great controversy over Frollo sniffing Esmeralda’s hair.

Kirk Wise: The scene that caused the most consternation was in the cathedral where Frollo grabs Esmeralda, whispers in her ear and sniffs her hair. The sniffing made people ask, “Is this too far?” We got a lot of support from Peter Schneider, Tom Schumacher, and Michael Eisner.

Kathy Zielinski: Brenda Chapman came up with that idea and the storyboard. I animated it. It’s interesting, because two females were responsible for that. That scene was problematic, so they had to cut it down. It used to be a lot longer.

Brenda Chapman: I know I’m probably pushing it too far, but let’s give it a go, you know?

Kirk Wise: We agreed it was going to be a matter of execution and our collective gut would tell us whether we were crossing the line. We learned that the difference between a G and PG is the loudness of a sniff. Ultimately, that’s what it came down to.

Brenda Chapman: I never knew that! [laughing]

Don Hahn: Is it rated G? That’s surprising.

Gary Trousdale: I’m sure there was backroom bargaining done that Kirk and I didn’t know about.

Don Hahn: It’s negotiation. The same was true of The Lion King. We had intensity notes on the fight at the end. You either say, we’re going to live with that and it’s PG, or we’re not and it’s G.

Brenda Chapman: I heard stories of little kids going, “Ewww, he’s rubbing his boogers in her hair!” [laughing] If that’s what they want to think, that’s fine. But there are plenty of adults that went, “Whoa!”

Don Hahn: You make the movies for yourselves, [but] we all have families, and you try to make something that’s appropriate for that audience. So we made some changes. Frollo isn’t a member of the clergy to take out any politicizing.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We developed the idea of Frollo’s racism against the gypsies. To feel that he desires Esmeralda and he wants to kill her. It was ambiguity that was interesting to develop. In the storyboards, Paul made [Frollo] handsome with a big jaw, a guy with class. They said he was too handsome. We had to break that formula.

Stephen Schwartz: I [and others] said, “It doesn’t make any sense for him to not be the Archdeacon, because what’s he doing with Quasimodo? What possible relationship could they have?” Which is what led to the backstory that became “The Bells of Notre Dame.”

Don Hahn: The things Frollo represents are alive and well in the world. Bigotry and prejudice are human traits and always have been. One of his traits was lust. How do you portray that in a Disney movie? We tried to portray that in a way that might be over kids’ heads and may not give them nightmares necessarily, but it’s not going to pull its punches. So it was a fine line.

Stephen Schwartz: Hugo’s novel is not critical of the church the way a lot of French literature is. It creates this character of Frollo, who’s a deeply hypocritical person and tormented by his hypocrisy.

Peter Schneider: I am going to be controversial. I think it failed. The fundamental basis is problematic, if you’re going to try and do a Disney movie. In [light of] the #MeToo movement, you couldn’t still do the movie and try what we tried to do. As much as we tried to soften it, you couldn’t get away from the fundamental darkness.

Don Hahn: Yeah, that sounds like Peter. He’s always the contrarian.

Peter Schneider: I’m not sure we should have made the movie, in retrospect. I mean, it did well, Kirk and Gary did a beautiful job. The voices are beautiful. The songs are lovely, but I’m not sure we should have made the movie.

Gaëtan Brizzi: The hardest part was to stick to the commercial side of the movie…to make sure we were still addressing kids.

Kirk Wise: We knew it was going to be a challenge to honor the source material while delivering a movie that would fit comfortably on the shelf with the other Disney musicals. We embraced it.

Roy Conli: I don’t think it was too mature. I do find it at times slightly provocative, but not in a judgmental or negative way. I stand by the film 100 percent in sending a message of hope.

Peter Schneider: It never settled its tone. If you look at the gargoyles and bringing in Jason Alexander to try and give comedy to this rather bleak story of a judge keeping a deformed young man in the tower…there’s so many icky factors for a Disney movie.

Jason Alexander: Some children might be frightened by Quasi’s look or not be able to understand the complexity. But what we see is an honest, innocent and capable underdog confront his obstacles and naysayers and emerge triumphant, seen and accepted. I think young people rally to those stories. They can handle the fearsome and celebrate the good.

Brenda Chapman: There was a scene where Frollo was locking Quasimodo in the tower, and Quasi was quite upset. I had to pull back from how cruel Frollo was in that moment, if I’m remembering correctly. I wanted to make him a very human monster, which can be scarier than a real monster.

Roy Conli: We walked such a tight line and we were on the edge and the fact that Disney allowed us to be on the edge was a huge tribute to them.

“Hear the Voice”

The story was set, the songs were ready. All that was left was getting a cast together to bring the characters’ voices to life.

Jason Alexander: Disney, Alan Menken, Stephen Schwartz, Victor Hugo – you had me at hello.

Paul Kandel: I was in Tommy, on Broadway. I was also a Tony nominee. So I had those prerequisites. Then I got a call from my agent that Jeffrey Katzenberg decided he wanted a star. I was out of a job I already had. I said, “I want to go back in and audition again.” I wanted to let them choose between me and whoever had a name that would help sell the film. So that series of auditions went on and I got the job back.

Kirk Wise: Everybody auditioned, with the exception of Kevin Kline and Demi Moore. We went to them with an offer. But we had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Meat Loaf.

Will Finn: Katzenberg saw Meat Loaf and Cher playing Quasimodo and Esmeralda – more of a rock opera. He also wanted Leno, Letterman, and Arsenio as the gargoyles at one point.

Kirk Wise: Meat Loaf sat with Alan and rehearsed the song. It was very different than what we ended up with, because Meat Loaf has a very distinct sound. Ultimately, I think his record company and Disney couldn’t play nice together, and the deal fell apart.

Gary Trousdale: We all had the drawings of the characters we were currently casting for in front of us. Instead of watching the actor, we’d be looking down at the piece of paper, trying to hear that voice come out of the drawing. And it was, we learned, a little disconcerting for some of the actors and actresses, who would put on hair and makeup and clothes and they’ve got their body language and expressions. We just want to hear the voice.

Kirk Wise: We cast Cyndi Lauper as one of the gargoyles. We thought she was hilarious and sweet. The little fat obnoxious gargoyle had a different name, and was going to be played by Sam McMurray. We had Cyndi and Sam record, and Roy Disney hated it. The quality of Cyndi’s voice and Sam’s voice were extremely grating to his ear. This is no disrespect to them – Cyndi Lauper is amazing. And Sam McMurray is very funny. But it was not working for the people in the room on that day.

Jason Alexander: The authors cast you for a reason – they think they’ve heard a voice in you that fits their character. I always try to look at the image of the character – his shape, his size, his energy and start to allow sounds, pitches, vocal tics to emerge. Then everyone kicks that around, nudging here, tweaking there and within a few minutes you have the approach to the vocalization. It’s not usually a long process, but it is fun.

Kirk Wise: We decided to reconceive the gargoyles. We always knew we wanted three of them. We wanted a Laurel and Hardy pair. The third gargoyle, the female gargoyle, was up in the air. I think it was Will Finn who said, “Why don’t we make her older?” As the wisdom-keeper. That led us to Mary Wickes, who was absolutely terrific. We thoroughly enjoyed working with Mary, and 98% of the dialogue is her. But she sadly passed away before we were finished.

Will Finn: We brought in a ton of voice-over actresses and none sounded like Mary. One night, I woke up thinking about Jane Withers, who had been a character actress in the golden age of Hollywood. She had a similar twang in her voice, and very luckily, she was alive and well.

Kirk Wise: Our first session with Kevin Kline went OK, but something was missing. It just didn’t feel like there was enough of a twinkle in his voice. Roy Conli said, “Guys, he’s an actor. Give him a prop.” For the next session, the supervising animator for Phoebus brought in a medieval broadsword. Before the session started, we said “Kevin, we’ve got a present for you.” We brought out this sword, and he lit up like a kid at Christmas. He would gesture with it and lean on it. Roy found the key there.

Gary Trousdale: Kevin Kline is naturally funny, so we may have [written] some funnier lines for him. When he’s sparring with Esmeralda in the cathedral and he gets hit by the goat. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” which is the worst line ever. But he pulls it off. He had good comic timing.

Kirk Wise: Tom Hulce had a terrific body of work, including Amadeus. But the performance that stuck with me was in Dominic and Eugene. There was a sensitivity and emotional reality to that performance that made us lean in and think he might make a good Quasimodo.

Gary Trousdale: [His voice] had a nice mix of youthful and adult. He had a maturity, but he had an innocence as well. We’re picturing Quasimodo as a guy who’s basically an innocent. It was a quality of his voice that we could hear.

Don Hahn: He’s one of those actors who could perform and act while he sang. Solo songs, especially for Quasimodo, are monologues set to music. So you’re looking for someone who can portray all the emotion of the scene. It’s about performance and storytelling, and creating a character while you’re singing. That’s why Tom rose to the top.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought Tom did great. I had known Tom a little bit beforehand, as an actor in New York. I’d seen him do Equus and I was sort of surprised. I just knew him as an actor in straight plays. I didn’t know that he sang at all, and then it turned out that he really sang.

Paul Kandel: [Tom] didn’t think of himself as a singer. He’s an actor who can sing. “Out There,” his big number – whether he’s going to admit it to you or not – that was scary for him. But a beautiful job.

Brenda Chapman: Quasimodo was the key to make it family-friendly. Tom Hulce did such a great job making him appealing.

Kirk Wise: Gary came back with the audiotape of Tom’s first session. And his first appearance with the little bird, where he asks if the bird is ready to fly…that whole scene was his rehearsal tape. His instincts were so good. He just nailed it. I think he was surprised that we went with that take. It was the least overworked and the most spontaneous, and felt emotionally real to us.

Kathy Zielinski: Early on, they wanted Anthony Hopkins to do the voice [of Frollo]. [We] did an animation test with a line of his from Silence of the Lambs.

Kirk Wise: We were thinking of Hannibal Lecter in the earliest iterations of Frollo. They made an offer, but Hopkins passed. We came full circle to Tony, because it had been such a good experience working with him on Beauty and the Beast. It was the combination of the quality of his voice, the familiarity of working with him, and knowing how professional and sharp he was.

Though the role of Quasimodo went to Tom Hulce (who did not respond to multiple requests for comment), there was one audition those involved haven’t forgotten.

Kirk Wise: We had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Mandy Patinkin.

Stephen Schwartz: That was a difficult day. [laughing]

Kirk Wise: Mandy informed Alan and Stephen that he brought his own accompanist, which was unexpected because we had one in the room. He had taken a few liberties with [“Out There”]. He had done a little rearranging. You could see Alan’s and Stephen’s spines stiffen. It was not the feel that Alan and Stephen were going for. Stephen pretty much said so in the room. I think his words were a little sharper and more pointed than mine.

Stephen Schwartz: I’ve never worked with Mandy Patinkin. But I admired Evita and Sunday in the Park with George. He came in to audition for Quasimodo. When I came in, Ben Vereen was sitting in the hallway. Ben is a friend of mine and kind of a giant star. I felt we should be polite in terms of bringing him in relatively close to the time for which he was called.

Mandy took a long time with his audition, and asked to do it over and over again. If you’re Mandy Patinkin, you should have enough time scheduled to feel you were able to show what you wanted to show. However, that amount of time was not scheduled. At a certain point, I became a bit agitated because I knew Ben was sitting there, cooling his heels. I remember asking [to] move along or something. That created a huge contretemps.

Kirk Wise: Gary and I stepped outside to work on a dialogue scene with Mandy. As we were explaining the scene and our take on the character, Mandy threw up his hands and said, “Guys, I’m really sorry. I can’t do this.” He turned on his heel and went into the rehearsal hall and shut the door. We started hearing an intense argument. He basically went in and read Alan and Stephen the riot act. The door opens, smoke issuing from the crater that he left inside. Mandy storms out, and he’s gone. We step back in the room, asking, “What the hell happened?”

Gary Trousdale: I did a drawing of it afterwards. The Patinkin Incident.

Stephen Schwartz: Battleship Patinkin!

“Join the Party”

The darkness in the film made it difficult to market. Even some involved acknowledged the issue. In the run-up to release, Jason Alexander said to Entertainment Weekly, “Disney would have us believe this movie’s like the Ringling Bros., for children of all ages. But I won’t be taking my 4-year old. I wouldn’t expose him to it, not for another year.”

Alan Menken: There was all the outrage about Jason Alexander referring to it as a dark story that’s not for kids. Probably Disney wasn’t happy he said that.

Jason Alexander: Most Disney animated films are entertaining and engaging for any child with an attention span. All of them have elements that are frightening. But people are abused in Hunchback. These are people, not cute animals. Some children could be overwhelmed by some of it at a very young age. My son at the time could not tolerate any sense of dread in movies so it would have been hard for him. However, that is certainly not all children.

Don Hahn: I don’t think Jason was wrong. People have to decide for themselves. It probably wasn’t a movie for four-year olds. You as a parent know your kid better than I do.

If everyone agrees the score is excellent, they also agree on something that was not.

Alan Menken: God knows we couldn’t control how Disney marketing dealt with the movie, which was a parade with Quasimodo on everybody’s shoulders going, “Join the party.” [laughing]

Roy Conli: I always thought “Animation comes of age” would be a great [tagline]. I think the marketing ended up, “Join the party.”

Brenda Chapman: Marketing had it as this big party. And then you get into the story and there’s all this darkness. I think audiences were not expecting that, if they didn’t know the original story.

Kathy Zielinski: It was a hard movie for Disney to merchandise and sell to the public.

Gaëtan Brizzi: People must have been totally surprised by the dramatic sequences. The advertising was not reflecting what the movie was about.

Stephen Schwartz: To this day, they just don’t know how to market “Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I understand what their quandary is. They have developed a brand that says, “If you see the word Disney on something, it means you can take your 6-year old.” You probably shouldn’t even take your 8-year old, unless he or she is very mature, to Hunchback.

Alan Menken: We [Disney] had such a run of successful projects. It was inevitable there was going to be a time where people said, “I’ve seen all those, but what else is out there?” I had that experience sitting at a diner with my family, overhearing a family talk about Hunchback and say, “Oh yeah, we saw Beauty and Aladdin, but this one…let’s see something else.”

Stephen Schwartz: I did have a sense that some in the critical community didn’t know how to reconcile animation and an adult approach. They have the same attitude some critics have about musicals. “It’s fine if it’s tap-dancing and about silly subjects. But if it’s something that has intellectual import, you can’t do that.” Obviously we have Hamilton and Sweeney Todd and Wicked. Over the years, that’s changed to some extent, but not for everybody.

Roy Conli: Every film is not a Lion King. [But] if that story has legs and will touch people, then you’ve succeeded.

Kirk Wise: We were a little disappointed in its initial weekend. It didn’t do as well as we hoped. We were also disappointed in the critical reaction. It was well-reviewed, but more mixed. Roger Ebert loved us. The New York Times hated us! I felt whipsawed. It was the same critic [Janet Maslin] who praised Beauty and the Beast to the high heavens. She utterly shat on Hunchback.

Don Hahn: We had really good previews, but we also knew it was out of the box creatively. We were also worried about the French and we were worried about the handicapped community and those were the two communities that supported the movie the most.

Will Finn: I knew we were in trouble when the first trailers played and audiences laughed at Quasimodo singing “Out There” on the roof.

Kirk Wise: All of us were proud of the movie on an artistic level. In terms of animation and backgrounds and music and the use of the camera and the performances. It’s the entire studio operating at its peak level of performance, as far as I’m concerned.

Gary Trousdale: I didn’t think people were going to have such a negative reaction to the gargoyles. They’re a little silly. And they do undercut the gravity. But speaking with friends who were kids at the time, they have nothing but fond memories. There were adults, high school age and older when they saw it, they were turned off. We thought it was going to do really great. We thought, “We’re topping ourselves.” It’s a sophisticated story and the music is amazing.

Kirk Wise: The 2D animated movies used to be released before Christmas [or] Thanksgiving. The Lion King changed that. Now everything was a summer release. I always questioned the wisdom of releasing Hunchback in the summertime, in competition with other blockbusters.

Paul Kandel: It made $300 million and it cost $80 million to make. So they were not hurting as far as profits were concerned. But I thought it was groundbreaking in so many ways that I was surprised at the mixed reviews.

Kirk Wise: By most measures, it was a hit. I think The Lion King spoiled everybody, because [it] was such a phenomenon, a bolt from the blue, not-to-be-repeated kind of event.

Gary Trousdale: We were getting mixed reviews. Some of them were really good. “This is a stunning masterpiece.” And other people were saying, “This is a travesty.” And the box office was coming in, not as well as hoped.

Don Hahn: I was in Argentina doing South American press. I got a call from Peter Schneider, who said, “It’s performing OK, but it’s probably going to hit 100 million.” Which, for any other moviemaker, would be a goldmine. But we’d been used to huge successes. I was disappointed.

Peter Schneider: I think it was a hit, right? It just wasn’t the same. As they say in the theater, you don’t set out to make a failure.

Don Hahn: If you’re the New York Yankees, and you’ve had a winning season where you could not lose, and then people hit standup singles instead of home runs…that’s OK. But it has this aura of disappointment. That’s the feeling that’s awful to have, because it’s selfish. Animation is an art, and the arts are meant to be without a price tag hanging off of them all the time.

Paul Brizzi: We are still grateful to Kirk and Gary and Don. We worked on [Hunchback] for maybe a year or a year and a half. Every sequence, we did with passion.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Our work on Hunchback was a triumph of our career.

Kathy Zielinski: There are certainly a whole crowd of people who wish we had not [done] the comedy, because that wasn’t faithful. That’s the main complaint I heard – we should’ve gone for this total dramatic piece and not worried about the kiddies.

Gaetan Brizzi: The only concern we had was the lack of homogeneity. The drama was really strong, and the [comedy] was sometimes a little bit goofy. It was a paradox. When you go from “Hellfire” to a big joke, the transition was not working well. Otherwise, we were very proud.

James Baxter: We were happy with what we did, but we understood it was going to be a slightly harder sell. The Hunchback of Notre Dame usually doesn’t engender connotations like, “Oh, that’s going to be a Disney classic.” I was very happy that it did as well as it did.

Jason Alexander: I thought it was even more mature and emotional on screen. It was an exciting maturation of what a Disney animated feature could be. I was impressed and touched.

“An Undersung Hero”

25 years later, The Hunchback of Notre Dame endures. The animated film inspired an even darker stage show that played both domestically and overseas, and in recent years, there have been rumors that Josh Gad would star as Quasimodo in a live-action remake.

Alan Menken: I think it’s a project that with every passing year will more and more become recognized as a really important part of my career.

Stephen Schwartz: This will be immodest, but I think it’s a really fine adaptation. I think it’s the best musical adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, and there have been a lot. I think the music is just unbelievably good. I think, as a lyricist, I was working at pretty much the top of my form. I have so many people telling me it’s their favorite Disney film.

Alan Menken: During the pandemic, there was this hundred-piece choir doing “The Bells of Notre Dame.” People are picking up on it. It’s the combination of the storytelling and how well the score is constructed that gets it to longevity. If something is good enough, it gets found.

Paul Kandel: I think people were more sensitive. There was an expectation that a new Disney animated film would not push boundaries at all, which it did. For critics, it pushed a little too hard and I don’t think they would think that now. It’s a work of art.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Hunchback is poetic, because of its dark romanticism. We have tons of animated movies, but I think they all look alike because of the computer technique. This movie is very important in making people understand that hate has no place in our society, between a culture or people or a country. That’s the message of the movie, and of Victor Hugo himself.

Jason Alexander: I think it’s an undersung hero. It’s one of the most beautiful and moving animated films. But it is not the title that lives on everyone’s tongue. I think more people haven’t seen this one than any of the others. I adore it.

Peter Schneider: What Disney did around this period [is] we stopped making musicals. I think that was probably a mistake on some level, but the animators were bored with it.

Don Hahn: You know people reacted to Beauty and the Beast or The Lion King. They were successful movies in their day. You don’t know the reaction to anything else. So when [I] go to Comic-Con or do press on other movies, people started talking about Hunchback. “My favorite Alan Menken score is Hunchback.” It’s always surprising and delightful.

Kirk Wise: I’ve had so many people come up to me and say, “This is my absolute favorite movie. I adored this movie as a kid. I wore out my VHS.” That makes all the difference in the world.

Paul Kandel: Sitting on my desk right now are four long letters and requests for autographs. I get 20 of those a week. People are still seeing that film and being moved by it.

Alan Menken: Now there’s a discussion about a live-action film with Hunchback. And that’s [sighs] exciting and problematic. We have to, once again, wade into the troubled waters of “What is Disney’s movie version of Hunchback?” Especially now.

Jason Alexander: Live action could work because the vast majority of characters are human. The story of an actual human who is in some ways less abled and who is defined by how he looks, rather than his heart and character, is timely and important, to say the least.

Kirk Wise: I imagine if there were a live-action adaptation, it would skew more towards the stage version. That’s just my guess.

Stephen Schwartz: I think it would lend itself extremely well to a live-action movie, particularly if they use the stage show as the basis. I think the stage show is fantastic.

Kirk Wise: It’s gratifying to be involved in movies like Beauty and the Beast and Hunchback that have created so much affection. But animation is as legitimate a form of storytelling as live-action is. It might be different, but I don’t think it’s better. I feel like [saying], “Just put on the old one. It’s still good!”

Gary Trousdale: There were enough versions before. Somebody wants to make another version? Okay. Most people can tell the difference between the animated version and a live-action reboot. Mostly I’m not a fan of those. But if that’s what Disney wants to do, great.

Don Hahn: It’s very visual. It’s got huge potential because of its setting and the drama, and the music. It’s pretty powerful, so it makes sense to remake that movie. I think we will someday.

Brenda Chapman: It’s a history lesson. Now that Notre Dame is in such dire straits, after having burned so badly, hopefully [this] will increase interest in all that history.

James Baxter: It meant two children. I met my wife on that movie. [laughs] In a wider sense, the legacy is another step of broadening the scope of what Disney feature animation could be.

Kirk Wise: Hunchback is the movie where the final product turned out closest to the original vision. There was such terrific passion by the crew that carried throughout the process.

Roy Conli: It’s one of the most beautiful films we’ve made. 25 years later, I’d say “Join the party.” [laughs]

#long post behind read more #the hunchback of notre dame #hunchback of notre dame #notre dame de paris #victor hugo #interviews #disney #alan menken #stephen schwartz #quasimodo #esmeralda #frollo #phoebus #movies #movie history

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lostonehero · 3 years

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Hey everyone its almost Passover and as a Jewish woman I need to make somethinhs clear in this fandom

To artist and writers

Janus is part snake be careful how you draw him and how you portray him in your writings the whole him being a villain is another can of worms which i do not have the patience to explain why that is iffy to me

*note i do not hate Janus i love the character so much but I have seen concerning trends

Now the big one the one I have the most issues with

Remus

I cannot tell you how many different fan arts that make him look like a sterotype with the sharp nose and the mustache while they drow his twin brother Roman soft like a Disney prince

They are twins and sure you don't have to make them identical but literally do not make him a stereotype villain that is just a yknow kind of looks like antisemitic

Look I'm not an expert but I was born and raised jewish hell I have no Christian reference for my family but I know enough to see the antisemitic things that still exist and are still at large

Look if you want to ask questions to me about this go ahead

I have strong feeling about this ok

#janus sanders #sander sides #thomas sanders #ts sides remus #remus sanders #ts criticism #criticism

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Text

Of potions and myths - Chapter 5

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,1k

Warnings: Some insecurities, some angst, a lot of talking, mention of child abandonment

A/N: It’s decision making time!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

The man leaves the living room after he’s given you the news, promising to return once you have had time to talk. He stresses that you don’t need to make the decision now, but the sooner you come to the conclusion, the sooner preparations can be made.

You sit next to Will when you are finally alone. The air is heavy and suffocating around you as you turn the words spoken to you in your mind. A lifetime of heartbreak or a lifetime with someone you barely know but are inexplicably drawn to?

“It’s your decision.”

Will’s words, spoken again in a flat tone, cuts through the haze and you whip your head up to gape at him. He remains as he is, shoulders set and his whole body tight, eyes set forward and his mouth in a grim line. He looks like a soldier headed for war, his feelings and thoughts hidden behind an iron wall and it makes you ache for him. You draw strength from inside of yourself and grasp his hand into yours.

“Our decision. This needs to come from us both, not just one of us. It’s both our souls, both our lives and both of us here, together.” You emphasize but don’t look at him as you speak, instead focusing on his hands and fingers, tracing them with your own. The pads of your fingers discover callouses, smooth spots and rough skin as you watch the tendrils appear, complimenting his skin tone and bathing it in golden and silver light.

You want to explore all his skin this way, you realize. Spend hours upon hours just mapping it all out, discover all his wounds and kiss them better. Trace the scars and heal as many as you can, if only through kisses and caresses. All his sweet spots and points that make him tick. But to get there you’ll need to agree on this.

“Sweetheart, if our views don’t match, I can never ask you to change your mind. So in the end, it is your decision.” He tries to be gentle, tries to not influence you, but it only makes you more agitated.

“So you decide that for the both of us? You don’t even want to talk about it, just resign yourself to whatever fate I choose? How is that fair?” You can’t help it, your voice raises as anger bleeds into it. You drop his hand abruptly and rise to your feet, forcing Will to look at you alarmed. You start to pace the living room, your arms flailing around you as you vent.

“If I choose the option you don’t want, it’s going to cause so much pain in either case. If you want this and I don’t, we’ll have to spend our lives looking over our shoulders so as not to see each other again and you’ll hate me because I have forced us into it. If I want this and you don’t, I will force you to be bound into me and it will cause so much heartbreak and it’s not fair. You’ll hate me and I don’t want that.”

Your voice dwindles as does your anger, just as quickly as it rose. There’s no use in being angry, you just need to figure out how to move forward now. You stop your movements and sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to gather your thoughts and leave all your confused emotions out of the equation.

“There is so much I don’t understand…” You mumble to yourself. Why did he growl at the elder, but not at Ben? What do the colors mean? What does a werewolf bond even mean, will you turn into one? Will the bite hurt?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the rambling thoughts; those can be answered later, if needed. There is only one important question on the tip of your tongue, wanting to come out.

“If you had to make the choice, which option would you get?” You ask, focusing your eyes into the wall behind the loveseat where Will sits. The rigid body of the soldier stays completely still as he ponders his words and you wait for him to answer. The hum of the connection jumps with every breath you take, your chests rising and falling in sync.

“I would choose you.”

The words come out slow, calculated and in an undertone, but you hear them clear as day. You chance a look at his blue eyes, the iron wall still high up behind them, so you cannot discern anything from them so you are left guessing. You feel like you are spinning as they buzz in your ear. His conviction in his words sounds ludacris after only a day of knowing one another. But also so right at the same time.

“How do you know? Are you sure this isn’t just the connection talking?” You need to be sure.

“Maybe it’s my wolf, maybe it’s the connection, I don’t know.” Will offers, holding out his hand for you to take. A beat passes and he starts to withdraw his hand, defeated. Quickly you spring into action and grasp it tight. You share a small smile as skin touches skin, feeling better and more calm already. He pulls you next to him again, but this time he turns so that your knees touch on the small couch and he keeps holding your hand, ignoring the tendrils for now.

“But I do know this; when I’m with you, near you, I don’t want to leave. I want to be here with you, do all this with you. I don’t know if that’s love yet, but I do want to explore it and I want you to be mine. I felt it the second our eyes met at the pub.”

“Will, this is crazy! We’ve known each other for A DAY!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But I can’t help it and I don’t want to either. My wolf feels the same.” He takes your hand and places it on top of his heart. The thump-thump of his heart is rapid, so fast under your fingertips and you have the sudden urge to make it calm, soothe it out and make sure it doesn’t feel like this erratic ever again.

“Do you feel that? I feel this way as I’m close to you and I wouldn’t change this feeling for anything. You make me feel alive and it's why I don’t think you are nothing. To me, you are everything. My wolf agrees and that’s why he wants to reach for you, be with you. Because of all this, I will always choose you.”

He lifts your hand away from his chest and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly. His lips feel soft and plump against your knuckles and you let out a happy sigh. As he releases it, your hand twitches because you want it back where it was, against the warmth and affection you felt. You refuse to call it love yet, but deep down you know it’s only a matter of time.

You look at the man in front of you, taking in the beautiful eyes, the single second they flash into red and back to blue again. The lips you have felt on your own, the coarse hairs above them that tickles when he kisses you but causes shivers down your spine, and the sharpness of his nose, the regality it offers him.

You glance at his forehead and mussed up blond hair, aching to mess it up further before venturing lower, cataloging the strong jaw and cropped beard, remembering how it felt on your skin as he kissed you in your kitchen and in here. How you think it would feel when he kisses you lower.

You take in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and it looks delectable. You would love to kiss him there, nibble and lick and suck until he’s a puddle of goo under you.

You keep studying him, his words echoing in your mind as you try to come into a conclusion. As you do, you realize it was the only choice there ever really was. Your heart had been made up long before, your mind just needed to get there too.

He waits patiently for your answer, though Will feels his nerves ramp up. This is it, this will determine his fate and he has just laid out all his cards and his heart at your feet. As the ticking clock provides the only soundtrack, he takes a deep breath through his nose, willing whatever deity is out there that you won’t crush it.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… He counts the seconds ticking by, growing more nervous as the number grows higher and you remain silent. Just as Will is about to speak, crush his own heart, your words come out.

“Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s complete the bond and see where it takes us,” You say and Will cannot hold himself still any longer. He surges forward and claims your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all his happiness and his desire into it.

One of his hands grips the back of your head and neck, flattening his palm to keep you grounded to him and the other finds its place on your hip, kneading the flesh gently as he deepens the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You quickly lose the sense of place and time as he kisses you, the power in it devouring you completely as you surrender to it. His mustache tickles your upper lip as he molds your mouths together and your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping it where you can and scratching your nails across his scalp.

A deep rumble, a purr almost, leaves his chest as you hit a particularly good spot and he tugs you in closer, your legs slotting on either side of his legs when he pulls you into his lap.

Will is nearly fully gone now, his mind fully focused on pulling sweet moans from your lips as he abandons your lips in favor of nibbling you jaw and neck, trailing an inferno behind him as he moves up and down, aiming higher until he kisses the spot just behind your ear that makes you shake in his arms. With a low chuckle, he comes up for air, murmuring sweet nothings onto your lips.

“Will - gah, Will, we need to…” You tug on his hair, relishing the rumble that leaves his chest. As much as you wish to disappear into him and into this, the nagging feeling that you are in his brother's house keeps you somewhat coherent.

“We need to do what, sweetheart?” The man has a voice made of honey and sin as he traces your collarbones with his tongue. You really do want to throw caution to the wind and complete the bond here and now, on this small loveseat that barely fits you both. “Pope…” You manage to gasp out, his teeth grazing on your shoulder makes you nearly black out.

The single word seems to sober him up quickly and Will rips himself off your body, the red eyes wide and predatory as a reminder of just how far he had gone. “You’re right,” he pants, eyes tracking the saliva on your skin with hunger.

He can feel the desire to bite just under the surface and as he touches his teeth with his tongue, he feels them already changed a little, becoming more pointed and sharp. It takes him a second to pull himself back before he winks at you.

“Can’t have you thinking of other men while I have you on top of me.” The grin on his face is playful and wolfish. You match his grin and place your palm against his cheek, stroking it gently. He barely avoids nuzzling into it and purring, but only barely. It feels too good and his heart is elated that you want this as much as he does.

“I can assure you, he was not in my mind because what you were doing wasn’t enough.”

“Mhmmm, but I wasn’t doing a good enough job if you can still think.”

“Behave,” You tease him gently as you untangle yourself, rising up from the couch and he follows eagerly, his huge paw finding the sliver of skin that has appeared with your wonky shirt.

He traces his forefinger on it, teasing the waistband of your pants as he watches mesmerized the golden swirls that appear. He tries to follow one, but it seems to swirl away from him as others appear to mix in on the joyous dance.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

“We still need to talk with the elders on how to move forward. And I suspect your brothers are anxiously waiting just outside,” you nod towards the front door, something he hasn’t even realized was closed firmly. He agrees but not before pulling you tight into his chest as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent he’s already addicted to to ground himself.

“Let’s do this.” He finally releases you, but keeps you tucked in as you step outside the house together. Will’s eyes immediately hone in on brothers; Benny sitting on the porch swing, Frankie leaning over the railing and Santi with his back against the wall.

They all jump up when the door closes behind both of you and turn to face you. The two older men remain neutral but Will can see a grin trying to break its way free on Benny’s face as he looks at how close Will is keeping you. His little brother always did have a romantic streak in him.

“We are going to try and complete the bond,” he tells them bluntly, not wanting to hide anything from them. Benny lets out a small ‘whoop’ and barrels into him, making Will lose his hold on you as he hugs him tight. You step away discreetly, allowing them to have their moment as Frankie sides up with you.

“Are congratulations in order then?” The tall man mumbles as he settles into an easy stance, arms crossed loosely and feet planted wide. His tone is mild but you can sense the underlying curiosity and slight worry over this.

“Mhmm, we are going to try. We still don’t know all the details or even how hard it will be, so…” You let your voice die down, he’ll catch the drift you hope. He nods, keeping his eyes forward at the two brothers.

“We are brothers and a family, but those two are related by blood, so their bond runs a bit deeper. Benny is younger and Will’s always been the one he’s looked up to. Their mother, Mrs Miller, she - uuuuhhh - she left when the boys were young, I don’t think Benny was even three. Their father came to us and asked to join our pack, since their previous one kicked them out because of the sins of the mother.”

Frankie takes a small pause, warmth in his eyes as he looks at the two blond men together. “My grandfather, who was one of the elders then, was the one to welcome them in and we’ve been tight ever since. Santi, Pope, joined not soon after and we all trickled into the military and Delta one after the other as we grew up. It’s always been us and always will be us together.”

“So that’s why he didn’t growl at Benny,” You murmur, mostly to yourself. Frankie nods, having heard your words and goes on to explain that a wolf will growl and snap at anyone who they deem a threat to family and loved ones, ultimately attacking to protect if needed. Within a family though, touching and closeness is encouraged. That’s why they are so physical with one another, he tells you. Actually, having the pack scent mark you at some point might be beneficial, the older man muses.

All this pack business thrusted against your brain produces a lot of good images and fantasies that your mind is spinning. It feels a little too much too fast, so you steer the conversation back into safer ground by looking fondly at Will nudging Benny on the shoulder in a playful manner.

“He's very lucky to have all of you.”

“We are lucky to have him. And all their family in fact, a lot of Millers joined our pack after them and expanded it. Hence why it’s called Miller-Morales pack now, even if it was originally just Morales pack. There are other families also, like the Garcia’s,” Frankie nods towards Pope, who has now joined his two brothers on the porch and the men are talking amongst themselves.

“The name is because we are the two biggest families around and Morales being the founding family, but the duties and responsibilities are divided equally among everyone. Each family chooses an elder and all elders form the council to guarantee fairness and voice for all.” You did wonder about that and it makes so much sense as Frankie explains it all. It also gives you a sense of just how big the pack is, since there are six elders.

He startles you then by grasping your arm into his warm one for a second. He looks you deep in the eyes, keeping the connection as he speaks. “He might not say it, but I can already tell that this bond means everything to Will. He’s been through a lot, too much in fact, and we all want only the best for him. The man deserves nothing more than happiness. I hope you realize that.”

“I do.” You whisper softly, your heart beating harder in your chest at Frankie’s confession and slight challenge. It makes you grin that they are looking out for Will and while you didn’t expect to have the talk with one of his brothers, having Frankie do it makes perfect sense. With a soft smile, the man tips his ball cap in your direction and steps to slap Will in the back softly, joining the conversation.

You take the moment of silence and begin thumping through your phone, adding things into your notes so you can keep track of the questions still swirling in your mind. You need to get to your workstation, you decide, after the list grows in length. Who knows how long it will take the elders to gather all the needed information? And you can’t just sit tight and wait, you decide, your inner researcher excited about the prospect of digging into a mystery.

“Will?” You hate to interrupt the boys talking animatedly with one another, but you know you have to. “How good are you with books?”

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess @luxmundee @innerpaperexpertcloud

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi

#william miller #will ironhead miller #will miller #will miller x f!reader #cw: mythical creatures #cw: werewolves #cw: dash of angst #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier #friple frontier fanfiction #my writing #charlie hunnam fanfiction

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k-llama-llama · 3 years

Text

Carried Through

Twice AU: 10th member

Jaewoo x Twice

The girls have to take care of Jaewoo when he’s sick at the airport

A/N: check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I’m going to be honest, Jae, you aren’t looking too hot.” Jihyo stared at him.

He tried to look up at her, but didn’t manage to get higher than her jeans and the row of airport chairs before his vision swam. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious, Jae.” She moved off of her seat, kneeling in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“I told you I didn’t feel good.”

That was an understatement. They’d left the apartment at six in the morning to get to the airport in time for their flight. Jaewoo had gone to bed early the night before, complaining about feeling nauseous. He’d woken up the next morning without feeling any better, and with the added issue of a pounding headache.

Nayeon had packed the last of his bags for him, and he’d stumbled out the door and through the airport. But now, as they waited to board their flight, he was struck with an incapacitating dizziness that was making it impossible for him to keep his head up for more than a few seconds.

“Are you going to be okay on the flight?” Jihyo pushed his hair out of his face, feeling his clammy forehead. “You really don’t look good.”

“I know.” He groaned, trying to breathe through another wave of dizziness. “I think I’m probably going to die.”

“You aren’t going to die.” Jihyo promised. “But are you going to be okay on this flight? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

He shook his head, and then immediately regretted it. “No. Just like I’m going to drop at any second.”

Jihyo clicked her tongue, obviously trying to weigh their options. There weren’t really any. They had to fly to Thailand and they had a concert tomorrow that they couldn’t miss. Whatever bug he hadn’t wasn’t going to stop them.

“Oppa?” Tzuyu settled herself into the seat next to him. “Are you feeling any better?”

He couldn’t find the energy to respond, but heard Jihyo answer for him. Someone was rubbing his back, the only thing he was clearly aware of when the world started to spin again.

“I brought you some water and rice crackers.” Tzuyu said quietly. “Do you want to try them?”

He thought about it. He hadn’t eaten anything since dinner last night, and even that had only been a little bit of rice and a piece of chicken. There was a good chance that something in his stomach might help, but there was just as good of a chance that that would make him throw up.

“Who am I sitting with on the plane?” He asked, resting his forehead on his knees.

“Me, I think.” Tzuyu told him. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to throw up on you.”

With great effort, he sat up, leaning his head back against the chair. His vision swam, but if he stayed still it was tolerable.

“Which of us are you willing to throw up on?” Jihyo appeared in his line of vision.

He forced a smile. “Chae, probably. Maybe Jeongyeon.”

“I heard that.” Someone poked him in the shoulder. He didn’t bother turning to see as Chaeyoung placed her bucket hat on his head. “To hide how gross you are.”

“I don’t think it’s going to help.” He admitted. He was already dreading the pictures that the fan sites got as they were entering the airport, and he wouldn’t be home free until they reached their hotel in Thailand.

Another wave of dizziness hit, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Should we take him to a doctor?” Tzuyu whispered, obviously trying not to disturb him.

“It’s a stomach bug.” Chaeyoung countered. “They’re not going to be able to do anything.”

“But he can’t fly like this.” Tzuyu argued.

“She’s got a point, Chae.” Jihyo said quietly. “Someone is going to have to carry him through the airport. And what if something happens on the flight?”

“What would happen?” Tzuyu sounded worried.

Jaewoo forced himself to sit up straighter. He didn’t want them fussing over him, and he didn’t want to miss the flight or cause problems in their schedule. He was going to get up, he was going to walk through the airport and then die quietly on the flight.

“Give me some of those crackers, Tzu.” He held out a hand.

Tzuyu ripped open the bag enthusiastically, removing a cracker, breaking it in half, and then handing it to him. He chewed slowly. Every movement caused his head to spin a little bit more, but the cracker was bland enough that it didn’t immediately make him want to be sick.

“Do you have any water?” He swallowed, the cracker scraping against his throat, which he suddenly realized was very dry.

“Here.” Tzuyu opened a bottle of water, passing it to him. His hands shook as he lifted it to his mouth, but he managed to swallow a sip without spilling.

“Guys, we’re boarding.” Jeongyeon walked over. “Do you need a staff member to-“

She trailed off, but it was clear that the next words were carry Jaewoo.

“I can walk.” Jaewoo forced himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure if the world was spinning or if he was swaying.

Jihyo answered his question with a hand on his elbow. “Are you going to faint?”

“Nope.” He tried to sound certain. “If you can just give me a shove in the right direction and I will stumble my way onto the plane.”

“I’ll walk you.” Jihyo wrapped his arm around her, letting him lean on her without it being too obvious that he was close to dropping.

“My bag.” He mumbled, trying to turn around.

“I got it, just keep walking.” Chaeyoung stopped to pull his mask up over his nose.

Jaewoo tuned out as he was dragged towards their terminal. He tried not to think about what everyone else was seeing. He was almost a full foot taller than Jihyo, but he was hunched over and barely managing to move one foot in front of the other.

This was a first for him. He’d never had worse than the sniffles on a travel day. Usually he was the one helping the girls through the airport. There had been a few months when Jihyo’s leg was messed up when he’d literally piggy-backed her everywhere, including onto airplanes. So he really didn’t enjoy feeling so miserable, with no idea of his surroundings. He trusted them, of course, but it still made him feel uneasy. If it was even possible to feel anything other than dizzy right now.

He was completely numb as Chaeyoung flashed his passport and ticket for him, and then they were onto the plain. Jihyo dropped him into his seat with a huff, and his head smacked against the back.

“Are you trying to give him a concussion?” Jeongyeon leaned over from behind him, poking his shoulder to make sure he was still awake.

“He’s heavy.” Jihyo complained, sitting next to Jeongyeon. “Sorry, Jae.”

“S’okay.” He mumbled. He was thankful they were in business class, because it meant he had a bit more room, a more comfortable chair, and only one person next to him.

Tzuyu finished stowing his bag and sat down next to him. “Oppa? Do you want another cracker?”

“Not now, Tzu.” It came out a little harsher than he wanted. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t feel good.” She spread a blanket over his lap, and took his phone out of his hoodie pocket. “Do you want to listen to music, or do you want to plug into the movie I’m going to watch?”

The choice was clear: you were mean to me, so now you have to watch a movie with me.

“I’ll watch the movie.” He flopped his head to one side, holding out a hand for the earbud. They hadn’t even taken off yet, but he was settling in for a long, miserable flight.

“I hate being sick.” He said quietly, turning his face into the seat cushion.

“At least you’re stuck with me and not Chaeyoung.” Tzuyu smiled. “She’d probably draw a mustache on you.”

“Promise you won’t let her and you’ll be my favourite person ever.” He grabbed her hand in his, squeezing it with a pitiful display of strength.

She patted his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. And maybe you’ll feel better after we’ve watched Moana.”

“Why do we always have to watch Moana?”

“Because it’s my choice. So shut up and feel better.”

#twice #twice au #twice imagine #twice imagines #twice 10th member #kpop #au #imagine #imagines #kpop au #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #requests open

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ttuesday · 3 years

Text

making it up to you

this is based on the anon I got a few weeks ago for some sub Micah <3

Summary: after you break Micah out of jail in Strawberry, he brings you back to his camp to make it up to you *wink wink*

Word Count: approx. 2,100

(NSFW)

It was a disaster. As you hightailed it out of Strawberry on your horse, you cursed yourself. Dutch had given you a simple task, rescue Micah. That was it. The mission wasn’t to shoot up half the town just cause someone took his precious guns. You knew when Dutch hears about what happened, he won’t be happy. Hell, you weren’t happy either, you were furious.

Micah rode ahead of you, leading you through the trees and to a secluded camp he had set up before he was thrown in jail. The camp was small, with the remains of a campfire, a single bedroll and an old wooden chair that looked as though it had been there for years.

“You still mad at me?” huffed Micah, dismounting Baylock

“You just killed half the goddamn town!” you exclaimed, not bothering to get off your horse “and for what, a pair of revolvers? Is that all you care about? Some old, worthless guns?”.

“You best watch that mouth of yours” Micah growled as he prodded his new black eye.

“Or what?” you snapped back “You gonna shoot me too?”.

“Don’t tempt me” he muttered.

“I’m done with this” you said, getting ready to leave. You were too frustrated to be around him and decided that going back to the main camp would be better.

“Good luck with that,” Micah chuckled lowly “they’ll be patrols out on all the roads by now, you won’t be able to pass without them recognizing you”.

You hated that he was right. After hesitating for a moment, you reluctantly dismounted and walked over to the chair. You’d be a fool if you left now. If you did, then Dutch would probably have to send Arthur to break you out of jail next.

You sat down on the chair and crossed your arms, prepared to give Micah the silent treatment. Just because you had to stay didn’t mean you had to forgive him for the mess he made.

As the evening dragged on, Micah tried to speak to you a few times but you didn’t respond. “C’mon, how’s about you come play doctor and help me with this eye” he tried to coax you into talking to him. You ignored him.

Next he tried to rile you up, hoping that would get a reaction out of you. “Real mature of you,” he mocked “you still not talking to me?”. You didn’t reply.

Micah would never admit it openly but he cared about you, and this silent treatment was getting under his skin. To distract himself from the worry that he had messed things up with you, he lit the campfire.

You were one of the only people that actually tolerated him. There had been some occasions where one thing led to another and suddenly yelling at one another turned into passionately undressing each other while keeping your lips on his. At first it was supposed to be a one time thing when you were both out on a job but then it happened again before Blackwater… and then again in Colter

…ok, maybe it happened a few times in Colter but it was the most efficient way of staying warm. Maybe that’s why Dutch sent you, maybe he knew you were more than friends.

Finally, Micah sighed and decided to try and say something genuine. “You know, I uh… I do… care about you… and maybe I did lose my cool in Strawberry… I guess” he struggled to get the words out. You stayed silent, waiting for him to say more.

Micah walked over to you, leaning down to rest his hand on your thigh, his face inches from yours “Won’t ya let me make it up to you?”. Your eyes flicked down his lips as Micah hesitantly leaned in for a kiss, half expecting you to push him away. When you didn’t, he deepened the kiss and moved his hand up your thigh and to your length, palming it the best he could through your pants.

The kiss became more eager, his lips smashing against yours. Your hand came up to hold his cheek, subconsciously making sure not to accidently put pressure by his black eye. You were still mad at Micah but it was nice to finally get some more alone time with him.

You broke the kiss and whispered against his lips “On your knees”. If Micah was going to make it up to you, you were going to be the one in charge and you weren’t about to let him off lightly. Micah was surprised by the authority in your voice but something that surprised him even more was how arousing he found it.

He obediently kneeled in front of you. As he got comfortable, you stood and undid your pants. Micah immediately reached for your cock as you took it out of your pants, his hot breath against your length making you more impatient by the second. You tenderly pushed his hair away from his face and held the back of his head. Micah opened his mouth wide and slowly licked a stripe up the underside of your cock. You knew he was going slow on purpose, trying to get you as flustered as possible. You rocked your hips forward, groaning as he started to suck around you.

Your grip on his hair tightened as you thrusted into his mouth. Micah gagged around your shaft as it hit the back of his throat. “Such a good slut for me” you said, pumping your cock in and out of his mouth. Micah’s brow creased, obviously not appreciating the comment.

You pushed his head down until your entire length was in his mouth, his nose pressing against your skin. You could see him struggle to breath, not used to you being so deep in his mouth. Micah closed his eyes as he focused, trying his hardest not to gag again. Slowly, you pulled out. He gasped, taking a couple deep breaths before looking up at you. He had a small smirk on his face as he took your cock again.

Micah tried to keep his jaw loose as you roughly fucked his mouth. You rammed your cock as far as you could, before quickly pulling out again. You quicken your pace, losing yourself in the moment. You loved seeing your length in his mouth, seeing how he gagged and his eyes watered. It was all too much but you didn’t want it to end.

You harshly tugged Micah’s hair, jerking his mouth away from your shaft. He stared up at you with wide eyes and spit smeared across the side of lips and on his horseshoe mustache. Oh, what a pretty sight. “Take off your pants” you ordered gruffly.

Micah did what he was told, quickly getting rid of his pants to expose his hard cock. He kept his shirt on which was barely kept closed by two flimsy buttons. You reached over to your satchel by the chair and grabbed your container of hair pomade. You didn’t have to tell Micah what to do next. As you threw your satchel over by the chair again, you watched as he got down on all fours, his ass facing you. You smirked, loving every second of this.

"Well you got into this position quickly" you teased, your hand on his ass cheek. Normally Micah was the one to tease you but on this rare occasion, you were the one in charge. Micah glanced over his shoulder to scowl at you, not used to being the one taunted. You leaned forward so that you spoke directly against the back of his ear "You know I'm not going to take it easy on you, Bell". You gave his ass cheek a harsh slap, smiling when a soft moan spilled from Micah’s lips.

You generously applied some hair pomade to Micah's hole before pressing a finger in. Micah lowered his head as you slipped your index finger in and out of him. You didn't waste time in adding another finger, curling and scissoring them as you did. A loud moan came from him as he began to rock his hips backwards, into your fingers. "Oh, you want more?" you growled into his ear.

He grunted in response but you wanted to hear him say it. "If you want something you're going to have to say it" you said, pulling your fingers out and resting your hand on his ass again. You roughly kissed his neck, leaving marks as you waited for him to say it. "I..." he trailed off "I-I want... I want you to fuck me". You smiled, leaning back to properly line yourself up with his hole "That's all you had to say".

You pushed your cock into his entrance, groaning as you did. Normally he was the one pushing into you, he was the one whispering filthy things into your ear but now you were in charge. "Fuck, you're so tight" you exhaled, giving him a second to adjust to your length inside of him. As you began to thrust into him, you gave him the praise you knew he needed. "That's it," you said, holding on to his hips "so good for me, fuck, you're so handsome like this".

You noticed Micah try and move one of his hands down to touch his leaking cock. You slammed your hips into him, stopping him from doing so. "Did I say you can touch yourself?" you questioned. He opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was a whimper. You couldn't help it as a smirk crept on to your face. You never thought you'd hear Micah whimper. You fucked him harder, your hips snapping back and forth.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked it, making Micah crane his neck back. He gasped, his face scrunched up in pleasure. "Christ, you make the prettiest noises" you muttered, letting go of his hair and moving your hand down to Micah's cock. You wrapped your hand around his throbbing cock, drawing another moan from the outlaw.

You slowed your pace but continued to thrust deep into him, the tip of your cock rubbing against his prostate. "You should fuck up more often" you said, running your thumb across his slit "I like seeing you like this, a moaning mess". Micah choked back another moan, his mouth slightly apart as he craved his release.

"Now you can touch yourself" you said, removing your hand from his cock. Micah took over and began jerking himself off as you focused on fucking him, chasing your own high. Micah came first, grunting as he did and you followed quickly behind him.

You took a few seconds to catch your breath before gently pulling out. "You alright?" you asked, shifting your weight to grab a few rags from your satchel. Micah huffed as he started to move, his joints stiff. You quickly cleaned yourself up, tucking yourself away before going to tend to Micah. You softly kissed his body as you cleaned him off, murmuring words of praise. Micah leaned into you, savouring your touch. You ran your fingers across his body, appreciating every inch.

"You did real good, taking me so well" you said, kissing his shoulder. He scoffed, acting as though he didn't need the compliment but the faint smile on his face told you otherwise. "How's your eye?" you asked, kissing the side of his neck.

"Fine," he mumbled "don't think it's infected".

"You wanna lie-down for a while?" you asked, subtly admiring the marks you had left along his neck.

He looked at you with hazy, content eyes "Yeah, I'd like that".

You led him over to the bedroll and settled down for the night. You held Micah, your hand slowly trailing up and down his back with a blanket enclosing the both of you. Micah nuzzled against your neck as he drifted off to sleep, drained from the long and eventful day.

You didn't fall asleep immediately. Instead you gazed up at the night's sky and smiled. Yes, Micah was a hard guy to get along with, everyone knew that. But there was something about him you couldn't shake. You knew when the gang hears about the mess he made in Strawberry there'd definitely be some arguing but that was a problem for tomorrow.

All you wanted to do now was enjoy the moment. Micah let out a small snore. You lowered your gaze to look at him and lightly kissed the top of his head. As you dozed off, the smile on your face stayed as you held him a little tighter.

#y’all already know I ain’t a good writer but I couldn’t help myself😩#micah bell x m!reader #micah bell x you #smut smut smut #writings

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august-anon · 3 years

Text

Unrestrained Revenge

This was meant to be part of tickletober 2020 but i never finished it, so it became it's own fic instead lol. Promised y’all a full-length BNHA fic from the backlog after the last Witcher fic, so here this is! Hope you enjoy!

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Aizawa Shouta/Switch!Yamada Hizashi

Word Count: 1870 words

Summary: Hizashi decides to take advantage of Shouta getting a little tangled up in his capture weapon. Shouta, of course, can't let that go without revenge.

[ao3 link]

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Shouta, in his opinion, worked far too much (which probably meant Hizashi, what with his three jobs, was working an alarming amount, but that was besides the point). He spent eight hours a day in a classroom, and several hours after that grading. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he worked patrols all night as if he didn’t have to be back in the classroom most mornings.

So screw him if he wound up walking around most days in a half-asleep haze.

It became increasingly apparent one afternoon after he and Hizashi had gotten home from their day jobs at the school, for once neither of them being required to head to their second (or even third, in Hizashi’s case) job of the day. Hizashi went to feed the cats while Shouta headed toward the bedroom, looking to change into something more pajama-adjacent.

Only, the problem with being half-asleep most of the time was that you could wind up being rather clumsy. Which was how Shouta found himself in his current predicament: being tied up in his own damn capture weapon. When his struggles only wound up tightening the scarf around him, Shouta gave into the mortification of getting stuck and called for help.

“Hizashi?” He ground out. “I could use some help.”

He heard Hizashi’s footsteps draw near the bedroom and braced himself for the teasing.

“Babe? What is i--” the door opened, and Shouta cringed. Hizashi started laughing. “Shou--babe, how did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Hizashi continued laughing as he circled around him, and Shouta couldn’t tell if he was trying to decide where to start or if he was just trying to find the funniest angle to look at him from.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten tangled up this bad since high school.”

Shouta jerked in his tangled bindings and growled. “Will you just help me?”

“Alright, alright, chill out Sho-chan! We can fix this.”

Shouta slumped a little as Hizashi approached and started tugging at random segments of his capture weapon, trying to find a way to start untangling him. He huffed when it didn’t seem to do anything except make the parts that were still loose, tighter.

“You really got yourself stuck, didn’t you…?” Hizashi murmured.

Shouta rolled his eyes. “Get on with it.”

Hizashi pinched his bottom rib. “Behave and I-- What was that?”

Shouta, who had jumped and quietly yelped, quickly cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

A sly grin began to grow on Hizashi’s face. “Shouta,” he sang, raising his hands shaped into claws. “Are you lying to me, my love?”

Shouta stumbled back a few steps. “No.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can lie to me, babe? After all this time we’ve known each other?”

“Hizashi, don’t you da--”

Shouta cut himself off with a yelp as he stumbled over his own feet and landed on their bed. Hizashi cackled and bounced up onto the mattress after him, clawed hands still hovering tauntingly between them. Shouta struggled harder in his self-made bonds as Hizashi started wiggling his fingers.

“Hizashi--”

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish, my own fiance!”

“Hizashi--”

“I think it’s very wise of me to do this when you can’t fight back,” Hizashi nodded sagely. “You are far too good at hand-to-hand.”

Before Shouta could reply with a quip about how Hizashi relied on his quirk too much, Hizashi’s hands were back on his ribs. Shouta swallowed another yelp and pursed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut. Luckily, his ribs weren’t a bad spot, and the gentle pinches Hizashi was subjecting him to were easy enough to resist.

“Aw, come on, baby,” Hizashi tried to goad him, moving down to wiggle his fingers into Shouta’s sides where the scarf wasn’t covering him. “Just laugh! You’ll feel better!”

“You wish,” Shouta ground out.

“You’re right, I do wish. That’s why you should do it.”

Shouta locked his jaw and squirmed around as much as he could, but he couldn’t exactly get much leverage when he was wrapped up in his own capture weapon. Dammit, he should’ve been paying better attention to what he was doing.

It wasn’t like he necessarily minded being tickled, certainly not, and he always enjoyed having Hizahi’s hands all over him. It was just so… embarrassing. His face flushed and his grin was silly and his laugh was weird. Plus, he preferred being restrained on his own terms, rather than getting stuck due to his own clumsiness.

“Sho, if you just give me a giggle or three, this will all be over so much faster,” Hizashi teased, squeezing his hips and making Shouta grunt.

“Fuck you,” Shouta bit out.

Hizashi winked down at him. “Maybe later, Sho-chan.”

Shouta felt his heart stop when Hizashi’s grinned widened, eyes getting a mischievous glint to them. He tried to shuffle his body further up the bed, but Hizashi simply grabbed a loop of capture weapon to keep him from moving away.

“Good thing I know all your tricks,” he said with another wink. “I’ll have you giggling in no time.”

Hizashi then leaned down, pressing little pecks of kisses to his cheeks, jaw, and ears. Unfortunately, Hizashi was right: this action did almost always end with him giggling. The soft, playful affection was certainly one of Shouta’s secret weaknesses, but the thing Shouta hadn’t admitted to Hizashi about this little action was just how much Hizashi’s mustache tickled. Even with his lips pursed and his face scrunched up, the giggles bubbling up in Shouta’s chest began shaking his whole body, escaping from his nose.

“Here they come,” Hizashi sang into his ear.

Hizashi’s hand scratched down the top of his thigh as he pressed a ticklish kiss just underneath Shouta’s jaw. Shouta gasped, and his laughter escaped before he could stop it. He wished he had his hands free to hide his face. God this was so embarrassing.

Especially with Hizashi gazing at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. It only made his face burn more.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” Hizashi said.

Shouta didn’t even bother responding through his giggles. He simply rolled over to bury his burning face into the duvet. Unfortunately, that just opened up a whole new expanse of ticklish skin for Hizashi to exploit. He dug his fingers underneath and in-between loops of his capture scarf, somehow managing to pinpoint all the most sensitive places on Shouta’s back, making him cackle and kick his legs out.

“Hizashi, please!”

Hizashi chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He rolled Shouta over again, grinning down at him. “Let’s get you untangled, then.”

It took an absurd amount of time for Hizashi to get Shouta untied. It certainly didn’t help that Hizashi kept sneaking little tickles here and there, making Shouta squirm, which only tightened his bonds further. When Shouta was finally free, he tossed his scarf across the room with a scowl, making Hizashi fall back against the bed in laughter.

“Oh yeah?” Shouta growled, sweeping a hand through the hair in his face and holding it out of the way. “You think that’s funny? You like to laugh?”

“Oh, lighten up, baby. You and I both know you didn’t hate that.”

Shouta ignored the flush he felt rising into his cheeks once more.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said.

Hizashi’s eyes went wide and he started to sit up, but Shouta launched himself at him before Hizashi could escape. He pinned Hizashi down against the mattress, suddenly wishing he hadn’t thrown his capture weapon aside in his tantrum, and swiftly settled over his hips, pressing Hizashi’s hands into the mattress above his head. Hizashi squirmed around underneath him, already bubbling with nervous giggles.

“Sho--Shouta, come on, babe--”

Shouta cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know, ‘Zashi. You seemed pretty keen on taking advantage of my situation.”

“Baby, please--” Hizashi yelped, trying to free his hands.

But Shouta could hear the giddy undertone to his voice. Hizashi hated this just as much as Shouta did, which was to say, he didn’t hate it one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact Even if they’d played like this less and less over the years, to the point of them stopping entirely for a brief time, the game remained the same, and fake, weak protests had always been a part of it.

“The difference between you and me, babe,” Shouta said, giving Hizashi one of his terrifying grins, “is that I never forgot that you were ticklish.”

Which meant that Shouta knew exactly where to target to get Hizashi howling.

And Hizashi clearly realized that too, because he gasped and tucked his red face into the crook of his elbow. Shouta was tempted to call him out on it, to remove the ways to hide his face since Shouta hadn’t been able to hide his, but he decided to have mercy and simply dive in.

See, what Hizashi had so foolishly forgotten was that the two of them shared a weak point. Shouta and Hizashi both had horribly ticklish necks, both easily ranked as one of their worst spots. Hizashi didn’t do much to protect his neck, but Shouta’s ticklishness was certainly one of the reasons he kept his hair so long and wore his capture weapon everywhere: it was much wiser to hide the sensitive spot away than to let his friends have access to it.

And so Shouta kept Hizashi’s hands pinned to the bed, leaning down to bury his face in Hizashi’s neck. A squeal (thankfully not quirk-powered) ripped from Hizashi’s lips as Shouta gently scraped his stubble against Hizashi’s throat, and the sound only got louder and more high-pitched when Shouta brought his lips and teeth into the equation.

There were small bursts of laughter here and there, but it seemed like Hizashi was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he couldn’t do much more than shriek and squeal and yell out wordlessly. In Shouta’s opinion, it was fucking adorable.

“Had enough yet?” Shouta teased, carefully keeping his voice monotone to set Hizashi on edge.

He didn’t even bother waiting for an answer before pressing his lips to a weak point under Hizashi’s jaw and blowing a loud raspberry. Hizashi’s laughter (or, more accurately, screaming) went silent at that, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

As the sensation faded, Hizashi gasped and called out, “Enough!”

Shouta backed off instantly, freeing Hizashi’s hands but not climbing off his hips just yet.

“Your endurance is down,” Shouta said.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was bright and happy. “Yeah, yeah.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous. “You know what I’m in the mood for right about now?”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “A nap, hopefully.”

Hizashi’s laughter rang out through the apartment once more as he pulled Shouta back down onto the mattress with him. He pressed a lingering kiss to Shouta’s lips before squirming out of his arms and worming his way under their mound of blankets.

“A nap sounds great, Sho-chan.”

Shouta snorted. “It fucking better, after all that,” he replied, and climbed under the blankets himself.

And for once, the two of them slept peacefully, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

#tickle fic #My writing #bnha tickling #lee!aizawa shouta #ticklish!aizawa shouta #ler!yamada hizashi #lee!yamada hizashi #ler!aizawa shouta #ticklish!yamada hizashi #bnha #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #erasermic

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