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chubbology · 3 years

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Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

#weight gain #fic #askbox prompts #genderless #reader feeder #nonbinary gainer

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asterekmess · 3 years

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Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

#personal #anti-Scott McCall #meta ramblings #go for it #this is way too long #but i had feelings #the more you guys made me talk about this #the more I want to write a Buffy fusion #or a tw rewrite with Scott not being bitten #or fucking Both #or both Combined #SOMETHING

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lilsuzn · 3 years

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MLQC Victor - NSFW abc headcanons (REMASTERED)

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Warnings: Explit sexual content (GN READER)

it's what I posted a while ago, but better - I changed some things, I deleted some thing and wrote new. I think it's much better now

A = Aftercare (What they are after sex?)

Victor is a man that has his values straight

You are the most important part of his life (even if he sometimes struggles to shop it) and he will do anything for you… and only for you

Other people don’t matter. He only takes what he wants and leaves.

But you - his sweetest, dearest, little love… can ask anything and everything (well, almost - see N).

You crave massages? He will buy the most luxurious oils on the market, might even take a course to perfect his skills to give you more pleasure

Want to take a bath? He will have a bathtub installed if he doesn’t have one already

Pillowtalk, kissing, snuggling, another round? No need to say it twice. He leaves to please you

When it comes to him, he likes to pull you close and tell you all the things he has no courage to say at any other time

Leave no space for misunderstanding in the department of his unconditional, boundless, eternal love and devotion for you

Tell you just how happy he is to have you and how everything is worthless in comparison to you

After he makes sure you’ve been pleasured throughly already, he will want to share a shower

And make no mistake - he will wash you. You can wash him too, if you want, but taking care of that pretty body of yours is his responsibility

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part is his waist

It wasn’t easy to get that V shaped body and he is extremely proud of this accomplishment…

Especially when he sees your hungry gaze roaming his torso up and down

And you… He couldn’t possibly choose one part

Beautiful legs, rounded butt, soft abdomen and that gorgeous, gorgeous smile

Yeah…

No…

That would be your thighs when it comes to the sexual aspect

You have such a delicate skin there. So suckable. Kissable. More plush than any pillow could ever be

He feels so secure and at ease when they squeeze around his head as you ride his face.

The sound of his hips slapping against them - heavenly

Not much can make him calmer than your lovely, plump thighs

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

It should come (hihihi) as no surprise that he loves to spill inside

It’s so intimate… Bonding…

Doesn’t really like to cum onto you for reasons he himself doesn’t really understand

It just feels… somewhat degrading? And he doesn’t like it that way?

Then again cuming into your mouth is a strong YES. Maybe it’s because of how enthusiastically you take him in

How you collect all the spill from your chin and lick it off your fingers like it was some kind of delicious delicacy

That sight makes him hard all over again…

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory - a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a folder of your photos on his computer

Some of them were taken with consent… Some without you realising…

Because you were in his bed sleeping in your naked glory… And he could only stop himself the first, like 20 (?) times

He sorts them by aesthetic and cuteness/sexiness

Jacks off to them when you’re not around

Most of them are very artistic. He tries his best to make them as good as the ones he was using before you… (see J)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He slept with a few girls in college, but he saw it only as ‘taking care of his sexual needs’ - no real feelings included

He had one dedicated booty call - a girl who fell in love with him despite him saying that he only only sees her for sex

That period really allowed him to explore his sexuality

So he knows what he likes and what to do, so his partner likes it too

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Everything when he takes you from the back

He’s rather keen on yanking hair, slaping ass…

But when it comes to the person he loves - you, he likes to face each other during sex

He wants to kiss your face, neck and chest. Nuzzle his face into your abdomen while he’s going down from his height

Your legs thrown over his shoulders so he can slap his hips against your soft thighs

Or legs pressed to your sides, hands gripping your thighs

And he can’t even attempt to lie he doesn’t absolutely love when you sit on his lap… or get on top in general

Or when your thighs grip his head when you 69 on the couch while ‘watching’ a movie. Your lips sloppy around him as his tongue pleasures you with most precision and dedication

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

No goofy.

If they start to joke around, they get spanked. HARD.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Victor is a passionate swimmer, so most of his body is hairless

But he doesn’t shave his pubes. Finds it weird to be completely bare down there and the first time he had sex with a completly hairless girl, he was a bit taken aback with her baby like smoothness.

Only trims them with a ‘pubes razor’ which is his old razor that he doesn’t use for face anymore, because he got a better one from his aunt for Christmas

Carpet matches the drapes

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

No goofy.

Only love and eternal devotion.

He will caress and leave kisses all over your body. Keep you close in the warmest and most loving embrace

No dummies or idiots in bed. Only treasures and loves

Almost like he’s trying to make it up to you for his tendency to be so aloof on a daily basis

The sweet talk doesn’t stop there, but I already said everything about it in A

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

This man didn’t have time to waste on women when he was building his empire, so he naturally spend quite a lot of his life masturbating instead of having sex

He doesn’t really enjoy porn, though. It’s too cartoonish for him. He much prefers to look through lingerie commercials or nude photoshoots - the more artistic the better

After he reunites with you, he starts to feel all that pent up sex tension and starts to jack off almost every day

Thinking about you. Looking at photos of you. Carving you with every small bit of his being

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

First of all - seeing his partner being pleasured. Either by him or by a vibrating toy plugged into them or pressed against their sensitive spots. He doesn’t even pump himself watching. He’s way too consumed with the enticing sights

Double penetration. His huge dick in one whole, dildo in another… Just thinking about it gets him going

He can’t deny himself at least some manhandling (if you consent - obv). Although he doesn’t go full on dom every time (at least with you) he seems to be unable to deny himself some hair pulling and choking... Although he almost does it lovingly? Spanking and whipping will surely also happen from time to time. Can get very rough when jealous

Also a slight daddy kink. When he hears it slip past your lips in the form of a joke - he feels some strange tingling in his groin and it’s not a venereal disease

If you sit on his lap, make a cute, helpless expression and ask daddy to play with you… It just turns him into a primal animal with no self restraint

That he kinda always seems to be

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Where nobody can hear them

Or see them

Anywhere with a stable surface really, but he needs to know you will have full privacy

Would never agree for public sex

All the sweet sounds and expressions he makes you do are his and only his to experience

M = Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

Stress, irritation, anger, hurt… Sex is a great way for him to gat this weight of his chest since he doesn’t really like to think those negative feeligs through

Or any feelings, if we’re at it

A nice butt is also a motivation, especially when it’s attached to a fine pair of legs

But both of these factors aren’t a guarantee of a turn on and even if they have that impact on him, he still will most likely not act on it

What he really struggles to control is a real attraction that reaches what’s beyond physical

A beautiful, hardworking and open-minded person is something Victor finds hard to ignore

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

No sharing

No blood play

No permanent marking

Nothing too forcefull or aggressive

No sex before assigning boundaries and exchanging preferences

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As I already said In B, Victor is an oral lover

More into giving than receiving, but would never push his lover away

(you can always 69, right?)

The man is humming in pleasure as his tongue slides along your sex

Is more than willing to go for hours if only you let him

The more you moan the more intense his movements become

His main goal is to please

The secondary one is to be the best at yet another thing

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He has two base modes

One: I love you, my sweet creature - all about measured, unhurried but hard thrust. True, pure love-making

Two: Little girls don’t get a say in how daddy fucks them - you’re tearing up, sobbing, drooling and he gets even more turned on by it. Fucks harder and faster then you both believed possible. Years of engaging in sports come to show themselves

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He will participate when the occasion occurs

Might even initiate an occasion

But it’s not really sex for him. It’s a quickie

And when compared to the real love-making with you… it’s just meh

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

When it comes to taking risks, I believe I already made it clear that he isn’t too into that

If someone walked in you, it would be very upsetting for him

If you got accidentally hurt would break his heart

But experiment he would happily

New toys, new positions, new kinks… He will try anything once

Well, almost anything (see N)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

We all have our better and worst days, and this man has a whole company to run. It’s only natural for him to be tired

So usually he won’t last for more than one round. Maybe 3 on weekends

But will last a while if he sets a slower pace (see P)

On vacations however, after a few days of rest his stamina will increase dramatically

Have you seen this guy’s torso? Exactly

He has some stamina to spare

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not against, although he prefers to experiment with positions that to experiment with toys

Will probably never propose any, except when he knows his partner is into such things

If you do - Victor will do his research and find something exciting for you to enjoy

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He really is not patient enough for that

Doesn’t have time for it either

Why would he even want to? They’re unsatisfied = he’s unsatisfied (as I mentioned in K)

He sees no appeal in it. When he wants to fuck, he wants to fuck. No reason to beat around the bush

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Victor can be a bit more talkative than usual during the foreplay

Throughs some praise (a lot of it)

Tell you about his feelings (but not too much at that point)

About things that made him jealous…

A quiet Fuck may leave his lips when he enters you and when he’s about to come

In the middle of those two - he’s rather silent

Not much of a moaner

He grunts and growls a lot though. Can get a little bit loud from time

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

It was a sunny, autumn day. You were walking down the street. You’re fingers entwined. The sunlight was gracing your beautiful features so gorgeously… and he had already been yearning for so long

When you’ve finally reached the Souvenir’s door, the man is all worked up

Not that you could tell from his steely expression

But you sure got suspicious when he got all touchy feely out of the sudden

Not that you would ever mind - obviously

Feather light kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. Fingertips caressed your waist to then slide down to your hips. Then he reached for the hem of your dress…

“I love you…” he whispered in your ear

Goosebumps momentarily appeared on your skin as all the intense feelings he had been making you experience from the very day you saw him for the first time in his office travel down your spine in a form of a intense shiver

You wanted him. So bad. For so long.

And there was no hiding his feelings for you at that moment as you turned your head to face him

Soon after stomach was pressed against the kitchen counter. Your naked butt was all out on display for Victor to squeeze and spank as you squirmed and moaned under his touch

Victor didn’t take any unnecessary time to move his long, broad fingers down, to stroke your sensitive slit

He praised you for being so wet, so flushed, so eager for him

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“I love you, too” you whispered to his ear as his arms pressed you as close to his body as possible, while you were still going back from your highs

And after that, from his lips slipped the words of the most sincere adoration… and true love

Words you would never expect to leave his beautiful, soft mouth

Matches the rest of the man

Long and thick

No curvature. Perfectly straight

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Rather average

Ha has periods when he doesn’t even think about it

And he has ones when he can’t stop thinking about it

However he doesn’t go too much either way

Z = Zzz… (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Remember what I said in S? Applies here as well

He’s a hardworking man

Simplu needs to work hard to keep his business growing and to keep his lover pleased

Then he just needs to get some rest. Don’t try to change his mind because he will

If he’s well rested however, he won’t let you sleep

Like, not a chance. You need to come at least five times. He doesn’t make the rules, sorry

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fluff #mlqc hc #mlqc headcanon #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc smut

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likeiwishiknew · 3 years

Text

Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays.

He certainly never celebrated his own.

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine.

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs.

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like.

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry.

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts.

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it.

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter.

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had.

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction.

She was also another’s mate.

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates.

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken.

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue.

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it.

What the hell?

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides.

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them.

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice.

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was.

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned.

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny.

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.”

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected.

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about.

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead.

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.”

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?”

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?”

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away.

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest.

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air.

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.”

He did too.

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured.

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased.

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?”

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile.

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge.

Fuck. He cursed.

He spread his wings and jumped after her.

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below.

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting.

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.”

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.”

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him.

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

So, he shook his head and changed the subject.

“Let’s get you back into the house.”

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke.

“About the necklace...” she started.

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state.

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted.

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.”

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning.

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs.

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next.

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared.

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.”

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail.

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.”

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted.

Nesta raised a single brow.

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare.

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense.

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested.

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze.

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up.

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms.

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible.

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night.

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight.

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail.

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening.

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir.

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers.

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.”

- - -

Her head was pounding.

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar.

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here.

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment.

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things.

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness.

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans.

With Azriel.

Oh, gods.

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach.

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery.

“Shall we get started then?” he asked.

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance.

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes.

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.”

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused.

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over.

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes.

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes:

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again!

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

@my-fan-side

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acotar #acosf #azriel x gwyn #azriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #fanfiction #read on ao3

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strawberry-storybook · 3 years

Text

A wounded heart

Chapter 3: Home.

Pairing: Wong Yukhei x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut (High school !AU)

Warning: Yandere!Lucas, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, rough handling, swearing. Slight mention of somnophilia, collars and leashes, pet names, he smacks Y/n.(NSFW will occur later into the story, and I will write the warnings onto those chapters)

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: Still figuring out the formatting of this shit. Please bear with me okay! I’m also realizing I don’t have to write what part it is everytime, I literally give chapters. I’ll start putting the chapter title at the top so you know what order to read in.

Lucas pov

God they look so pretty sleeping like that, I love the soft look on their tear stained face. The way their eyes were glazed over, mouths open a jar, and that pretty bruised neck of theirs. If they’d just co-operated, they would have been okay. Sat safely in my car, wide awake and getting to know me.

But no, they chose to be a dumb little bitch. Struggling, screaming, crying. They looked beautiful, but it would do neither of us any good if someone had heard or seen them.

I just wanted to take them home, I wanted to be with them forever. I will be with them forever, but they need to sit down and listen to what I have to say. And now even as I pull up to our home with them sitting safely in my car, I can’t help but think they’re going to get away from me again.

I parked the car on the small dirt path and slowly crawled out of the car, walking over to their side and swinging the door open. God they were so fucking pretty like this. So innocent and vulnerable, they could be like puddy in my hands. So fucking vulnerable and easy to take advantage of. But I can’t, I don’t want you to be my little slut, not yet anyway. Soon my dear, soon.

I quickly threw them over my shoulder and slammed the door, walking into the home and down into the basement. I had laid a mattress out there, along with a pair of handcuffs next to a bar. A bar I couldn’t wait to see their pretty little wrists attached to, always there when I needed you, needed to see you. Mine. My pretty little prince/princess.

Y/n’s pov

I open my eyes slowly, blinking the discomfort out of my eyes. The room around me is pitch black, and the floor is soft, like a mattress. I sit up slowly and as I’m going to crawl off the bed, something feels sharp against my wrist, pulling me back into the bed.

“Hello?” I cried out into the darkness, only to hear the loud thumping of footsteps walking on the floor above me, and then a door swung open with some light shining through.

“Y/n? Are you awake baby?” I heard a deep, raspy voice call out before hearing the thumping coming down what I assumed to be stairs. And then a bright, blinding light shone through the entire room, forcing me to shield my eyes at the sudden light.

After seeing HIM standing at the bottom of the stairs, his predatory eyes staring into my soul, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was like he was taking every breath out of my lungs, sucking out my soul, with just one single look. And as he slowly walked over to me, it felt like my chest got tighter and tighter, until he eventually stood towering over me.

And then he sat down next to me, his head down in his hands. He looked distraught. Perturbed even. I just looked at him, not really knowing what else to do. I mean I couldn’t do anything else, I was cuffed to a pole that didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon.

Lucas’ pov

Oh god what did I do. Why are they here, handcuffed in my basement. Oh god oh fuck. How do I explain now? Will they even listen? Will they even understand? I have to try, I can’t let them get away. They’re mine after all, they’ve always been mine.

“Y/n, I want you to listen very carefully to me okay? Do you remember me?” And as I watched them shake their head, I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “Okay then, listen up.”

“It all started way back in grade 1, you were on the playground and I was sitting on the swing…”

(Switching to third person just for the flashback.)

The sound of children laughing filled the air as there was an active game of tag going on. However, Lucas sat alone by himself on the swings, watching everyone. He’s always been an observer, never really getting in on the action.

“Lucas! Come play with us!” His attentioned snapped over to the little boy calling out to him, he just shrugged it off and kept swinging. He didn’t want to play with the kids, he wanted to watch. He wanted to observe, try and figure out what they were thinking, and what they would do when they were being chased. He was almost always right.

Then, there was Y/n. The most playful, energetic and outgoing kid on the playground. Making sure everyone got equal chances to run and be IT. but at this particular moment, they were walking over to Lucas, smile wide of their face.

They didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lucas hand and started walking. Lucas didn’t protest, just followed. “Play” They said quietly, and Lucas nodded, His eyes stayed fixated on the person in front of him until they took off running. This made him realize he’d just been tagged and laughed as he took off running after one of the kids.

After that encounter, Lucas had stayed friends with Y/n all the way up to grade 6. Until, Y/n’s mom got a job.

“You’re moving?” Lucas exclaimed at lunch time with them, the class going silent under his loud voice. They got a little shy, but nodded. “My mom got this job, she can’t turn it down. It’s in Seoul so I have to move with her since I’m not old enough to stay by myself.”

“Stay with me Y/n. My family will take you in” Lucas said in a plea, reaching out to grab their hand “I can’t Lucas, I can’t just leave my mom. She’s all I’ve got.” They said and then it was time for the next class. They spoke briefly after school, but it wasn’t enough for Lucas.

He couldn’t bear to be losing Y/n, how could they do this to him. He cried and cried that night, cutting up all the pictures together and taping them onto his wall, drawing hearts after them in his mothers lipstick.

And then he’d found a picture of their mother, gluing it to the wall and drawing a big X over her.

Years later, He’d saved enough money to move to Korea. He already knew what school they were attending, and after their mother died in a “Freak accident”, he knew they were all his.

Back to Lucas’ pov

I obviously left out the parts about me obsessing over them, and the thing about their mom. But I told them how much I missed them, and how sad I was that I never heard from them again.

“Y/n, I’ve missed you so much you have no idea.” I spoke quietly, calmly as to not scare them anymore then I already had. Their eyes were wide, as if everything was just processing in their brain. I couldn’t stand the silence, I needed to know what they were thinking.

“Please Y/n, say something.” I said quietly, almost whining. “Lucas… My mom really liked you. She always thought I’d marry you someday.” They admitted softly, smiling a little bit.

“Wow, now you remember me” I chuckled out, stroking their cheek slightly, watching as they melted into my touch.

Y/n’s pov

Oh god he’s touching me. This sick creep is touching me again, so endearingly. But I had to play it up, acting like I liked it. The sooner I was off these handcuffs, the sooner I could make a run for the hills.

I watched as his smile twisted into what seemed like a sick grin, his hand slowly reaching down to my throat to grab it and pull me closer.

“Have you forgotten something about me baby?” He whispered quietly into my ear, making me shiver “I know just how to read you. Don’t think you’re going to leave me again just because you play all innocent and nice with me.”

His hand is quickly replaced by something leathery, tight. Omg he put a collar on me, and he was attaching a leash to it before I even knew it.

“Now.” He said, his already deep voice getting deeper, thicker. “Are you going to be a good kitten and listen? Or am I going to have to teach you a lesson”

I gulped heavily when he suddenly pulled on the leash, his eyes screaming DANGER, DANGER. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“Y-yes sir… I’ll be good” I mumbled out quietly and he tugged on the leash again, harsher this time, sending me flying towards his face. “Oh no kitten, I want you to call me master. Because you will do whatever I tell you, isn’t that right?” He whispers as he licks a strip up my neck.

I just nod in response, but he doesn’t seem to like that, a hard smack coming down on my cheek. I quickly bring my free hand to my cheek and whine. “Say it. Now.” He spits, glaring at me.

“Yes master”

“Good boy/girl”

To be continued...

#nct smut #nct x reader #lucas #lucas smut #yukhei smut #yukhei #yukhei x reader #lucas x reader #yukhei x y/n #lucas x y/n #nct drabbles #lucas drabbles #nct imagines #lucas imagines

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versegm · 4 years

Text

It starts, as many things do, with a letter.

White paper, messy handwriting. Folded in half in a small envelope and slipped under her door.

Of course, the letter itself doesn’t matter so much as the words written on it.

“A love note?” Nitocris raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Who is it from?”

“It wasn’t signed.” Ereshkigal answers. “But it was, uh. Quite generous in compliments.”

“As it should be. You’re a queen, after all.” Nitocris nods to herself. Ereskigal wishes she had the same confidence as her-

“Hey, girls!” A preppy voice rises from the door. “How y’all doing?”

“Great! Just great!” Ereshkigal hurriedly answers. She turns around with a wild smile, eager to change the subject. She can’t let them know she can’t let them know “How about you, Astolfo?”

Ereshkigal doesn’t know who the writer of these letters are. She does know, however, who she’d like them to be.

Because the thing about Astolfo, is-

“You’re staring again. Do I have something on my face?”

they’re handsome.

Pretty. Beautiful. Asu-shu-namir shaped Ereskigal’s taste in people for her whole life, sue her. She can’t help feeling weak before this smooth skin, this perfect hair, this high-pitched voice. She can’t help feeling weak before these strong arms, this broad chest, this sharp jaw.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“The Underworld? Yeah, I’ve been there once! Not Kur, obviously. The one I went to was neat, though. It was fun.”

they’re soothing.

There’s something about them, the unmistakable mark of the Underworld, just below their skin. Not like the undead. It’s much closer to her or Nitocris. Someone with ties to down there, even back when they were alive.

Ereshkigal loves the Overworld, and loves living beings. But she can’t deny that they’re a little… overwhelming. A bit of familiarity is, welcome.

(“Aw, thanks! You feel the same, actually! A fellow Moon-dweller.”

“I… never went there, though?”

“It might just be that you don’t remember. The Moon is where everything lost lies. People can end there too, when they’re lost or forgotten. It’s hard work getting them back down.”)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Oh, do you need help with that? Here, let me!”

they’re kind.

Overwhelmingly so. They get into trouble more often than not, and many think it’s because they love chaos, (which, to be fair, they do,) but Ereshkigal knows better. Astolfo cannot see someone and not help them. They’re very similar to the Master, in that way. A complete disregard for their own safety in the face of a troubled face.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Ah, almost forgot myself here. Sorry!”

they’re so considerate.

Ereshkigal isn’t… good, with touch. She’s working on it! But the sheer warmth- the pressure- the knowledge that someone is touching her, the queen of Kur, mistress of the dead, willingly touching her-

it’s. A Lot.

Astolfo is nothing but touch. Always hugging others, always patting a shoulder, holding a hand, elbowing rips. That’s their default way of showing affection.

And you’d think it’d be a problem, you’d think there’d be friction, but-

Astolfo… doesn’t touch Ereshkigal.

Oh, they want to, that much is obvious. Often, they reach out for her. Often, they raise their hands, to pat or hold or pet.

But they always stop themself, inches away from her skin.

She knows it has to be really counterintuitive to them. And she knows it must be hard for them to remember not to touch her everytime. (It’s hard for Astolfo to remember a lot of things.) Yet they try. Yet they do. For her. For her comfort. And when they forget, they apologize, always, always.

It’s been a couple months, and Ereshkigal has now worked her way to simple touches. Yet Astolfo rarely ever initiates. They wait for her to touch them, and even then, she can see how much they scrutinize her when they reciprocate, ready to back down at the first hint of discomfort.

For her. All of this, they do it for her.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Huh. I don’t really get it, but you’re welcome!”

they’re not scared.

Of anything, in general. But most importantly, of her. Ereshkigal, goddess of death. Ereshkigal, chaotic evil. Ereshkigal, ruler of mesopotamian Hell.

They’ve never even flinched. From the first day they’ve seen her.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“You… remembered what I said? You actually listen when I talk?”

they’re so, so deeply lonely.

Well. No. Lonely isn’t the right word. Astolfo has quite a lot of friends. They’re a social butterfly, always jumping from newcomer to veteran servant, chatting up even the Chaldea staff.

But there’s… something, like a gap, between Astolfo and others. It’s in the way they laugh Astolfo off as a naive idiot. It’s in the way they get frustrated when Astolfo forgets things.

And it makes Ereshkigal angry, so angry, that righteous fury that make gods tremble.

Because they don’t get it. Because they don’t try to get it. Because sometimes Astolfo talks about one thing or another, and pauses, and then apologizes, as if their thoughts were a bother, as if they were a bother. Because whenever she mentions something Astolfo talked about in the past, they get surprised- always, always, without fail.

Because Astolfo is so good, so kind, a ray of sunshine barely dressed in flesh. Because Astolfo deserves so many things, because Astolfo is so important, and they’re convinced that they’re nothing but a side character.

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Hey, check out that new card game Nobu gave me! Wanna play?”

(Fingers trembling over the door frame. Stiff shoulders. Forced smile. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s subtle, but something’s wrong.)

they trust her.

She hadn’t known what to do, that night. Something had clearly been… off, about Astolfo. But she’s never been the social one; they were. The best she could do- the best she did- was humor them. Play, and talk, and fill in the silences. (Sometimes, she hears people joke about wishing Astolfo would speak a little less. She wonders if they know. How downright disturbing it is to witness Astolfo being quiet.)

Her bed is small, and touch is difficult, but she’d tried really, really hard, and their back had been burning hot and impossibly broad against her own, but for them she’d endured it. She’d wished she could have hugged them, back then.

Astolfo hadn’t complained. As she’d drifted off to sleep, she swears she’s heard the softest “thank you.”

The next day, they’d been back to normal.

(She’d checked the calendar, afterwards. That night had been a new moon.)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Hey, look! I made you a plushie of Hippo-kun!”

“This nail polish looks SO good on you. Give me your other hand!”

“Hey! I found these flowers earlier, and I thought of you!”

they’re her friend. They’re her dear, important friend.

And Ereshkigal is in love with them.

(In her opinion, they’re an easy person to fall in love with.)

Because the thing about Astolfo is-

“Oh, hey! Great timing!”

that they’re standing right in front of her door.

“Here, take this!” They hand her something. “And I’m off. Have a nice day!”

A small envelope. It contains, Ereshkigal is sure, a white paper folded in half, filled with messy handwriting.

She can feel her face heating up.

“W-wait! You don’t get to just leave!”

“Huh? Why? Do you need me for something?” They tilt their head. Genuinely confused.

“This is a love letter!”

“Indeed it is!” They nod, pleased with themself. “I worked hard on these, I hope it shows.”

“... But why?”

And now they’re back to confused. “... Because I’m trying to court you? I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“...” Ereshkigal stands here. Dumbstruck. Because they just said it. Because Ereshkigal never, in a million years, thought this’d be a possibility. That anyone- yet alone the person she herself fancies- might actually reciprocate. Because they make it sound so simple. Because they make it sound so obvious.

“I… the letters weren’t signed.” She says stupidly.

“...” Astolfo blinks. “Oh. It genuinely didn’t occur to me to.” They chuckle sheepishly. “My bad.”

My bad.

And it’s such an Astolfo thing to say, Ereshkigal can’t help but laugh, too.

“I should have known it was you.” (Couldn’t believe it could be them)”... Do you mean them? The things you wrote?”

There are a few seconds of silence. Astolfo looks at her, as if wondering how to best answer, and she can feel dread starting to gather in her throat and-

Astolfo suddenly gets on one knee, like a knight.

“Ereshkigal.” They sound solemn all the sudden, with that tone they use when they’re trying really hard to focus. They raise a hand, and, gently, seize just the tip of her fingers, and they’re so warm, warm, warm, “You’re one of the gentlest souls I’ve ever known. You’re pretty, and strong, and kind, and.”

A pause.

Then, really quietly.

“You listen. People don’t usually listen.”

(That loneliness with no name, this gap with no words.)

Slowly, so that she can pull away at any time, Astolfo raises her hand, and softly kisses the back of her fingers. For a few seconds, Ereshkigal forgets to even breathe.

“So, yes. I meant everything I wrote. And if you’ll allow me, I have plenty more praises I’d like to write about you in the future.”

They tilt her hands on the side, and their lips are on her wrist, and their eyes are on her, and there’s a look on their face, something like adoration, something like worship. A knight bowing before their queen.

Love.

“So, will you?”

“What?” Her face feels so hot there must be steam coming out of her ears.

“Allow me to write more to you?” They run a thumb over her knuckles. “I will stop, if you want me to.”

(Always. Always. If you’re comfortable. If you want me to. An inch over her skin, begging to touch her, yet stopping for her sake.)

“You could be writing to me about rocks you found on the side of the road and I’d love it.” She blurts out. And it’s true.

Astolfo laughs, with that beautiful voice of theirs that gets her head spinning everytime. (Happiness is such a good look on them.)

(They still haven’t let go of her hand.)

“See? This, right there. This is why I love you.”

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #astolfo #ereshkigal

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duhragonball · 3 years

Text

Disinterpretation

I finally finished the Sarah Z video about “pro vs. anti”. It’s pretty long, and I ended up watching it in chunks over several days, but I think it’s worth watching, especially if you’re sort of partially connected to online fandom, but not enough to be aware of all the lingo.

As I expected, the whole thing was vague and confusing because the people involved in the conflict made it vague and confusing. In theory, the full terms would be “pro-shipping” and “anti-shipping”, but it seems like it’s more about particular kinds of ships that could be considered controversial. But that’s a slippery slope, and apparently the whole conflict mutated into both sides deciding that every hypothetical relationship between fictional characters is either equally valid or equally dangerous.

Long story short, it’s just purity culture, which was what everyone on Tumblr was calling it around 2012. But now, if you’re a sane person who genuinely asks: “Who gives a fuck about Voltron?”, these people will jump your ass and accuse you of being on the side of their enemies. “Children have died over the importance of Lotor/Hagger! Your callous indifference proves that you yourself must have murdered children!”

I think what Sarah Z really hit upon in this video was that media consumption has become so ingrained in our culture that people feel like it has to go hand-in-hand with our morality. That is, it’s not enough for me to watch Star Trek, I have to justify Star Trek as evidence that I’m a good person. Maybe this is where the expression “guilty pleasure” comes from. Conversely, it’s not enough for me to not watch Dr. Who, I have to somehow convince everyone that Dr. Who was invented by the devil.

I’m pretty sure the Reylo ship has a lot to do with this, since it’s kind of understood to be a dark, problematic concept, and fans either embrace its flaws or recoil in horror because of them. Star Wars itself is a dumb story about space wizards, so people try to give the debate more weight by linking it to freedom of self expression and/or enabling real world harm. Suddenly it’s not enough to just think two actors would look cute making out instead of fighting. Now it’s this battlefield for the soul of civilization or something.

I grew up in the 80′s, when “concerned parents” and grifters would accuse the Smurfs and metal bands of promoting satanism and witchcraft. I used to hear stories of teens going out into the woods in the middle of the night to do occult stuff, and all I could ever think about was: “Why would anyone bother wandering out in the woods in the middle of the night?” Which is why “concerned parents” turned their attention to things that were closer to home, like Saturday morning cartoons. It had nothing to do with the content; it was just about finding a safe, accessible target for their hysteria. Some people want to go on a crusade without leaving the house, so they pick a fight with Papa Smurf instead of confronting the real evils in the world. Even as a kid, I knew this was a con, because I’d watched the show for myself and knew it was too saccharine to be threat to anyone.

The pro/anti folks have tried to disguise this with a lot of terminology. I wondered why they seemed to reluctant to use the full terms “pro-shipper” and “anti-shipper”, and it’s probably a couple of things. First, the word “shipper” is basically an admission that this is pointless bullshit that doesn’t matter, and they’d like to avoid that connotation. Second, they seem to have decided that this goes beyond shipping itself, into practically anything else they want it to involve. It’s all part of the con, which is to make you believe that it’s “us vs. them”, and you can be part of “us” by curating specific attitudes about Steven Universe.

Seriously, “about Steven Universe” is such an incredible punchline. You can make anything funnier by adding those three words to the end of a sentence. “Do not interact if you blog about Steven Universe.” “Hey, what’s up, YouTube, this is SSJ3RyokoLover69, and this is going to be kind of a serious video about Steven Universe.” “Mrs. Johnson, the results of your biopsy are in, and I have some bad news about Steven Universe.” It’s a fucking kids show. “Oh no, all the characters look like the characters in all the other kids shows!” Yeah, that’s because it’s a kids show. Marvin looks like Garfield, this isn’t new.

The common denominator here seems to be that both sides try to wrap themselves in the flag of vulnerable groups: impressionable minors, trauma survivors, harassment victims, etc. The “pros” want to protect those people so that they can feel free to explore weird subject matter on their own terms, and the “antis” want to protect the same people from being exposed to weird subject matter that they might not want to see. It’s all about establishing a moral high ground. Back in the day, it was called “sanctimony”.

But people get roped into this, because at their core, people want approval, and this stupid conflict offers them a sense of community. As long as you support the cause, whatever it may be, you’ll have this online friend network that appears to support anything you do. But if you deviate from their norm, you’ll be cast out. Does this sound familiar?

To use a more familiar example, I still sometimes find people clamoring about Gochi vs. Vegebul. I’ve never understood this, because both ships were canon, and I never saw much direct evidence of a war between them, but people would still talk about how crazy the Vegebul shippers were, and how crazy the Gochi shippers were, and it was like some huge thing going on just over the hills. It’s the same idea, since the idea that you could like both or neither never seems to occur to anyone involved. I never gave a shit, because I used to see the same dumb agendas in the Harry Potter fandom.

Okay, so let me take you back. It’s 2005 through 2011, and I’m hateblogging all seven Harry Potter novels, because fuck you, that’s why. The funny thing I encountered was that occasionally fans seemed to want to pretend like my bashing of certain characters was proving them right somehow. They were like “See? He hates Ron Weasley too! That proves that Seamus Finnegan is the coolest guy ever.” The Slytherin stans would do this all the time, because I would constantly take the piss out of the Gryffindor characters for being self-important dopes. I think they just liked hearing it from an outside perspective. But I had to keep reminding them all that I hated all of them. Every character from Harry Potter sucks ass. Voldemort was my favorite, but only because he was the one guy who wanted to kill all of the others. But he sucks too because he failed.

And the shippers were the same way. I’d say something shitty about Ron, because Ron sucks, and some smartass Joss Whedon fan would be like “Yes! Boost the signal! That is why Harry/Hermione is the best ship!” And I’d be like “No, Harry and Hermione suck at least as bad as Ron does. They’re all terrible and I hate them.” I really do think there was some sort of Stockholm Syndrome going on with Harry Potter books, where everyone secretly knows they suck, but the fans sort of latch on to one or two characters and go like “Well, he’s not as shitty as the rest.” Like finding spaghetti in the trash and picking out the meatball with the least amount of lint on it. Then you’d go and start a flamewar with some other starving person over whether your meatball is shittier than theirs. This is what people mean when they say to read another book.

Anyway, the big thing I picked up from Sarah Z’s video is “disinterpretation”, a term coined by MSNBC columnis Zeeshan Aleem. The Twitter thread is worth a read, but the short version is that he once remarked that a Julia Louis-Dreyfus routine wasn’t very good, and someone got mad at him for insinuating that women are incapable of being funny. They just took his dissatisfaction with one performance by one comedian as being a universal condemnation of women comedians in general. And this sort of thing is all over the internet. Everyone sees what they want to see and then they take it as permission to overreact.

I ran into this myself a while back, because someone saw who I interacted with on Twitter and decided that they’re all bad guys and if I have any interaction with them, then that makes me a bad guy too. At the time I tried to play it cool, but the more I think about it, the more it ticks me off. And over the course of that conversation, it was said that I don’t talk about myself much, and that’s kind of funny, because all I ever do on social media is write long-ass blog posts like this one. I don’t expect anyone to memorize them, or even read them all the way through, but when I write all this stuff and someone goes out of their way to say they don’t know anything about me, the message is that they just didn’t pay attention to what I was saying, and they didn’t bother to try.

So I’m a little jaded from that, because I got called out for a bunch of stuff I didn’t even do or say, and apparently that’s just a thing that happens. People will reject you for completely arbitrary reasons, not because of anything you actually said or did, and you’re left thinking you made some terrible mistake. Except, no, I’ve seen it happen to other people, people a lore more conscientious than I am, and if they can’t satisfy the bullshit purity standards, then I never stood a chance. If the game is rigged so I can’t win, then I’m not going to play.

And it’s that same condition that probably draws people into these online holy wars, because if you declare yourself for the pro or anti side, at least then you’ll have a posse backing you up. Only they don’t support you, they support your willingness to support them. Once your commitment to their agenda wavers, even in the slightest, they will turn against you.

Sarah Z suggests that both sides of the war drop the pro and anti terms, since they lost all meaning long ago. But that just invites a new set of useless terms to perpetuate the same cycle. Her more useful advice is for fandom people to broaden their horizons. She got a lot of flak for tweeting “Go outside” once, but the ironic thing is that it’s sound advice. I had lunch with my mom yesterday and it was just nice getting away from things for a while. People need to do that more often, and unfortunately it feels like it’s harder to do than ever before.

But “go outside” isn’t just a literal thing. It can mean going beyond your usual haunts, reading the same books, watching the same shows, rehashing the same conversations. I think the reason this stuff always revolves around “shipping” is because there seems to be this deep-seated compulsion to pair fictional characters off like this, and for a lot of folks it’s the only way they can consume a story, so they do. And they do it lot, and there’s a lot of them, and they do it the same way every time, and lo and behold the same old conflicts start up. So maybe “go outside” should mean “go outside of that cycle once in a while.” Just a thought.

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himikiyo · 3 years

Text

i’ve been on my lonely // himikiyo week day 5

Himikiyo Week Day 5: Skirt + Lipstick

“This kind of meddling is rather unlike you,” Kirumi remarked that evening. “Setting them up on a date?"

After seeing Korekiyo and Himiko dance around each other for so long, Rantaro takes things into his own hands.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut.

It was that time of year again. The season of parties, reunions, and all manner of other Danganronpa events. They existed all year long for those who wished to embrace their celebrity status, of course, but even the disinterested among them were dragged into the lead up to a new season. Season 53 was one of the biggest hits in a generation.

Without really meaning to, Rantaro had fallen into the role of the group’s big brother figure. Ironic, considering his utter failure at it in his fictional backstory. He liked helping his friends though, found more fulfillment in that than working on his own problems. He didn’t get much time to bond with anyone during the killing game, but he’d more than made up for it.

At the moment, he was in the hotel room of one Yumeno Himiko. One of the most resentful of the fame bestowed on all of them, she always required a little extra encouragement in the days before big events. That...wasn’t always because of Team Danganronpa though.

“It’s okay to feel anxious about seeing them,” Rantaro said, summoning every bit of patient encouragement in his possession. “Or even to be looking forward to it. Other people’s grudges don’t need to affect what you do, you know.”

“It’s not like that!” she exclaimed, sounding downright panicked. The blush spreading across her face told a different story, along with the soft-looking plushie she was absentmindedly hugging. Even at a glance, the long, dark hair and green uniform were unmistakable. It was the official Shinguuji Korekiyo plush from the DR53 line. It had been one of the lower sellers, compared to others like Ouma or Saihara who were sold out for months. Himiko’s copy was clearly well-loved though, if she even went to the effort of bringing it along to a hotel.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze drop to the plushie to tell her he noticed it.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Himiko argued back stubbornly. “It’s just something soft to hug. Theirs was on sale. It’s not like I kiss its forehead and tuck it into bed or something.”

“Mhm.” She definitely did exactly that. “Well, if you don’t care at all about seeing Shinguuji, I guess there’s no need to talk about it anymore, right?”

“Right. No need.”

“On another topic then, I know a good restaurant nearby. We could head over there for dinner tonight if you don’t have plans with anyone else.”

“Sure.” She perked up some then, plushie still securely in her arms. “That’d be good.”

“Then shall we meet in the park at 7:00?”

---

After leaving Himiko’s hotel room, Rantaro didn’t return to his own. No, he had another friend to pay a visit to.

“Amami-kun, what brings you here? I don’t recall making plans with anyone.” Korekiyo tilted their head in curiosity, hand coming up to cover their unmasked face. It seemed a subconscious gesture, a lingering instinct to keep from being seen. Himiko would surely know more about that than Rantaro though. He’d caught her looking at photos and tabloid articles about them more than once.

“Oh, no, we didn’t have any plans,” he said, chuckling softly. “I apologize for catching you off-guard, Shinguuji-san. In fact, I came here to find out if you’d be interested in making some.”

“Making plans with you? Ah, well, it’s kind of you to offer, but...”

“Hoping for someone else?” he asked. Just as predicted, Korekiyo’s eyes widened, a clear sign of someone whose true feelings had been discovered.

“I wouldn’t dream of being so rude,” they demurred. “It isn’t as though I have people lining up to spend time with me these days, yes? I should accept invitations as they come.”

“If you’re sure. I happen to know Himiko’s room number if you’d prefer to ask her.”

“I...it’s not like that. Even if I did wish to invite Yumeno-san out, she wants nothing to do with me. The same is true of most of our group.”

“Then do you want to grab dinner tonight? I know a great place nearby. We could meet in the park at 7:00?”

“That...would be acceptable. Thank you, Amami-kun.”

---

“This kind of meddling is rather unlike you,” Kirumi remarked that evening. “Setting them up on a date? That seems more like something Kaede might do.”

“Maybe I’m learning from her,” Rantaro said with a laugh. “It’s about time those two sort out their differences. They can claim to be at odds all they want, but they’re the only people who really believe they’re enemies. Well, maybe Chabashira-san too, but that’s more wishful thinking than anything else.”

“Here’s hoping it works out.” Offering him a mischievous grin from over the rim of her teacup, she added, “I owe Ouma-kun some money if they don’t get together by the end of the year, and it’s already fall.”

“I don’t think you have to worry.”

---

Where the hell was Rantaro? Himiko had arrived at the park right on time, but there was no sign of him anywhere. It wasn’t like him to be late or stand people up — not without a serious reason to do so. The park was relatively small, so it didn’t seem likely that she could have simply missed him.

Just as she was debating whether she should try to text him and ask where he was, she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. Even before she turned her head to look though, she could tell that it wasn’t him. This figure was taller and didn’t radiate his relaxed confidence in the least.

Korekiyo? An unmasked Korekiyo at that. She still wasn’t used to them being more lax about face coverings these days.

“Oh, um, Shinguuji. What a coincidence seeing you here.” Her voice sounded forced and awkward even to herself. She wished the ground would just swallow her up and save her from needing to interact with them, but no amount of wishing would make that dream come true. The world seemed dead set on reminding her of her (unfortunate, tragic, hopeless) crush at every possible opportunity.

“There are no accidents in this world,” they replied, sounding ominous as usual. “And in any case, it shouldn’t be that surprising, yes? Seeing someone at a park mere moments from the hotel where you’re both staying isn’t a terribly unlikely thing to occur.”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. It doesn’t really matter, I was just making conversation or something.” Her voice trailed off more and more until it was barely a half-whispered mutter, any semblance of confidence stomped out by embarrassment. “Anyway, uh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting Rantaro here to go to dinner together. Have you seen him?”

“You’re supposed to be meeting with Amami-kun?”

“Is there something weird about that?” It was a defensive question, one that slipped out before she was able to stop herself. Surely Rantaro never let any of her secrets slip, right? There was no way Korekiyo could know what kinds of things she said about them to Rantaro.

“As a matter of fact, yes, there is something weird. I’m supposed to be meeting him for dinner too.”

“What?”

Instinctively, she glanced around looking for cameras or anything else that might hint at this being some kind of staged interaction. She wouldn’t put it past some of the entertainment industry to spring something like that on her unannounced. However, there was nothing, nor did she really think Korekiyo would play along with something like that. Of their group, they were one of the most resentful about what they’d been through. Understandably so.

“I was asked to meet him here at 7:00,” they said, briefly pulling out their phone to confirm the time again. “It seems Amami-kun may have double booked himself.”

“Why would he do that?” Himiko wondered aloud. “It isn’t like him to be so careless.”

“Ah, you two are close then? I did notice that you’re on a first name basis.” Kiyo gave her a placid look, fixing their already perfect hair. God, they really were unfairly pretty. So much so that she felt a pang of jealousy at the realization that anyone could look over and see exactly what she was seeing right now.

“No, not really.” They were wearing black lipstick instead of their usual red, and the striking green of their eyeshadow made their amber color even brighter than usual. “We’re friends, but I don’t know if I’d say we’re close. It’s pretty casual.”

“I see. I am not close to him either. In fact, I was rather surprised by his invitation today. If he decided to back out, it wouldn’t be much of a shock. I’m much less convinced he would do something like that to you though.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why are we so different?” Their outfit was gorgeous too, almost all black but no less intriguing for the lack of variety. Her eyes couldn’t help but trace the lines of their slightly too long sleeves (impressive, given how lanky they were) and flowy skirt.

“You know exactly why. I don’t think I need to give you a refresher course on that, Yumeno-san.”

She just sighed, not sure what she was meant to say in response to that.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think about it. Likely or not, he’s standing both of us up.”

“Unless...” The word was spoken so softly that Himiko wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. Did they have some other idea about what could be going on?

Clearing their throat briefly, Kiyo continued. “If Amami-kun does turn out to be a no show...I suppose we could still go to the restaurant he chose. Together. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly, thinking of the Kiyo plushie snuggled up safe and sound in her hotel room. Could...this have been Rantaro’s plan all along? She still had her doubts about whether Kiyo returned her feelings, but they were asking her to dinner. “We could do that.”

---

By the time they’d been seated in a cozy, dimly lit corner, it was abundantly clear that the restaurant was a romantic one, meant to cater to couples on dates. If it hadn’t already been obvious that the whole situation was some sort of set up on Rantaro’s part, that would have cemented it. He wanted them to go on a date.

She was afraid of getting her hopes up.

“Seems like a nice place,” she remarked, fiddling with the edge of her menu. Aside from the quiet background noise of other patrons talking and soft music, the quiet at their table was deafening. Not much conversation happened on the walk over either, mainly small talk about their day to day lives and those of their fellow alumni.

“Yes, it does,” Kiyo echoed. “Not the sort of establishment I would have pegged Amami-kun as frequenting.” She wondered if they were nervous or if she was just imagining the signs of tension. The stiff slope of their shoulders, the tenuous edge to their voice...

“Yeah, maybe not his type of place. Does that mean it’s yours?”

“It could be. There’s beauty in things like this, even if I’ve grown somewhat disillusioned with humanity as a whole.”

“And...is anything else here your type?” The instant the words escaped her mouth, she felt mortified. A moment’s bravery had been enough to say something like that? It was all she could do not to slink down in shame, face hot as she took a sip of water. “Um, never mind actually, that was a silly question.”

“No, I don’t believe it was. There is something else here that’s my type, believe it or not.” The mood lighting made it difficult to tell for sure, despite the lack of their usual mask, but it seemed like they could have been blushing.

“Really? And are you going to tell me what?”

“I wonder,” they said, lips curving into a smile. “Do you have any suspicions?”

“I might. If I’m right about why Rantaro planned all this out, then that doesn’t leave too many options.” She was far from an expert at the art of flirtation, but she suspected the same might be true of them. As suave as they often managed to seem in the past, it was a facade, part of the character Team Danganronpa created for them. Or perhaps not even that. Even for the ‘ideal’ Korekiyo, the one that only ever existed on paper, that confidence wasn’t so genuine. Not to the extent of really being able to open up and be vulnerable.

It wasn’t the time to make herself sad thinking of what they had to go through. If they saw any accidental hints of pity in her eyes, it could ruin everything. All she could do was try her best at chasing after what she really wanted.

“Care to share your deductions, then?” Was it intentional, the way their hand was sliding closer to her along the table? They’d never been one to take the prospect of physical contact lightly.

“I’m no detective,” she said, needing to suppress a shiver when their fingertips just barely grazed her own. Their nail polish was black too, matching their lipstick. No rings of the sort Rantaro still tended to wear, but she had a feeling they’d suit them. Any kind of jewelry would be lucky to adorn them.

“I don’t believe you need to be. In fact, I’d say the answer is quite obvious.”

Himiko chuckled. Their fingers were tangling together in earnest now, unmistakable as anything but what it was — holding hands.

“I know everyone kind of pushes us to keep up certain appearances. The media, the fans...even our friends, whether they mean to or not. They expect things,” she said softly. It was why it didn’t take her long after the end of the killing game to figure out that she shouldn’t talk about Kiyo too much, or with anyone who couldn’t keep a secret. The others found her interest strange, even repulsive. They were supposed to be enemies, forced into that box largely by people who didn’t have anyone’s best interests at heart.

“Yes, they do,” Kiyo agreed. Rather than launching into a long, anthropology-tinted lecture as they might have been prone to doing in the past, they seemed content to simply listen and reflect on what she had to say, allowing her to talk and draw conclusions on her own.

“Not many people would be happy about the idea of us getting closer, but...” She glanced down at the table, at how nicely their hands fit together. There in the corner, none of the other people in the restaurant had noticed who they were. Danganronpa fans were everywhere, but that didn’t mean it was impossible to steal moments of peace.

“But you’re tired of organizing your life around what other people think, yes? And Amami-kun for one, though I can’t claim to know him on a very deep level, seems supportive. I would go as far as saying enthusiastic. I can’t recall anyone else attempting to pry about my romantic life.” They paused, then clarified, “Not with benign intentions, that is.”

“So you’d be interested in it too? Getting to know each other better instead of always acting like we’re still enemies?”

“I never considered you my enemy in the first place, Yumeno-san. I would be honored to be given that chance.”

There was no doubt those words were genuine. For someone who slipped so easily into the role of villain, Kiyo was remarkably free of malice towards...anyone, really, save for some Team Danganronpa higher ups.

“Then I guess we could even call this a date.”

Still clasping her hand, they lifted it just enough to brush a kiss over the back of it, leaving a barely noticeable smudge behind.

“That we could.”

#himikiyo #himikiyoweek2021 #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3

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mccall-me-maurice · 3 years

Text

In Hopes You’re on the Other Side, Talking to me too

Pairing: Jack Merridew/Ralph

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Jack was trying his best to be Ralph’s everything. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. So every night the redhead finds himself talking to the moon to try and win Ralph back through words that he’ll never really say to the boy. All in hopes that perhaps a certain someone is doing the exact same.

Jack hates himself more than he hates anyone else in the galaxy. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. Maybe there are a couple people worse than him but it really can’t be all that many. It’s probably one of the shortest lists to ever grace this planet, but for now he’s focusing on the fact that he just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Ralph and Jack never really got along until 2 years ago. They had a horrible past of bloody fights and words that chilled the other to the bone. They were so used to painting old school tiles with each other’s blood that they didn’t really get the time to know each other much further than hatred. Until 2 years ago, on the last day of their senior year. Ralph had finally held his hand out to Jack, letting the redhead take it instead of trying to maim him. That was all that it took for the boy who previously was his rival to become fascinated with Ralph in a way other than what he initially thought. Of course, it was supposed to be a horribly inconvenient time for both of them and if he had to guess, Jack would’ve said Ralph planned it so he wouldn’t have to face the freckled boy again. However, fate had different plans for them and on their first day of college, the two had been shocked to figure out that they were located in the same hall for the next four years.

Flash forward 1 and ½ years and Jack and Ralph were helplessly in love with each other. Nobody had suspected the pairing of an easygoing business major and finance major to pair up with each other. Jack himself didn’t really notice when the shift from friends to boyfriends occurred but before he could blink an eye, he was abandoning homework assignments to be with Ralph and staying up hours past when he usually drifted off to sleep to hear the tired voice of his boyfriend giggle about people he had seen in class. 20 years old and Jack really believed he had found his soulmate. He really believed that they would be together for as long as they lived. As long as the sun burned in the sky, his hand would be in Ralph’s. Even once they passed, they would be dancing together as ghosts.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was March 3rd, the weather had shifted to overcast and Jack was slammed with studying for exams. Ralph’s exams had passed a week prior and the boy had flopped on his boyfriend’s bed, eyes scanning through a phone screen. Every so often he would hammer Jack with a series of questions and the redhead would be so tired he wouldn’t really give coherent responses. Late nights studying pages that were swimming with words and an excessive amount of monster energy drinks really turned someone’s brain to absolute mush. Not to mention Ralph had been sickeningly sweet to him, as if he could persuade Jack off of his swivel chair and onto the bed. As much as he wanted to be over there, running his fingers through Ralph’s hair and whispering the boy to sleep, all he could do was let the red ink of his pen slide across paper knowing that he was one sentence closer to the warm embrace of the blond.

“Jack…”

“What’s up?” Ralph sounded wary, like the news he was about to break would simply crush Jack. Little did he know, it would.

“Jack we need to take a break.” Jack choked on his spit. “Not forever. I don’t want to be away from you forever… Unless it has to be that way. Just for a couple weeks, a couple months. However long it takes for you to realise that there’s so much more to life than what lies in those textbook pages. I mean… You have been straight up ignoring me lately and I talked to Simon about it… He agreed that what's best for us is to just take a break. I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Which leads Jack to the present day, lying on the bed Ralph once laid on, scrolling through the text messages that Ralph once sent with tears in the corners of his eyes. He wants nothing more than to have the boy back, the heat of the soccer player's body warming Jack as he presses his cheek against blond hair. The energy of the night has been doing this to him recently, the darkness shrouding him as he lets himself sun quietly into the pillow. He can’t imagine that it’s not his fault. He gave Ralph his everything but even then the boy deserves so much more. He deserves the best and Jack clearly isn’t that for him. He will never be.

Jack shuts his phone off, placing it on the nightstand that lies to his left. The only thing that lights up the room is the beam of moonlight through his awfully cheap curtains. The flimsy white fabric barely blocks out anything, but even the inanimate object seems to be trying harder than Jack. The clock on his nightstand reads 23:57, signalling to the boy that even though exams are long over, he will still be up for at least another 3 hours. Not studying like he used to. No, he stopped studying the day that he took his final test, body filled with too much sorrow to even review the content properly. Recently the redhead has picked up the hobby of sitting cross legged in front of his window on the second floor of building B and he talks. He talks to the moon, to the stars, but most importantly he talks to Ralph. Whether the blond listens or not, he really isn’t sure. It’s not like his ex-boyfriend would ever be able to hear his cracked voice stumble over words as he spills his heart out to the endless night. Normally Jack wouldn’t even let himself be weak enough as to think about a head of blond hair for one more minute of one more day. And he does play a very clever façade in front of Roger and Maurice. He acts like Ralph doesn’t exist, like the hole in his heart doesn’t ache every time tan skin and ocean blue eyes filled with joy cross his path. On the days he isn’t sitting in his room, all alone, he’s out with his friends letting sweaty bodies press up against him as music blares. Drinks spill from red cups and onto the floor and all Jack can think about is how none of the people that choose to plaster themselves to him are Ralph. None of the people who cover his mouth with theirs, only to be quickly shoved off and sworn at, are the boy who he wishes would drunkenly kiss him. As much as he prays that Roger will show up empty handed with a party invite, at least once a week the raven haired boy is smirking at him with a bottle of booze clutched tightly in his fist. In order to seem like he’s the same sick person he was before he dated Ralph, he gives his friend an equally mischievous smile and takes the bottle.

Perhaps all of these emotions that Jack is feeling are Ralph’s fault. Or at least a byproduct of the fair boy. Before he let the boy ruin his life with ease, he was so cold hearted and had no fucks left to give. But for once, he had something to fight for that wasn’t himself. For once in his 20 years of life, Jack had someone who loved him just as much as he loved them. Which is why Ralph had always mattered more than a stupid party or nagging from his mates. He would’ve dropped the world to hold Ralph. Yes, that has to be it. All the crying had been because the blond’s soft heart had destroyed Jack. It had left him in a million pieces and as much as he didn’t want himself to be weak, as much as he hated himself for crying, it was happening.

Jack lets his body move over to the window, legs almost giving out underneath him as he falls into the place he’s become to know so very well over the past months. Roger didn’t invite him out today, but he doesn’t exactly blame the boy. There’s at least one party Roger attends every night, but bringing the heartbroken finance major who shoves off anyone who tries to make a move probably isn’t the best look for him. So instead Jack is sitting in the oversized pullover sweater with the college’s name plastered across the front that he got at orientation. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his hair is all mussed and he probably looks like the human embodiment of death.

“Hey Ralph. I know you’re not talking to me… And you probably can’t even hear me. But I miss you. A lot. It’s really not in my character to miss people so that’s probably why this feels so weird.” Jack can’t help the sad laughter that bubbles up in his chest and escapes his lips. It just happens as naturally as breathing. “You know, I never thought that it would be you that I fell in love with. But here we are. I would’ve torn apart galaxies with my bare hands and rebuilt ones that would shield you from any pain. I don’t know how you’re feeling but I do know how I am. I miss the big smiles that you would give people when they said something hilarious, I miss the genuine laughs that you only did when we were alone. I miss the way your eyes mimic the ocean waves and dance like the sea. I miss the soft press of your hand against mine, and how they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I miss you.” The same words that have been rolling off of his tongue for weeks come easy now, eyes not watering with tears quite yet. This is always the easy part. Simple things that anyone would miss when they lose their lover. However, Jack isn’t even close to finished and he knows his freckles will be stained with tears sometime soon.

“I miss the way you used to jump into my arms after you won a game despite being hideously dirty. I miss how you used to drag me out to look at every sunset because you wanted to find a beautiful part of every day…” His voice cracks at the end, memories swarming around like bees to honey. Every simple thing the fair boy did, probably without thought, now haunted Jack. The sweet gestures lived behind his eyes now, only as memories. A part of him wants to stop missing Ralph and just get on with his life. Live like a normal human being instead of one who can barely function without someone else there. He knows that eventually it will happen. It always does. Ralph has probably already moved on, found someone new to waste the days away with.

“Hey Ralph…” Jack starts tracing a pattern onto the knee of his sweatpants with his finger, eyes locked on the stars. Everything about the moment slows, the dancing lights in his peripheral, from a party in another building, the twinkling of the stars, the rush of wind against his face. Jack lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut, praying that one day, at some point, he’ll finally have an answer to the question that lays heavy on his tongue. All the sleepless nights and words that only he can hear lead to the same place. Like a winding road that always spits you out right where you began. All he can do is hope Ralph hears him, hope Ralph is right there with him whispering words to the moon that sits high in the sky.

“One day, will you love me again?”

#lotf #lord of the flies #lotf jack #lotf ralph #lotf jalph #jalph #my writing #oneshots #oneshot #i’ll add tags later

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padme-parker · 4 years

Text

Collide / Chapter 1

[a Star Wars x Avengers crossover]

Summary: With the fate of the universe lying in your hands, you are sent on a mission to a galaxy far, far away.

Warnings: none (I think)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: The readers ‘superhero’ name is Star btw, so I hope that clears up any possible confusion (there will be a backstory/flashback later as to how she got that name). This is the first series I’ve ever written, so there's gonna be some major plot holes and shit that doesn’t make sense!! I’ve been trying to work through the kinks and make it seems as logical as possible. Sorry and Thanks for reading :) xx

also I didn’t really proof reader so sorry if there like,,, a lot of mistakes

image is from the 100! (but this isn’t strictly about the 100 !)

“and I scream from the top of my lungs, what’s going on?” -4 Non Blondes

You sat down on the couch with a huff, Tony had taken the remote away from you after you decided to replay Revenge of the Sith for the 100th time. It was the team bonding movie night, occurring every friday. Peter and you were more than eager to rewatch it, however the team was not so ecstatic about it.

As soon as Tony saw your eyes light up, he immediately knew what you were thinking of, “And don’t even think of asking FRIDAY to play it for you.” You let out another huff, deciding to leave so you could have some time to yourself.

“Star, where are you going!?” He paused the show, as he and the others turned to you.

“Well, since you took away my joy, Mr. Stank, I’ve decided to ogle Anakin Skywalker in the comfort of my own room.” You could hear the snickers let out by the team as Tony muttered under his breath, unpausing the show as the theme for Sense8 started to play.

As you entered your room, you took no notice towards the figure in the corner. You were just about to flop down onto your heavenly bed before you were interrupted.

“Miss L/N.” You let out a scream as you turned to the figure. Quickly unholstering your weapon, you pointed it at the figure, finger guns ready to shoot if needed. “Cut the crap L/N, and put the ‘gun’ away.”

“Damn Fury, I could’ve been changing! What the hell.” You gave him an incredulous look

“Oh you’re funny, but we all know that you don’t give a damn if someone sees you half or fully naked. Not that I’d want to, cause frankly I don’t.” Your eyes widened with shock, mouth falling open, “Nevermind that, I’m not here for chitchat. I have a mission for you that requires your focus to be….elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere..? EYe- sir it’s the 21st century, not the 18th century.”

“Yes, well regarding the place you’re going to, our timelines won’t be explicitly the same.” You gave him a questioning look, he continued, “Tell me young L/N, have you ever heard of the force?” Oh at this point he must’ve been tickling your pickle, I mean what kind of joke is he playing at?

“Yes, of course I have! It’s a fictional power from a fictional movie!” Opting out on the ‘DUH!’ at the end just in case Fury decided he wasn’t in the mood to play games anymore.

“Wrong, agent L/N. You’re absolutely wrong.” At this point you were seated on your bed, hands clasped together and placed on your lap. “In fact, where do you think you got your powers from?” Oh shit, maybe you should’ve thought about the fact that you could move things with your mind before saying that the force was fake.

“I don’t understand, even if what you’re implying is remotely correct, it would be impossible! There’s also no way I could even go back to the past to change it” Before you could utter another word, Director Fury motion for you to stand up.

“Come with me agent L/N, you have much to learn.” He said as he directed both of you out of your room. Soon you found yourself in front of the doors to the meeting room. Walking in, you noticed there had already been files laid out across the table. “Take a seat, L/N. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“First things first,” I’m the realest, HA! I’m funny, good one y/n. “The force is real, it’s essentially what gives you your telekinetic powers. Second, because of Doctor Strange, it has come to my attention that the fate of the universe lies in your hands.”

“Wait, what? Why me? Is it because I’m a huge Star Wars fan..? I mean come on! What about Peter, he likes Star Wars too!!”

“Cause I said so, and no, Peter is too young.” Yeah, but apparently old enough to be watching a show with the team that contains nudity, but then again he is 18. Poor kid would just blush at the thought of sex.

“Okay, but even if I did agree to doing this, wouldn’t it be too late for me to at least try to solve anything?” There were a million thoughts and questions running through your mind.

“Time runs at a slower pace in our universe than it does in theirs. If our calculations are correct, we are currently in the Revenge of the Sith timeline.”

“But I thought it was, ‘A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…’ not the present..” you rebutled

“Ah, yes. We contacted Mr. Lucas himself. Turns out he too is force sensitive, and gifted with foresight. That’s why he wrote the books and comics, along with creating the movies. He did it so he would never forget about where he’d come from, but it also served as a warning. When he first had visions of the downfall of the Jedi Order, he fled. Using a bridge that connected Coruscant to our Earth. That’s how he, and many other force sensitive beings like you, can inhabit the earth.” He explained.

“That still doesn’t answer my question, how-”

Fury interrupted you before continuing, “Right, like I said, time runs slower here than it does in their universe. While time in his universe runs faster. Before he left, Qui Gon Jinn hadn’t been born yet. He’d left their universe when he was merely 22, about the same age as you. At the age of 32, he’d already released A New Hope. On Earth, he ages slower. Had he stayed within his universe, he would’ve been dead way before you were born.”

All this new information was giving you a headache. “Hold on, you mentioned a bridge.. What exactly is it?”

“Well agent L/N, the bridge is located in the middle of Antarctica, precisely the south pole in an underground ice cave. The bridge can either be used to summon other beings or to travel to different planets. It just so happens that we have one here on Earth. How? We have no idea, but we’re working on it.”

At this point, you were confused and wouldn’t be able to comprehend any new information if he gave any. Noticing the distant look on your face, Fury dismissed you.

“I’ll give you the night to think about it, but remember, the fate of the universe lies in your hands, Y/N. We don’t have much time to waste.”

You sat on your bed, hands raking through your hair. Hours ago you were so excited to rewatch your favorite movie, and now you were about to be thrown into that universe. You didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified. Fury said that there were other force sensitive beings on Earth, so why would they choose you? Surely there was someone stronger than you that they could send. But then again this meant that you would be seeing THE Anakin Skywalker.

You looked at the files again to get a better grasp of the mission. Join the Jedi Order. Befriend Anakin Skywalker, Obi Wan Kenobi, and Senator Amidala. Eradicate the Titan race. Hold on, they wanted you to kill a whole race of creatures. If you couldn’t kill a fly, then there was no way you’d be able to off a whole race.

You decided to shoot Peter a text, asking him to come to your room. It didn’t take long before you heard a knock on your door. You responded with its open and Peter came into your room, flopping down onto your bed right next to you.

“What’s up buttercup?” You scrunched up your face. Ew, save it for MJ. Speaking of MJ, you wondered how the two of them were doing. However, you chose not to say anything and instead focus on the situation.

“Okay Pete, I’m going to tell you something and you absolutely CANNOT repeat it to anyone else. Not even Ned.” You paused, waiting for him to nod before continuing, “So like after Mr. Stark so rudely interrupted our rewatch of Star Wars, I went to my room to watch it myself. And then one thing led to another and nowi’mgonnabetravelingacrosstheuniverseandplayingjediwithTHEANAKINSKYWALKERandofcoursedaddywankenobibutFurywantsmetokillawholeraceofbeingsbecausethefateoftheuniverseliesinmyhandsnow.” You turned to Peter hoping his advanced hearing allowed him to understand what you just said, but instead you just received a flabbergasted look from him. “ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶦ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵃᶦᵈ…” You waited a few seconds expecting that he would catch on eventually, alas he didn’t. You began to repeat yourself, only this time slower.

“...so you're telling me that the force exists and i got stuck with a FREAKING radioactive spider bite??” Dear god, this boy was going to be the death of you.

“Peter, that’s not the point!” You said, trying to get back to the subject, “The point is that by tomorrow I’ll be in a whole other universe, that up until today, didn’t exist to us. This is supposed to be fictional dude, and now it’s becoming my reality! OUR reality! What if I get impaled by a lightsaber? I’m only 20, I can’t die!! Or worse, what if Anakin doesn’t like me?” The severity of the situation was just now hitting you, so many things could go wrong on this mission, but the whole universe was counting on you. The weight of the world began to crush you and breathing became hard. Falling to the floor, you laid in a fetal position, arms clutching your knees.

From the corner of your eye you could see Peter's arm reaching out to touch your shoulder, “Hey, star, you're okay. You’re gonna be okay. C’mon sit up and take a deep breath with me.” Carefully, Peter hoisted you up. You sat criss cross applesauce on the floor, parallel to Peter. Following the breathing exercise, you felt yourself calming down.

“Thank you, y’know you didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it, a lot.” You knew you weren’t getting a wink of sleep tonight, so you asked Peter if he could stay for the night, which he agreed to. The two of you spent the night talking about the most random things, and before you knew it, the sun had already risen.

Noticing that it was morning, you offered to make some breakfast for the both of you. However as you got up to move, FRIDAY interrupted you, “Miss Y/N, Director Fury requests your presence in the meeting room.” Letting out a loud groan, you told FRIDAY that you would be down soon.

“Well Peter, it looks like I’ll have to make you breakfast once I get back.” You gave him a quick nod before making your way to the meeting room.

“I trust that you spent the night thinking about the mission, agent L/N. So, what have you decided?”

You cleared your throat before responding, “One last question, then you’ll have my answer.” Fury briefly nodded, signaling for you to continue, “Of all places within our universe, why there? Titan is within our solar system, wouldn’t it make sense for the avengers to travel there and just..” holding up a two finger gun to your head, you pretend to shoot yourself and die, “y’know? I mean it would save us a lot more time.”

“Well to put it simply, they have technology far more advanced than ours, we need a special weapon in order to carry out the mission.” You hoped that Fury wasn’t referring to THE weapon. If you went, that would mean you’d be forever changing the timeline, and there’d be no way to fix it. But if you didn’t go, Anakin would fulfill his prophecy, he would live the life of a liar, traitor, and puppet. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for letting Anakin suffer.

“Fine, I’m in. When do I leave.”

The flight to Antarctica was long and boring, you would’ve slept but your nerves kept you up. But as you felt the jet land, you couldn’t have been more relieved. You were finally back on land. You could kiss the ice if you wanted to, but chose not to. Who knows what kind of ancient bacteria is lurking.

The entrance to the cave was surrounded by many agents. Although it was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, security was still a top priority. Entering the cave, you clutched the fluffy jacket that was wrapped around your body. You walked in silence, admiring the cave until the agents stopped in front of a hatch.

“This is as far as we can go. Climb down the ladder and follow the path, Fury will be waiting for you.” One of the agents informed you, as the other bent down to open the hatch. Well, here goes nothing.

The first thing you noticed was the change of temperature. Above the hatch, it was freezing, but below it was warmer. Warm enough that you broke out in a slight sweat, but not warm enough to melt the ice. The second thing you noticed was how well lit the passage was, which surprised you. There were lights hanging onto the wall. Hmm, there’s no way they could be solar powered, it's too far underground. They must be powered by the bridge.

You followed the passage, noticing a slight hum that grew louder with every turn you took. Soon, you found yourself in front of a door, a faint green hue escaping from under it. You slowly pushed the door open. The sight in front of your very eyes had you mesmerized. The bridge itself was made of a stone like matter, hovering above the ground. Walking closer to it, you took note of it’s spiral pattern and engravings.

“Welcome agent L/N.” Fury’s loud voice startled you out of your trance.

“The symbols, what do they mean?” You asked

“Well, we're not entirely quite sure what they mean. But we do know that it’s a language of sorts. You see, if you tap the symbols in a specific order, you can travel to a different world or summon a person.” Fury turned to you, handing you a necklace. “It’s a communication, tracking, and code device, all in one. Use it when you need to communicate vital information to us. All the codes you need are in the device, but be weary of using them, any only summon one of us if absolutely needed. It also includes mission details, like the time on Earth and a countdown. If you're not back the day the countdown is done, we will come find you.” He demonstrated how to use the device, pressing a button to bring up Coruscant’s code.

“Now, exactly how does this work ?” You pondered

“It relies on the energy being emitted from the bridge. For it to work, it’s essential that you stay on a planet with a bridge. If not, we won’t be able to track or help you if needed.”

Not another word was uttered as you went to remove your jacket. The black long sleeve shirt along with the black jeans and combat boots you were wearing was going to make you stick out like a sore thumb in the Jedi Temple. Reaching for the device around your throat, you pressed the button. You took a deep breath before touching the first symbol. A warmth began in you, starting from your core, expanding to the tips of your fingers. With each symbol you touched, the vibration of the hum increased. You continued to touch the symbols needed, pausing slightly before touching the last one.

“What now? Do I jus-” There was now a chill in the room, your hair lightly swayed. A small swirl of green mist appeared from behind the bridge, expanding until it filled nearly half of the room. “Do i just walk in..?” Fury nodded. You took hesitant steps towards it, your heart beating louder with each step. Before you fully engulfed yourself into the mist, you turned towards Fury, “If I don’t come back, tell-”

“You’re going to come back. You have to. The avengers, human race, and every inhabitant of the universe is counting on it.” Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded before stepping into the mist.

The further you went in, the less you could feel Fury’s burning stare on the back of your head. As it became weaker, you began to see a concrete wall. You reached out to stabilize yourself, it felt as though you were being kicked out of the bridge. The mist dissipated the second you stepped out of it. Hugging the wall, you look around the concrete room, noticing a heavy look door in front of you. With all your might, you pushed the door open. You began to sluggishly walk down a corridor, tripping over your own feet every couple of seconds. Damn, I really should’ve slept. All of your energy had left your body, and now it felt like you were going crazy as you began to hear a voice in your head.

Who are you? That voice, it sounded so familiar. Too focused on trying to figure out who the voice belonged to, you failed to notice the Jedi running up behind you. It was the ignition of a saber that made you freeze, followed by, “Stop right there! Turn around and face us sith!” Oh, so apparently you were a sith now. You raised your arms up slowly, showing that you weren’t a danger to them. Fully turning around, you were mesmerized to find who was in front of you. Or more like, the crowd in front of you. Your eyes scanned through the familiar faces until you locked eyes with him. His eyes followed your every move, his gaze strong and hard.

“Anakin…” You whispered, your knees buckled, sending you to the ground. Your eyes fluttered close, the exhaustion taking a toll on you. Before you could fully fall asleep, you heard the voice softly respond,

It’s you.

read ch 2 here

omg yall I feel like this sucked ass, I rushed the last couple of paragraphs cause I just really wanted to publish this. I’ll probably come back in the future to edit/rewrite it once I get some stuff sorted out. as of rn I'm thinking of doing a love triangle but idk. Also please tell me how you feel about the title,,, I’m stuck between ‘Borrowed Time’ and ‘Clash’, I only went with the former cause it seemed fitting but I also really like the name ‘Clash’. lmk what you think !!!

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #peter parker x reader #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #star wars #star wars imagine #peter parker #avengers #avengers imagine #tony stark #nick fury #anakin skywalker imagine #peter parker imagine #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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brainsdivided · 4 years

Text

Uncommon Questions for OC’s and Their Creators (1/2)

(Art by Yesjejunus!)

I saw @bloody-fists-beating-hearts and @socksual-innuendos doing it so I’m answering all of them cause I can and I love my boys. Original by @cassandrapentayaaaaas

So I don’t take up someone’s entire dash, peep under cut for it :)

ps. some warning: read tags for any mentions of triggers or things you find uncomfortable, Isaac and Ezekiel have had tough lives and since a lot of that occurs during childhood it may cause some distress for readers.

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs:

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Ezekiel? Never. If it looks like he’s doing nothing, he’s actually daydreaming or bouncing his leg or fiddling with pieces of his clothes. Isaac also cannot sit still. This starts to change as he gets older, but when he moves to Zion he needs to be keeping his mind active on a physical thing, like studying.How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Ezekiel will laugh at just about anything. He’s a child at heart and will crack a giggle and the smallest of things. Even when he’s in combat, you might hear a devilish chuckle. Isaac is different, because of his teenage years, he doesn’t feel as much happiness as he once did. Genuine laughs are rare and at most, he’ll give a weak light-hearted laugh, especially when recalling a good story. For kids, he’ll feign a belly laugh.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Ezekiel never puts himself to bed. It will always be Joshua or Isaac that reads or talks him to sleep just as Courier Six once did. If Ezekiel is alone, he will think himself to sleep. If Joshua is available and not willing to put Ezekiel to bed and depriving him of comfort items, he will scream and cry himself to exhaustion. Isaac has cried and screamed himself to exhaustion on more than one occasion but will never admit it. he does his best to fall asleep to music on the radio or on a holotape.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

It’s not very easy to gain either brothers’ trust. Ezekiel follows the ‘If you’re a friend of theirs, you’re a friend of mine’ phrase. Isaac doesn’t trust anyone completely until he spends enough time around them. He believes everyone has good in them and will give them the benefit of the doubt, BUT he won’t be caught off guard if someone happens to turn on him.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

For either brother, the second you turn on one of them or their family and friends, it’s game over. Ezekiel won’t take verbal or physical acts lightly, but if it’s verbal, Isaac will offer a second chance. He won’t give out a third.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Ezekiel will follow laws that he feels he doesn’t need to break at the time. If he can justify it, including ‘Cause I can, there’s no one to stop me’ he will break it. Isaac follows all laws, even the ones he doesn’t want to. For the ones he doesn’t want to, he’ll find ways to bend them, especially if they’re immoral/unreasonable in his eyes. Best example I can give is in the Legion, not sure if it’s actually a law, but, women are treated as breeding stock and that’s it. Isaac had slaves but would only treat them as such around the other legionaries. Behind closed doors, he cooks for them and looks after them personally. Never once did he use them as breeding stock.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Ezekiel is in almost a complete state of nostalgia constantly as he unconsciously tries to live his old life in Goodsprings in Zion. Good food, sleeping in a quiet camp, hunting, learning from Joshua/father-figure, etc. helps keep him grounded in his world. Isaac often receives nostalgia from intrusive memories, but as a physical thing, probably his appearance. In a fit of fear and rage, he destroyed his mirror and where the river runs next to his home he added extra rocks to help disfigure his reflection when he’s near the water. It brings him great pain to see his own face and body due to the scars he received from the Legion.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Pre-story... Ezekiel was probably told to stop beating up kids for minor offenses and Isaac was probably told to not worry so much about Ezekiel doing dangerous things.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Both swear and neither remember when they first did.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Isaac’s most common lie is the typical “I’m fine.” a lie that isn’t spoken about except when before the story takes place, is that the Courier was very sick, but Isaac, Courier, and Cass made Ezekiel believe otherwise so that Ezekiel could continue to dream of the amazing man his dad once was. Which that in itself would be haunting, because he’s holding up a dam of terrible things. While Ezekiel would constantly say “No.” to the question, “Did you eat anything you weren’t supposed to?” 9/10, he ate something he wasn’t supposed to. That doesn’t haunt him, but he’ll regret lying when he ends up with intestinal obstruction or food poisoning.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

As soon as the confusion hits, depending on the scenario and how he’s feeling he might interrupt the conversation to ask for clarification or he’ll tune out what’s being said so that he can think on his thoughts. Isaac will pretend he understands if the conversation isn’t relating to something dire.

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Isaac will ask his brother or a friend for help but if he’s alone, he’ll use a stick or his wall. Ezekiel will go up to anyone and ask, but if not, he’ll turn into a yao gui and rub his back on anything. GOTTA GET THAT ITCH.

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Ezekiel likes orange and Isaac likes white. I think they could both pull off black. Anyone can, black is a flattering color but who would want to wear that in the desert sun?

What animal do they fear most?

Ezekiel doesn’t have a lot of fear towards any creature, but I’d say feral ghouls or Deathclaws and Isaac fears spore carriers.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Ezekiel will always say what comes to mind. Isaac will think before he speaks.

What makes their stomach turn?

I’ve got nothing for Ezekiel, but Isaac would barf if he smelled or saw a rotting corpse.

Are they easily embarrassed?

Ezekiel is fine being quirky but there are some situations that makes him a radstag in flashlight. Isaac feels more shame than embarrassment.

What embarrasses them?

Ezekiel has been known to wet the bed even into early adulthood. Also, while he is fine playing with kid-oriented items, depending on his current emotion and he’s made fun of, he’ll either respond with embarrassment or anger. Isaac gets second-hand embarrassment from Ezekiel’s behaviors sometimes. He once wet the bed and was caught by Daniel when doing laundry but it was agreed to never be brought up or mentioned again. He mostly feels embarrassment/shame when doing or caught using chems.

What is their favorite number?

Ezekiel’s is the number 6 because Courier Six was his dad. Isaac does not have a favorite number.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Oh boy. Ezekiel might not be able to tell the difference. He might just say that romantic love makes ‘funny things happen’ so to speak even as an adult. All three might overlap for him. Though I guess it would depend on the person reading since my RP partner did not like when I had Ezekiel be affectionate towards Joshua (Hugging and asking to share a bed) as ‘boys don’t always ask their dads for hugs or to sleep with them, it’s inappropriate’ but if daughters can do that with their mothers, who cares?

Isaac would go on a long shpeel about the psychology of romantic, platonic, and familial love, I’m too tired to write how he’d explain it.

Why do they get up in the morning?

Ezekiel gets up because it’s a new day and the second he opens his eyes, he’s a ball of energy! Breakfast. Also breakfast. Isaac gets up for the people he loves and for the people who need him.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Ezekiel gets vocal. He’ll make sure you know that you’re spending too much of his time around his brother or Joshua. Isaac will get quiet.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

Ezekiel will take what he wants/intervene. Isaac might get bitter about it, but he’ll remind himself that there are others that are more important or who need it more.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

Their thoughts on this is pretty similar regardless of age, but speaking from age ranges 18-23, Ezekiel doesn’t really understand it, so he’ll talk to anyone about it. When he does, he’s blunt about it, too which makes for some comedic relief when Joshua is involved in the conversation. Isaac won’t really talk about it if he’s involved. If he does, it’s with Daniel or with whoever he ends up sleeping with. If it’s in a medical context, it doesn’t matter the person.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

Ezekiel doesn’t have an opinion on marriage, but his brother and godfather would feel as though he isn’t ready for a relationship, yet. Isaac likes when others get married, but he himself does not feel worthy of a steady relationship.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Walking.

What causes them to feel dread?

When Ezekiel gets caught doing something he shouldn’t by Joshua. Isaac - when it’s night, his generator dies, and when his radio stops working simultaneously or when Daniel forbade him that one time from studying and working because he nearly worked himself to death.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Both would want the truth, but Ezekiel believes in a lie that his brother and mother once told.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Ezekiel believes he’s the best at almost everything and Isaac knows he could do better, but it’s too late.

Who do they most regret meeting?

N/A

Who are they the most glad to have met?

locating Joshua was Ezekiel’s primary goal when running from Goodsprings so I’d imagine that he’d be glad to have found him. Isaac’s could be either Daniel or an unnamed Legion girl.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Ezekiel would try to talk casually about his parents’ death and of the crimes he’s committed. Isaac doesn’t have a go-to.

Could they be considered lazy?

Yes and no. To others, they’d be lazy, but Isaac has depression and insomnia, and Ezekiel’s behavior is similar to a child so he may just be stubborn.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

If the guilt was brought on by Joshua, Ezekiel would need some reassurance directly from him to fix it. Isaac is constantly ridden with guilt.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Both are supportive!

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

Neither seeks romance. Isaac might look for partners for one night stands, but that’s it.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Both are very good at matching names to faces, but Ezekiel uses his fingers to count and sometimes uses melodies. Isaac likes to file things.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

So far that’s been thought of, Ezekiel revisits the death of his parents most often and Isaac revisits the possible events that led up to him becoming a decanus.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Ezekiel is willing to forget them if they didn’t directly wrong him. Isaac never forgets, he just chooses to overlook them but still keeping them in mind.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Ezekiel never really recognizes his flaws until they’re pointed out. As he gets older though he does start to acknowledge them more. A scene I’ve thought of is when he’s 22 and still playing with children’s toy soldiers. He plays with them with little enthusiasm, abandoning his amusements not by choice. Isaac is aware of his flaws but doesn’t try to better them, but instead tries to better others.

How do they feel about children?

Ezekiel at times believes he is a child, and will try to engage with other children. Some find it creepy but those that know him are fine with it because they know he has good intentions. Isaac is passionate about children and will protect them with his life. While escaping the legion, he had recruits younger than him that he helped escape, some ending up being adopted out to Dead Horse, Sorrows, and New Canaanite families. Even in the Legion, Isaac showed all children he came across respect and kindness.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

Neither truly has an end goal. Isaac wants to see the Legion end in a way where it’s people can recover as quickly as possible, so by working with the Followers of the Apocalypse, he can help out stragglers. Ezekiel just wants to become someone Joshua can be proud of. Be the son he never had and never expected to have.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Isaac would say that he used to be attracted to women, but because he spent so much time around women who loved and cherished him for his kindness, he’d find it wrong to date someone who only loved that he was kind to them. He still finds women attractive, just not enough to act on it. As for men, he could tell you who is handsome, but in a platonic way.

Ezekiel couldn’t tell for the longest time what he was attracted to, but in an alternative story line, when he thought it was women, he ended up finding himself feeling more for a man.

#Isaac cassidy #ezekiel cassidy #fallout new vegas #Joshua graham #daniel #honest hearts #tw: child neglect #tw: child abuse #tw: slavery #tw: scars #tw: parental death #tw: drugs

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vgckwb · 4 years

Text

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 1: The Whims of Chaos

Amamiya Ren was on her way to Tokyo. She had short messy hair, black-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a grey shirt, with a black jacket, a navy blue skirt, white socks, and a pair of black Mary Janes. She had fallen asleep on the train. In her mind, she could only see one thing. That night. She was on her way home for the evening when she heard a woman crying out for help. She was scared, yet knew she had to be brave. She raced towards the sound to see a violent bald man trying to force a woman into a car.

The man turned to her. ”What are you looking at?” he asked. “Move along!” Ren knew she couldn’t.

“Stop!” the woman cried.

The man glared at her. “Impudent people like you should do as I say and follow where I steer this country!” He turned back to Ren. “Well?! What are you waiting for?! Leave!”

That was the last straw for Ren. She was sick of jerks like him thinking they could control everything on a whim. She had to put a stop to it. She stepped between the woman and the man, splitting them up.

The man was clearly drunk, and after stumbling for a little bit, he fell and hit his head on the sidewalk. He got up, and he was bleeding. “Damn brat! I’ll SUE!”

Ren was confused. “You fell on your own,” she said.

“Silence!” he yelled. “You’re going to regret this!”

The woman that Ren had saved spoke up meekly. “I’ll-I’ll tell the police.”

The man looked at the woman he was trying to trap and grinned. “Go ahead. I have the police, the judges, and the lawyers under my thumb. They aren’t going to believe you anyway.”

As if they were dogs on a leash, two police officers came up. “Is something the matter?” one of them asked. He noticed the man that Ren only knew as vulgar. “Oh, it’s you sir. Are you alright?”

“Well, tell them,” the man said.

The woman looks hesitantly at Ren. Tears formed, as if it were meant to be an apology. She turned to the officers and barely choked out “This young girl...assaulted this man…”

Ren was shocked. “It is as she says” the man says. “Arrest her!’

“Yes sir!” the officer said.

“Oh, and, please be sure to leave my name out of it,” the man added.

“Yes sir!” the officer said. The two officers arrested Ren before she could process everything that was going on. After which, she was let off on parole, but her parents felt that living in their quaint little town wouldn’t do her any good. They offered her to stay with a friend of theirs; a man by the name of Sojiro Sakura.

That moment was all that Ren could dream about ever since it happened. It played over and over again in her head. Until it stopped. Her mind faded to black. She then saw an image that would make sense for a dream, but it felt all too real.

There stood an image of a white metallic angel “What are you doing here?! I am creating order!”

Ren notices a figure in a cloak. “Well, if that’s what you’re trying to do, then it’s no wonder why I’m here!”

“Pardon?” asked the angel-looking thing.

“I think this country is just about done with order” the cloaked figure says. She holds up her hand and summons a rapier that was adorned in gold. “I think it's time for chaos to reign!” With one motion, the cloaked figure slices the white metallic angel thing in two.

Ren was then hit with a barrage of strange images. A castle morphing into a town. A museum being covered by police tape. A bank landing from the sky into a highly stylized city. A pyramid gaining an eye and omitting a cursed aura. A space station turning into a post-apocalypse. A casino shifting into a fashion show. A ship being shrunk down and turned into a prop. Lastly, she saw the Tokyo underground change into a garden.

Ren was having trouble processing all of this. The cloaked figure then looks at Ren. “Hm?” they say. “Oh darling, you’re here a bit early.” Ren was confused. “Or perhaps, it’s not early for you.” They laughed. “I AM the manifestation of chaos after all. It would only stand to reason that the you here now isn’t the you of the present time.”

Ren glared at them. “Yes, I see” they continued. “This is the you I am interested in. The you of now is nothing more than a middle school girl, enjoying life as much as she possibly can; blissfully unaware of what is about to occur. You is the you of my future.”

Ren was confused by these words. Does this mean that this is in the past. If so, why am I seeing it? And why is this figure talking to me anyway? This is supposed to be a dream, right?

“If I am correct, you recently got arrested for a crime you didn’t commit, correct?” the cloaked figure asked. Ren was shocked. “Heh heh. So I was right.” The figure took out an apple. “Here” they said. “You’ve seen what I just did to Yaldabaoth, correct? Well, with a bite of this apple, all that power can also be yours.”

Ren was shocked. What did they just say? I could have that power?

“You want revenge, right?” the figure asked. “I can give that to you and more. With one bite, your inhibition will be released, and revenge will be yours for the taking. You will be able to punish that guy that had you arrested and make him pay!”

Ren was certainly tempted. Everyone back home was labeling her a criminal. It sounded nice to be able to shake that. However, something about this didn’t sit right with her. “What’s in it for you?” she asked.

The figure giggled. “Well, there are certainly some benefits to be gained on my end. Another agent of chaos for starters. And a powerful one at that. But more importantly, the one who summoned me has taken quite an interest in you.”

Ren was understandably confused. “Summoned?”

“Ah yes” the figure said. “The nature of my existence is complicated at best. I have always existed, and yet I have yet to exist. I am here in your past because you were there in her future.”

Ren was further confused. Then again, this figure did call itself the manifestation of chaos. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to think that this powerful chaos could do something like that. “So. What do you say?” the figure asked.

Ren was almost tempted to accept this offer. Being shipped out of her home because of a false report by a powerful asshole sucks. Ren thought that with this power, she could enact her revenge and clear her name.

However, a voice in her mind spoke to her. “Don’t!” it said. Ren was shocked. The figure was displeased. The voice in her mind continued. “Their definition of revenge is nothing short of death! The power they will grant you will corrupt you into becoming someone you are not! You will become a violent, ruthless, killing machine! You will become the very thing you hate! Someone who abuses their power to get what they want!”

Ren heard the voice. She stood against the figure and glared at it. “Hm. I see you have your answer!” they said. “Very well. But know this! I expect a thank you!” Ren was confused.

“See, the figure I just slayed, Yaldaboath, was setting you up to play in an unfair game” the figure explained. “They were forcing you into a situation in which you were supposed to lose in order to spread its idea of order to the masses. Of course, I am more forgiving than that. We are still going to play a game. However, this time, it will be fair.”

The figure smirked. “I have no intention of losing. I just won’t stack the deck against you is all. If we were to fight now, you would surely lose. But by journey’s end, I fully expect a fair fight. In the meantime, I shall be going about my business, all the while making sure you’re ready when the time comes. Do you have a deal?” Ren nodded. “Good. I shall see you on the other side. The figure bowed, and the entire scenery faded.

Ren woke up on the train. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was beating out of her chest. “What was that?” she wondered. She checked her phone for the time, and saw something else that confused her. A mysterious app that was red and pulsating. “I don’t remember installing this,” she pondered. She gasped. “Could this be part of the ‘game’? But, that wasn’t real, was it?”

Ren tried figuring out what had just happened for the remainder of her ride. But much to her dismay, there wasn’t anything she could figure out besides what she was told. “Now arriving in Yongen-Jaya!” the announcer said. Ren gasped. This was her stop. She figured she could worry about agents of chaos and someone who could slice a giant metal angel thing in two as easily as they could breathe later. For now, she had to meet up with one Sojiro Sakura.

She managed to find Sojiro’s house, but no one answered when she rang the bell. She found this curious, so she decided to ask around. She found out Sojiro runs a cafe named Le Blanc.

She found Le Blanc and entered. She saw an old couple sitting at a booth, as well as a middle-aged man wearing a pink shirt, tan pants, and a green apron. “This is the best coffee we’ve had here, Sakura-san” the old man in the booth said.

“Why thank you” said the man Ren deduced had to be Sojiro.

“Excuse me?” Ren said.

“Hm?” said Sakura-san.

“Are you by chance, Sojiro Sakura?” Ren asked.

“Huh? Yeah” he said. There was a bit of a silence. “Oh, you’re-” Sojiro sighed. “Sorry. I forgot that was today.”

Ren smiled. “It’s alright.”

“Boss, who is this girl?” the old mad asked.

“I mean, I know you're something of a ladies’ man, but isn’t she a bit young for you?” the old woman asked.

Sojiro was stunned. “I-It’s not like that,” he said, defensively.

“Well, we should probably get going,” the old man said.

The old lady nodded. “It seems Sakura-san is busy,” she replied. The two paid for their coffee and left.

Sojiro sighed. Ren smirked. “So” she said. She posed provocatively and said “Ladies’ man, huh?”

Sojiro glared at her. “Shut up.” Ren returned to her normal posture and giggled. “Anyway, come upstairs.” Ren followed Sojiro up to a messy attic. “This will be your room for your time in Tokyo.”

Ren looked at him confused. “I’m not staying with you?”

“Well…” Sojiro said. He sighed. “Look, things are complicated at my place.”

“Too many women coming over?” Ren said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Sojiro glared at her. “Look. I agreed to take care of you. Please keep your smart aleck remarks to a minimum.”

“Sorry,” Ren said.

Sojiro sighed. “No, it’s understandable. From what I understand, your situation is a bit hectic to say the least. You’re just trying to keep your spirits up. But please, if you can help it, don’t do it at my expense.”

“OK,” said Ren.

Sojiro smiled. “Anyway, I’m sorry your room is in the condition it’s in. I would have cleaned it more, but stuff got in the way.” Sojiro looked at Ren. He smiled. “A fast learner? I like that. It’s sure to help you live a regular school life.” Ren nodded.

“Anyways, I need to get home. I have matters I need to attend to. I’m sure you can clean enough to get yourself situated for the night. That corner over there is where your mattress is. That might be a good place to start. I’ll make you some curry, and then you can get started.”

The two of them walked down stairs. Sojiro made Ren some curry for dinner, and served her some coffee. To Ren’s surprise and delight, they were both delicious. Ren thanked Sojiro for the meal. Sojiro nodded and then left for his place.

Ren then headed back upstairs and cleaned what would be her room for the next year or so. There was a lot, so she had to prioritize. She started with the bed, and then organized some shelf space for her luggage that was to come to her later. She figured she could get the rest of it later. For now, she was tired, and decided to go to bed.

Ren reflected on what had happened today on the train. It seems like a complete work of fiction. And yet, it felt so real. She then took out her phone and looked at the app she had gotten. And this app. This is proof positive that what I witnessed was real. At least to some extent. All of this is a lot to take in. Maybe I can figure it out after a good night’s rest. Ren closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

However, she should have known. A dream is what got her caught up in this in the first place. Another dream just might continue it. Ren awoke in a jail cell. However, the door to her cell was nowhere to be found. She walked up to the door and saw a room surrounded by more cells. In the middle was a strange man with a long nose. Standing at his side was a young girl with a book.

“Welcome. To the Velvet Room” the man said. “Do not be alarmed. You are fast asleep in your own world. My name is Igor. My associate here is Lavenza.”

“I assume you have a lot of questions,” Lavenza said. “We are here to be of assistance.”

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #persona fanfiction #ren amamiya #Female ren #FeMC #p5 FeMC #sojiro sakura #igor #Lavenza #p5r rework

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fuckedurbias · 4 years

Note

hey, can i request the smut tag thingy with got7 mark?? thank youuu

a = aftercare

mmmmm mark would be soft and caring in his own way. he wouldn’t do or say much, just bring his partner a wipe/towel, whatever they needed to clean up and quickly wipe himself up as well. he’d then slide back under the covers quickly and softly rub their cheeks or back and play with their hair until they fell asleep. if the sex occurred earlier in the day he’d quietly slide away while his partner cleaned themselves up on their own and bring them back their favourite snack and some water and then they’d just watch a movie and/or nap for a little while.

b = body part

100% an ass man. he’d love his partners ass and would always wanna smack it, squeeze it, grab it, rub it or even just look at it. he’d get so turned on just thinking about it. he’d also love his partners collarbones, he doesn’t know why, he’d just love the look of them,,,,,,especially when he has left marks are all over them.

on himself, he’d love his arms; so long and toned. the way they tense up and you can see the muscles and tendons working when he’s using his hands on his partner and they way they so easily can hold and wrap around so much of them. also his jaw!!! he fucking loves his jaw, the way his partner softly kisses & licks along it, the way it tenses when he’s aroused, the way it opens and closes during make out sessions and when he’s giving head.

c = cum

he’s a pretty neat cummer, not liking to leave any more mess than necessary, though sometimes when he’s really horny and feeling a little bit risky, he’ll come on his partner’s chest/back just for funsies. he also doesn’t really like to swallow/lick up his partner’s cum, he just doesn’t enjoy the taste or get any enjoyment from it however if it will save cleaning up and make things easier, or just turns his partner on, then he will happily do so.

d = dirty secret

he loves dirty texting over the phone,,,, just letting his mind run wild with thoughts and fantasies of what he will do to his partner and vice versa, he would just get off on the fact that everyone else around him has no idea about what vulgar, sinful things him & his partner are texting about right in front of their faces. and getting to go home/to his partner’s place afterwards or even the next day/later in the week and finally getting to act on the messages would be so fun to him.

e = experience

oh i think he’s very experienced, it’s always the quiet + sneakier ones. just his vibes, he gets LOADS of action a lot i think,, no i KNOW he’d definitely know what he’s doing. and it’d b so cute if his partner was less experienced then he was bc he’d be so gentle and would take care of them so well :(

f = favourite position

i feel like he’d def be a fan of the cowgirl (no matter the gender), his partner riding him and getting themselves off on him while he does the bare minimum and just gets to sit there in awe. whether it’s reversed or forward, he wouldn’t care. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,also doggy style,,,,,,,,,,,,, preferably with his partner’s hair being pulled back or shoved into the pillows,,,,,,,,,,,, either or.

g = goofy

hmmmm i feel like if mark has sex he likes it to be pretty serious and intimate, but obviously if something silly happens by accident he’ll laugh about it but yeah, i feel like he prefers to be serious. he may let out a few chuckles but they definitely won’t be out of humour,,, more due to the fact that seeing his partner such a mess is so cute to him.

h = hair

i feel like mark likes to keep himself pretty neat and tidy, sometimes he will shave depending on how new the relationship is or if he’s going out and hoping to get frisky with someone,, but most of the time he can’t be bothered and if he’s comfortable with the person he will probably just trim it and nothing more than that.

i = intimacy

as i said before, mark would love to be as intimate & personal as possible during sexy times. he wouldn’t necessarily make it romantic every time, he would save that for special occasions but during the act he would just love to hold his partner close and show them that he likes to make them feel good, that it also makes him feel good and would just love to remind his partner that they are his and he is theirs.

j = jack off

mmmmm i think he would jack off sometimes, not a lot if he had a partner or just easily accessible booty call to get his rocks off. he would rather just let out his horniness through the actual thing rather than just himself and his hand, obviously unless he was on tour or was just too busy for a while and wasn’t able to fuck anyone.

k= kink

he’s pretty vanilla i feel,,, but not in the typical way, just he doesn’t have many kinks or a kink he considers his fave, he’s chill w most things!! he would still have a few little kinks he enjoys, like giving praise, dirty talk and essentially anything his partner likes at the time tbh.

l = location

in the comfort of a goddamn bedroom, he would hate doing it anywhere other than either his or his partners private rooms/houses. he would sometimes and i mean - very rarely - do it in the dorms with the other members if him and/or his partner are going wild with hormones but that’s a very rare and treasured treat, but yes otherwise exclusively an enclosed & private area.

m = motivation

like i said before, sexting or just even thinking about doing things to someone/his partner. or seeing his partners ass all cooped up in them jeans or just the ass in general,,, mmm he’d love that.

n = NO

honestly i can’t see anything mark refusing anything straight out he’d be pretty open to anything his partner suggests or wants to try, unless he finds it really gross and off putting from the get go, but even then there’s nothing specific and nothing he wouldn’t at least try once.

o = oral

giving!! 100% prefers giving, ofc he loves receiving too but he just loves giving and seeing his partner become so weak because of him. even more so because he knows hes so good at it without even trying.

p = pace

definitely more slow and sensual, even on days where he’s more rough he isn’t really fast. it’s not that he can’t do it he just prefers to drag it out and make it as deep and intimate and close to his partner as possible, wanting it to always be passionate, intense & personal even if its rougher, kinkier sex.

q = quickie

mark wouldn’t be a fan of quickies, especially since he liked any kind of sex to be more private, but if it had to be done it had to be done. if either him or his partner couldn’t wait he’d take them to a private bathroom/toilet & would go no further than oral or fingering/handjobs, it would suffice until they could go back home and go all the way for hours.

r = risk

definitely game to experiment with different people and different things, liking to try almost everything and figuring out what he likes for himself with as many options as possible (obviously being safe & consensual).

s = stamina

oh he can definitely go for a long time, wanting to make his partner come as many times as possible before he even finishes once, even during foreplay he doesn’t usually come and stops his partner giving him head so he can just get into the sex. due to this though, he doesn’t usually go for many rounds after unless his partner wants to, sometimes one or two if it’s been a while but usually just the one. but it’s rare that his partner will want to, already having came so many times at once.

t = toy

i don’t think he’d know much about toys or have any, unless his partner had them and wanted to use them on him or wanted mark to use the toys on them. once experimenting with them though, he’d definitely fuck with cock rings & stuff that stimulates him & enhances the experience/orgasms like that, and he’d like when his partner uses them on him. he’d love having fun using toys on his partner too, just experimenting with all of them on each other.

u = unfair

hmm i would say mark likes to tease because of what we see but i think he wouldn’t actually enjoy teasing, he’d just outright say to his partner ‘i wanna fuck’ and when his partner teased, they would not be doing so for long at all. i don’t think he’d enjoy teasing because if he wants something he wants it fast, especially when it comes to sex - especially when his partner is right there with him or close by.

v = volume

he wouldn’t be loud or make many sounds, more of a heavy breather, with gasps & groans (and sometimes breathy moans oh fuck imagine that)

w = wild card

okay hear me out.

phone sex.

okay thank you

x = x-ray

he is honestly packing nicely, more on the thinner but longer side but not by much. average length & just under average girth but definitely no issue, he can use it very very well.

y = yearning

i think fresh into a relationship or even courting, his sex drive would be pretty high but would lessen to be normal as it the relationship advanced. if he wasn’t in a relationship & just had booty calls or hooks up/one night stands, it’d be just above normal like any single adult, just going with the flow kinda vibe.

z = zzz

i don’t think he’d like to fall asleep straight away afterwards, even at night time. he’d like to cool down afterwards, getting his heart rate & breathing back to normal; watching tv or scrolling on his phone as his partner cuddles with him - fast asleep. he’d fall asleep soon after, snuggling them back.

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lunaschild2016 · 4 years

Text

No Ordinary Love: Part 2 - Dangerous night

An Eric Coulter / Original Character Romance (Formerly Take Your Time)

Rated M: Explicit, Smut, Romance, Angst, Language, Implied Abuse and Addiction

Character Inspiration/Face Claims:

Eric Coulter: Jai Courtney

Lacey Matheson: Phoebe Tonkin (Hayley from Originals)

Summary: Theirs was not an ordinary love. After all, you’re not supposed to fall in love with someone you consider as family, even you don’t share the same blood. But they were in each other’s veins too deep. They only had one night together. One night to be shameless and to finally act on the feelings that had haunted them for longer than either could admit. Afterward, the only thing left to do was to pick up their pieces. Eric/OC AU No War No Divergents

[Sorry in advance if the read more glitches and shows entire post]

Part 2- Dangerous Night

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am a man on fire

You

A violent desire

What a dangerous night to fall in love

Don’t know why we still hide what we’ve become

Do you wanna cross the line?

We’re running out of time

A dangerous night to fall in love

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eric

At some point over the last few years, someone within the city government had come up with a brilliant idea to bring back old traditions and celebrations that died out after the wars and disasters that brought civilization as it had been to a halt. Each faction was encouraged to take part. Sometimes this was done as interfaction events while others, each faction did their own thing and kept to themselves.

Some of these traditions and celebrations weren’t all that bad. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and New Year were among the most commonly recognized occasions and had already had some levels of celebration in most of the factions before they were resurrected citywide.

Others, like Valentine's Day and Halloween, were complete nightmares and Eric cursed Max for ever agreeing to bring them back in the first place. Eric had been fully against it and voted them down when he was still just Second in Command. Max, being the Senior leader made the final decision and cast his vote for the holidays to be full of faction celebrations, with costumes and everything. Then the bastard retired and left the entire mess for Eric to deal with when he took the Senior Leader position.

That was three years ago now and it’s been a huge damn headache for him ever since. Like Dauntless really needed a reason to act like a bunch of asses or an excuse for a night of drunken debauchery? The only difference between every other day in the faction and Halloween were the costumes everyone dressed up in.

The only good part of the damn holiday for Eric was the surprising amount of revenue it produced for Dauntless. Out of all the factions in the city, Candor and Amity decided to celebrate Halloween as well and hold separate festivities in their own factions. Because Dauntless seemed to do so well on their own costumes and decorations, those two factions put in requests to buy them.

The costumes for Amity and Candor were a bit less scandalous than what Dauntless, or the female portion at least, leaned towards. There was a variety of ‘sexy’ everything, from nurses to nuns.

But it wasn’t just the adults that got to play. The kids weren’t left out and during the day the entire compound had different things set up for them, like games with prizes, trick or treating, and even a haunted house. Things wrapped up for the dependents with a special dinner held in the dining hall. As soon as the dinner wrapped up and nighttime fell, it became all about the adults.

No dependents allowed.

Eric had to set boundaries and enforce some rules, like no public sex or orgies, but otherwise, it wasn’t as bad as it could be. While he did attend the various celebrations he refused to dress up in any way.

No one expected him to either, not even Lacey. Even though she always dressed up for this holiday. They had established their own traditions and she was always with him for the day, which made things much more bearable to him. Except for this year, she wasn’t and it showed in Eric’s mood.

He did try to not be a complete dick though because there was still Wade with him. It’s his last year as a dependent so he had been excited about his last Halloween in Dauntless. They made a guys night of it. Hitting up some of the games for the older kids, the rock climbing wall, and the games that involved shooting or throwing darts and knives for prizes. They finished it off with the dinner in the dining hall that was heavy on the sweets. Then Wade went off with some of his friends where they were going to be holding their own night time party safe behind closed doors of an apartment. Eric was pretty sure someone was going to sneak in some booze but he just shrugged and told Wade he was old enough to make the choice but warned him to not overdo it if he did indulge.

As the time got closer when all the kids would be ushered back home so the adults could have their turn, Eric’s mood started to turn even sourer. He tried not to but he couldn’t help it when he thought of why Lacey wasn’t with him like she always was.

Because she had a fucking date. She didn’t actually say that was why she was bailing on him, but what else could it be?

The more he thought about that the more he drank and the worse his mood became.

He had been so sure he took care of the last guy that had been sniffing around Lacey. His name was Aaron and he worked in the armory. He was a pretty boy with blonde hair and a deep tan that just looked odd to Eric but all the girls seemed to drool over. They called it a ‘ surfer look ’. The punk had a reputation for being a charmer but wasn’t exactly a player. His thing seemed to be going after the girls that were labeled as hard to get. The ones that might not be so ready to give him the time of day, were already involved, or in Lacey’s case...a well known good girl and a rumored virgin. It was also known that she was a bit of a social hermit. Lacey was not one to go out and party much and could usually be found at home hanging out with her family or friends.

Word got back to Eric that Aaron had his sights set on Lacey and he had been heard to say he was going to take on the ‘goliath’ of the faction. Eric almost lost it when Four, who is his Second in Command now, told him what he overheard one night. The only reason Four told him at all was that he didn’t want to see Lacey get hurt. Normally Four was the one lecturing him that Eric needed to back off and let Lacey make her own decisions about who she wanted to date. He kept reminding him that she’s an adult, at twenty years old, and the more overbearing Eric became the more likely she was to do the exact opposite of what he wanted just to spite him. It hadn’t been hard to see that at least this last part was right because there was a definite distance between them that had been growing wider this last year.

It killed him to think it, but he knew he needed to let her go.

Despite knowing this he couldn’t just let her be a conquest and neither could Four. So Four and he came up with a plan to intimidate him into backing off without actually threatening him or telling him outright that was what he needed to do. They executed this plan one day at lunch where they sat at the same table as Aaron. Eric was directly across from him while Four took the space beside him.

The table got quiet when the two main leaders of the faction sat down. There was an immediate tension in the air and those at the table knew that someone must have done something to bring their attention to them, which couldn’t end well for whoever the poor soul was. It didn’t take long for others to realize who the person was, Eric’s very cold and piercing glare said it all. Aaron was obviously aware of the attention on him but Eric could tell he was fighting hard to not let his unease show.

Four got things started for them, as planned.

“Hey, Eric. Isn’t it about time to add fresh blood to the fence rotation?” Four asks offhandedly as if it just occurred to him.

Eric couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed his face. “Yep. It should be easy to fill in this year.”

Four smirked a little too. “Oh yeah? So we have a few victims...errr...I mean volunteers?”

Eric shrugged. “There are always a few of those. Then there are always those guys that find themselves on the fence after deciding it would be a good idea to go mess with things or people they have no business messing with. Guys that like to jerk around girls in ways that, should someone important to them find out, would think fence duty is getting off lightly.” He had started out casually but continued in a quiet menacing tone.

Aaron got the point. Eric could tell by the subtle swallow and tense shifting. He had to give it to the punk that he didn’t up and run away immediately. Aaron sat there for a few ticks before standing and after a respectful nod towards the two leaders, he walked away leaving his still full tray on the table.

That had been that. He never heard about Aaron and Lacey again and hadn’t seen them together either. So where the fuck was she at tonight?

Eric restlessly roams around the Pit looking for her without trying to acknowledge that’s what he’s doing. He makes his rounds to the different parties being hosted by people he knows, making his customary appearance to let them all know he has his eyes on things and they better not fuck up. When that’s done he decides to head to his favorite club to have a few more drinks at the bar there. He’s actually looking forward to a special brew they were having brought in fresh from Amity. He was told it’s somewhat of a beer but is actually more of a boozy spiced apple cider.

He orders one and licks his lips in pleasure after a few big draws from the cold glass thinking that he might want to see about getting more of it throughout the year, it’s that good. He can already tell it’s going to be the kind of drink that packs a punch that the person drinking it won’t notice because it just tastes that damn good. Eric’s one glass down when he orders another right after and realizes he might need to take his own advice and go easy if the buzzing in his blood is any indication of how potent it is. He’s in mid-drink and letting his eyes roam over the club when he realizes it’s not a drink that has his skin feeling electrified...it’s Lacey. She’s near.

She has that effect on him and has for a few years now. Just her being near and his body lights up. It’s like his blood became thick and heavy, pulsing with liquid fire and metal. Lacey was like a magnet and she pulled him towards her every time.

He narrows his eyes, scanning the crowds more thoroughly but not seeing her. At least, he wasn’t registering what he was seeing at first when his eyes locked onto one person that he just knew was her but couldn’t wrap his mind around how she looked.

Lacey stood just across the room from him at a high top bar table with a glass of something in her hand and carrying on a conversation with some dude he couldn’t recognize because of his own costume. If he didn’t have the awareness of her that he does he would never have believed it could be her.

Lacey always took part in dressing up for Halloween but she was never one to go with the outrageously skimpy outfits most of the other women went with. Sometimes they were outrageously nerdy, like when she crafted an entire armor set that resembled ones from a pre-war game they both liked to play called Mass Effect. Eric even helped her with it after she bribed him to. Then there was the year she and Wade decided to wear matching costumes but let Wade choose what they would be of. He picked Guardians of the Galaxy with Lacey going as Gamora and him being Starlord. They had made Eric a very small name tag that said Drax the Destroyer on it. He wore the damn thing but only because it was about the only acceptable way he would ever consider dressing up.

The point was, she never went for overtly sexy costumes. That wasn’t the point for her. It was all about having fun picking it out and making it herself and it was always something that she had an interest or love for. And Eric fucking loved that about her because it showed she hadn’t lost that side of her where she was free to be a kid at heart. He loved that she gave no fucks about what everyone else was going to think of her costume, all that mattered was if she liked it. What Lacey was in tonight was so far removed from years past it had his head spinning.

She is in one of the almost obscenely skimpy ones that Dauntless produces and sells. It’s made up of a crop top corset with a cap-sleeved crop peasant shirt underneath and way too damn short skirt. That’s all paired with black thigh highs with intricate lace bands at the top that are clearly showing because the skirt is that short, and ends in black ankle high heeled boots. Her already long legs are showcased by the combination of bare skin and sheer black hose.

The theme of the costume is clearly Little Red Riding Hood and it came complete with a small deep-red hooded cape. The rich red color highlighted her skin tone perfectly. She didn’t stop there with the additions to her costume though, it looked like she decided to go all out. Over her face, she wore a black lace filigree masquerade mask that did a good job obscuring her features enough that no one would instantly know it was her. Covering her deep brown hair she wore a blood-red wig that he could admit complemented her skin but still couldn’t hold a candle to the color of her own hair.

He didn’t know why she was here, what she was doing and who the hell she was with, but one thing he was certain of was that Lacey had obviously gone far out of her way to not be recognized at all. Even the fact that she was here of all places with none of her friends anywhere near hinted that this was all done with a purpose.

Lacey tilts her head back and laughs at something being said by the guy chatting her up and it hits Eric what the purpose of her entire get-up is about when he realizes she’s obviously flirting.

What the fuck! This isn’t at all like Lacey.

He’s debating how to put a stop to this when he sees the asshole she’s with gesturing to her cup and saying something. He must be asking her if she wants a refill. She hesitates for a moment, biting her lower lip in thought before she hands him the cup with a nod. Eric zeroes on the guy, watching his every move as he walks to the bar with a smile and asks for two refills. Because there’s no way he’s taking his eyes off him or letting him leave with his girl, he also watches as the guy makes a subtle movement over the top of one of the glasses and lets something drop into it before he turns and heads back to Lacey with the cups.

Oh Hell no!

Eric has to push aside the rage, knowing they need to act quickly. He taps on the bar and gives the bartender a pointed glare who recognizes it for what it means. Then Eric is flanked by the bartender as he makes his way over to Lacey where he then waits for Eric’s further instructions just a few steps away from them where they will take care of the rest after Eric makes sure Lacey is safe.

By the time Eric made it over there she’s just lifting the cup to take a drink but still hasn’t made contact yet. He reaches out and snatches it from her hands while snarling at the guy to back off. He didn’t really expect that he would get any back talk and he doesn’t. The guy might have even squeaked a little as he backed up into the waiting hands of the bar staff. “You know where to take him, make sure you get this tested too,” Eric instructs the staff after he hands over the glass.

Then Eric takes a breath before turning to face Lacey, finally.

“Do you always accept drinks from random men?” He growled out angrily.

Her eyes widen and he notices now that he’s up close she also added colored contacts. They are a solid bright green color.

Why is she going to such lengths to disguise herself?

“I...I don't normally do any of this.” Her tone changed from the first gasped word. She changed the inflection to be deeper, husky...more seductive.

It had his jaw clenching and his nostrils flaring. Being this close to her in that state is wreaking havoc on his body and control.

“Little tip for you then, Red. Never accept open container drinks and never leave your drink unattended. Period. But especially someone you don’t know the first thing about.” He moved closer as he spoke and smirked when Lacey unconsciously moved back. She had already been practically against the wall and now her back was solidly pressed up against it.

He knew he should back off, especially given how he’s feeling right now. Seeing her with that guy and dressed the way she is fired up the possessive and jealous feelings he normally fights so hard to contain. But her pull is just too damn strong and he’s too worked up to resist allowing himself to move in closer. So damn close that his body is now crowding hers in. He lifts his arms and plants them to either side of her shoulders, blocking her in and brushing his body against hers.

He watches her throat work as she swallows nervously then she takes a breath and opens her mouth to speak..but nothing happens at first. “Mary…” She whispers shakily. Eric tilts his head and pulls back enough to look at her a bit better, frowning and not understanding what she said. “My name’s Mary.” Lacey’s voice has a bit more volume now but it’s still uncertain and has an edge to it, one he recognizes all too well when she’s being self-deprecating or sarcastic.

Eric’s eyebrows lift so high in disbelief they almost go into his hairline as he waits for her to say she’s joking or something like that, but she doesn’t. She smiles a crooked smile. He realizes just how far she’s taking this disguise by using an alias and he wonders if he should call her out on it right now. If he should tell her that there was never a chance he wasn’t going to recognize her no matter what lengths she went to.

Something stops him from doing that...a voice in his head that starts whispering things he should ignore and fight against, but he’s just too damn tired of fighting anymore.

He lets his eyes roam over her and not bothering to hide the appreciative way he takes her in, for once.

Lacey is tall even without the heeled boots she’s wearing but with them on they put her at almost exactly the same height as him. Her lips are touched with the most wicked and tempting shade of red, making the natural pout and thickness even more pronounced. The swell of her breasts and her creamy skin were purposely being pushed up by the corset top and left him salivating. For once Lacey wasn’t trying to hide the curves her body developed over the last few years. Taunting and dick hardening curves that she plays down in the clothes she wears from day-to-day. There’s not a chance of that in this getup.

His perusal of her stops when he gets to her midriff that is bare. In all her efforts to disguise herself, she had forgotten the very distinctive birthmark on her right side resting on her lower abs area. It’s a faded rust-brown color in the shape of a scorpion, complete with claws, tail and a stinger that curves to the left. Maybe she thought it would like a tattoo so didn’t bother trying to hide it or maybe she didn’t think anyone would know she has something like that at all. Eric knew of it because Henley had remarked on it being something else passed on from her dad’s side of the family and he had seen it for himself one time. Just a brief glimpse but enough for him to have it burned in his memory.

Seeing it now fully for the first time is only driving his desire for her even higher and images of him with his lips working that spot over have any thought of stopping this charade flying right out of his mind. He decides he’s not going to fight it. It’s obvious she doesn’t want him to know it’s her and he’s curious how far she’s wanting to take that.

“Mary?” He finally said in amusement when he looked back into her eyes. She shrugs with a smile playing on her lips. “So, what are you doing here?” His eyes narrowed as he searched for the answers in hers but she had stopped his ability to read things there when she put in the contacts.

Lacey licked her lips as her breathing picked up. Her chest heaved a little as she slowly reached out and put a long delicate looking hand on his arm. Right at the bulge of his bicep and where the skin was bare there.

The simple touch had the blood pounding in his ears and made his nostrils flare.

“It seemed like a good night to lose myself. Maybe become someone else. Someone that takes what she wants for a change.” Her answer was a breathy whisper.

It sent shivers down his back while at the same time anger coursing through him when he remembered her letting that dickhead chat her up. Was it her intention to give her innocence to just anyone?

“And what exactly is it that you want, Red?” He growled out as he used his other hand to grip her waist and jerk her against him.

She gasped and gripped his arm tighter. “Well, I'm Red Riding Hood, right? What would she be without her wolf? That’s why I’m here, to find him.” She replied after a few seconds pause, her voice dropped to that husky, seductive one again.

“Just any old wolf would do, huh?” His jaw was clenched as he asked it angrily.

For a moment, even through the contacts that concealed her normally expressive eyes, he saw sadness flash in them. “No. I was hoping to catch my big bad wolf.” She replied in a tremulous whisper but her eyes held his meaningfully.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. She wasn’t here for some random hook up. There was a reason she picked his favorite club, the one she knew he would slip off to so he could have a few drinks after the madness this holiday always brought him. It was one of his fucking routines and she knew all of those by heart.

The costume, the disguise, using another name...it was all meant for him. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

It shouldn’t surprise him. There had been signs of it for years. Looks they shared or how she reacted to him at times. The most he had been willing to admit to was that she might have a crush but that she grew out of it. He always denied them as being real signs of attraction on her part and put anything else down to him reading into things too much because he desperately wanted them to be real and not just his imagination.

He couldn’t make that mistake now. He needed to be sure this is what he thought it was.

“Did you find him?” He purred out as he ghosted his lips near her ear.

She shivered in his embrace and dug her nails into his arms. “I have. Unless it turns out he’s all bark and no bite.” She taunted playfully.

Eric pulled back with a smirk on his lips and desire in his eyes. There was still a small part holding him back. Part of him needed to give her the out if this wasn’t what she wanted or if she had second thoughts. There was also a part of him that wanted to scare her off. Because if she backed down now, they could possibly pretend this night never happened and carry on as normal. He could go back to living in denial about his feelings for her and she could go on never knowing how fucked up he really was with all the terrible things he wants to do to her.

“Let's cut the shit, Red. I want you but I'm not some little boy that will be nice, sweet and gentle about it. Do you know what that means? The things I’m going to do to you?”

Even as he said the words he was also sending up silent prayers she wouldn’t back down. That he hadn’t or wouldn’t scare her off...because he wanted this. He needed this. Just one fucking night with her. He could never have more...but this...maybe he could really let her go if they had this one night together.

“Tell me, Eric. What are you going to do to me?” She replied with no fear and no hesitation. Only a slight tremble in her voice that was thick with desire.

Eric paused to gather himself and moved the arm that rested on the wall by her head to cup the back of her neck possessively.

He leaned in so their bodies were pressed tightly together, letting her feel the clear evidence of his arousal. “If you think all that’s going to happen is me fucking you, you’re wrong, Red. I’m not just going to fuck you. I’m going to own you. Every part of you will be mine to do with as I please but I’m also going to make you come undone for me so many times you will remember nothing but my name as you scream it over and over. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else so that you will lay awake at night remembering and craving me.” He rasped, his forehead pressed against hers.

And he meant every damn word. Especially about ruining her...just as she had already ruined him for anyone else.

He felt the gasped breath and the trembling in her body. He pulled back to see if he had scared her off with the rawness of his admission but again, he saw only desire. She shifted and tried to clench her thighs together. Her chest was heaving, pushing her breasts out even further than her top did. She licked her lips and a small moan escaped them.

It filled him with relief and resolve.

With a smirk, he lifted his chin towards her to indicate it was her turn to answer. “Do you want that?”

She nodded her head in two tight jerky motions but Eric shook his head. That wasn’t good enough. He needed to hear her say it, say the words and tell him exactly what she wanted him to do to her.

“Say it. Tell me what you want.” He commanded her.

She took a big breath and lifted her chin. “I want you, Eric. I want you to take me. To...to fuck me until I can't see straight, think straight. Until there is only you….nothing else.”

He groaned and buried his head in the exposed crook of her neck, tasting the flesh there. She tasted exactly like the scent she always left in her wake when she was near. Citrus and honeysuckle. He pulled himself away after eliciting whimpered moans from her. He stepped back and took a breath.

“Last chance to run home to grandma, Red. Are you sure?”

He knew that would have her back going straight in defiance, and it did. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowed and chin squared in determination. “I'm sure, Wolf .” Then her eyes softened a little. “No regrets.” She said in a whispered promise.

Eric nodded and took her hand in his. “No regrets” His reply was an internal, hopeful prayer that he could keep his own promise.

He pulled her close to his side, then without another word they made their way out of the bar together to his apartment.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter fanfiction #eric x oc #divergent au #no war #no divergents #eric coulter #oc #smut #angst #jai courtney #phoebe tonkin

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secret-engima · 5 years

Text

Snippet of Everything Ends (Then Begins Again)

(This is a time-travel AU I started after finishing FFXV and then dropped for a bit, but I’ve started watching Episode Ardyn Walkthroughs and was Inspired™ so I picked it up again instead of, you know, working on my already posted WIPs like a responsible person. Basic premise is that Noctis saves the world ala game end, but in the moments after defeating Ardyn in the other realm he decides to just ... yeet fate and fix things properly. One breaking of the laws of time-space using all his Astral/Crystal/Ancestral-given magic later, he and several others including Nyx and Luna wake up in their younger bodies. Libertus is not a time-traveller and, as such, is the perfect Outsider POV for me to play with at the moment).

The first time they saw Prince Noctis was in the aftermath of the Wave, when the king finally decided to let them off their leashes and take back what had been stolen from them. Oh, they had seen the prince in the news before. A few of them had even seen the little boy flitting about the palace halls, cheerful and pampered and oblivious to the blood being spilled to keep his home safe when so many others had already lost theirs.

But the first time they saw him, looked in his eyes and really heard his voice, was about six months after the Wave, only a few weeks after the strict silence about the prince’s health and recovery had been lifted. A mere four days since anyone had seen the prince ghosting through the halls again, far quieter and being waited on hand and foot by two of their own that had only just come back from their latest long-term secret mission —and didn’t that just light Libertus and the others off, all those servants and guards and the prince had to demand two pet glaives of his own—.

It was in the glaive’s medical bay. The one deep in the bowels of the Old Citadel, nearest the underground garage that all the medical trucks went to after a nasty battle left comrades either dead or gasping from blood loss and missing limbs and magical exhaustion. The latest push to reclaim territory from the Nifs had been met with more resistance than anticipated. Crippled the main military force might have been, but there were still human soldiers and officers in the imperial army. And there was still tech that could be used by those humans if they were desperate enough —which they were, like cornered rats clinging to their stolen scraps—. The Nifs in the area had lashed out with cunning instead of brute force for the first time in years and many of the glaives had suffered from the unexpected turn of tactics.

Libertus was one of the ones sent back. Not because of an injury, thankfully, but because King Regis had the glaives on a constant rotation of who was at the front and who was on “light duty” at the Citadel to “recuperate”. Besides, someone needed to be there to guard their injured brothers and sisters, keep them calm when the doctors pumped them full of chemicals instead of potions and the nightmares of the war clawed like daemons beneath uncaring medical lights.

He was trying to browbeat one of newer, snobbier doctors to stop being such a miser and use a hi-potion on one of Libertus’s screaming comrades when a useless nurse by the door squawked, “Hey, this is a restricted area, you can’t-! I-! You’re Majesty, don’t-!”

Nyx’s familiar, sarcastic drawl drew Libertus’s eye to the door like a magnet, “Stand aside, sweetheart. His Majesty wants in.”

The nurse was waving a clipboard helplessly at Nyx’s dangerous coeurl-like smile. She protested loudly even as she let Nyx nudge her aside to let someone else into the room, “But-but- this is no place for a child-! Why did you bring him here-.”

“I told him to.” The quiet lilt of a child was so at odds with Libertus’s surroundings it felt like a slap to the face. The general hubbub of the medical bay was fading save for the groans and whimpers of those too out of it to care. Doctors, nurses, and glaives alike stared in disbelief at the tiny figure who had entered at Nyx’s heels. The last person anyone would expect to see in this place that stank of blood and pain and chemical cleaner and nightmares.

The eight year old prince stood in the middle of what must have looked to a child like the set of a horror movie. Blue eyes flitted back and forth over it, slowly widening as childish, pampered innocence clashed with the marks of war. Libertus shoved his way over to Nyx and hissed in his friend’s ear even as he waited for the terrified screaming to start, “Why’d you bring him here?”

Nyx glanced at him, that weird, distant cant to his gaze that he’d had ever since the Wave made him fail a warp and hit the ground from several stories up, “He asked.”

Libertus fumed, —“no brain damage incurred” his right foot—, “You could have distracted him! He’s gonna start bawlin’ any minute an’ that’s the last thing we need right now-!”

The prince unfroze and, instead of screaming and running away, walked deeper into the ward. He came to a stop by one of the corner cots —a comrade already abandoned by the doctors, marked off as unsalvageable even though an elixir could buy him enough time, even though a megalixir would fix him—, and stared into the pain-glazed eyes of the man draped on it, “This man needs help.”

No. Really? Libertus bit back the sarcasm and gave Nyx —and Crowe, who had just slipped inside— a dark look. Another nurse tried to tug the prince away by his shoulder, “Please leave, Your Majesty, this is no place for someone of your status and age-.”

The brat prince forced the hand off his shoulder with mulish slap, “He needs help. Why aren’t you helping him?”

“We’re doing all we can, but we have to take care of the more urgent cases first-.”

“Shattered legs and internal organ damage isn’t urgent?” There was anger in the young tone now, a slight lilt toward a tantrum and even though it was technically in the glaives’ favor, Libertus nudged Nyx hard and tried to silently make his friend intervene before the prince distracted all the doctors and got more of their comrades killed —it wouldn’t occur to him until later to wonder how the prince had known what was wrong with the glaive, how he’d known what that kind of trauma looked like at a glance—.

“Your Majesty, the surgeons are already busy-!”

“Then just give him an elixir or something!” Libertus nearly saw red —of course it was easy to say that when you were royalty that could afford everything and didn’t have to worry about the miser doctors rationing out potions and elixirs like water in the desert— and he could hear Crowe breathe sharply through her teeth.

“Your Majesty-!”

Nyx interrupted at last, but not the way Libertus wanted him to, “There are rationing regulations in place for all magical medicines above the level of basic potions. They won’t use elixirs on a patient unless the patient’s officer level or crownsguard. He’s neither, so he’s been marked as a hopeless case. They’ll get to him when they have time, but that probably won’t be for hours yet.”

Blue eyes snapped over the prince’s shoulder, staring at Nyx with something Libertus couldn’t understand —something too dark and dangerous and old, something his mind shied away from because no child could look like that—. Libertus wondered if the sudden drop in temperature was his imagination, but the other conscious glaives were all shivering and panting beneath the sudden pressure of an incoming storm too. It occurred to Libertus that royals were connected to the Crystal at birth, so if the kid threw a tantrum here, there was every chance of triggering a magical blowout.

Nyx had essentially let a magical bomb into the same room as their comrades with a child holding the detonator.

Panic swelled in his mind as blue eyes narrowed and burned red for a heart-stopping second.

Then faltered when the boy whipped around, ducked under the nurse’s grasp, and grabbed the limp hand of the glaive on the cot. Armiger magic chimed and green lit the cot like a strobe light as the prince shoved something into the limp hand and forced bloody fingers to squeeze tight. The glaive on the cot gasped, eyes snapping clear as the man who shouldn’t have been able to move from his injuries sat up sharply.

The prince was already turning away, red eyes boring into the nurse and command lining the childish tones with unexpected venom, “Show me the rest of your ‘hopeless cases’. Now.”

#Secret-Engima's Writing #Melodies and Manuscripts #ffxv au #time-travel fixit #nyx ulric #noctis lucis caelum #planning on posting this once I reach ten chapters

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