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chuluoyi · 3 months

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✎ insatiable

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of heavy smut (gojo eating you out, p in v sex, missionary style, and hints of semi-rough sex?) and fluff, fluff, fluff—it gets exponentially soft during aftercare because i need fluff to live

note: i'm no saint, i know, and i'm blaming all this on my pms🤧 this is obviously not my best work but pls enjoy regardless🥲 based on this idea of love hotel dates

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is a man of demanding needs, and ‘holding back’ is never in his vocabulary.

Sometimes he swears you do it on purpose—the choice of your sundress, revealing your soft thighs for everyone to see; or pulling up your hair to enunciate the beauty of your neck, which reminds him of just how much he loves it to leave his love bites there.

And how you coyly look at him while doing so, it’s hard not to get hard.

You made him want to fuck you into the mattress and devour you whole—well, with you looking so inviting like that, you couldn’t really blame him for leading you to love hotel in the middle of your dates now, could you?

. . .

“Why are you so pretty, huh? All dolled up just for me...”

Your plush thighs framing each side of his head, your dress was long discarded as you lay sprawled out, legs parted wide . . . with Satoru sucking your dripping cunt hungrily and you pulling at his hair.

“Ahh... hah... mmnghh!” the way his voice was muffled between your legs, paired with how his tongue was tasting your clit had you moaning like a distressed kitten— and you felt hot all over.

And oh, couldn't you tell that you were so wet already down there?

You grimaced, focusing on the rising heat pooling in your lower belly. “Satoru... you're too—!”

“Hmm? Too what? Too good, sweet pea?” he edged you on, that devilish smirk on his face. “Of course I am. I'm the best.”

The way he lapped at your overflowing pussy was mind-blowing to say the least—casually nipping, licking, and overall, just scarfing down your sensitive flesh with such fervor.

How could someone be so incredibly sinful and heavenly at the same time?

"Aahhhh!" you yanked his locks and arched your back when he blowed air into your clit—your body spasming when you finally felt the knot in your belly burst once again, his awaiting tongue slurping you as if you were his tastiest treat.

And by now, you could barely form any thoughts, after he pulled the rag out from under you by making you cum four times.

“Do I make you feel good?” he chuckled, still pressing his face between your legs. With your head spinning and stars dancing in your vision, you could only whine.

Seeing you rendered into such hot mess—all because of him, Satoru smiled, ignoring the slight pain in his scalp as he swallowed your cum with that devious smirk before kissing your inner thigh with the very same daring mouth that was devouring your pussy before.

Beautifully and perfectly wet. You were like a ripe fruit for ready the taking now.

“Now, sweets... let me just show you what the best feels like.”

Suddenly, his length slid into you like a perfect fit, hitting you right where it should be. The sensation left you breathless, and in a flash, you let out hitched cries as he began to move within you, setting a relentless rhythm that seemed almost unforgiving.

“Satoru— too fast! Too de—ngh, hah—!”

Oh my, what a precious thing you are, writhing under him like this. “Really…? Then it means I’m doing—haah—a great job at this then.”

With each thrust, he marvelled at how tight your walls were engulfing him. Damn, if this kept up longer, even he wouldn’t last. Your pussy was a heavenly treasure.

“Fuck, you're so—hot,” Satoru panted, his fingers digging into your thighs as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was really going to lose it soon, especially when right now, under him, you were a sight to behold. So pliant, so pretty, all his—

“I can't—!” you suddenly blurted, tears running down your scrunched-up face. “Satoru, I can't anymore—please—”

“Oh, but you can, baby girl,” he slowed down and countered in a low growl, interlacing his fingers with yours and folded your knees, effectively pinning you down to the bed. He had never made you hit five orgasms in one session, but now he was about to set a personal best.

His eyes captivated you, with how glittery they were. “One more time. My girl can do it.”

The underlying command in his tone triggered you, turning you on. And then he plowed into you— and then you didn't know anymore as the one thing you could utter was his name, in broken wails. “Satoru! argh—aaaah! Satoruuuu!”

His name spilling nastily from your lips, and—holy fuck, how your folds were still clenching around his cock so deliciously tight was just so—!!

He grunted, brushing his lips on yours in a messy kiss as his other hand squeezed your plump breast, making you yelp. “Can't blame me for this. Will fuck you till you can’t walk. You're mine now.”

He thrusted faster and harder, targeting your cervix repeatedly like a predator in heat. And your scream was the loudest ever yet when you cummed for the fifth time—

“Ah… ah—ahhhh!” your body shuddered, a wave of blinding pleasure crashed upon you so hard your vision dimmed, lost in the sensation of how his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply without giving you a chance to recover.

And by God, you are amazing, because in the next minute, Satoru lost all his shits and groaned loudly—his hot cum spurting in successive bursts and filling you up oh so nicely . . . even overflowing as it dripped out of your spent folds and down to the pristine sheets.

Satoru slowly sat up on the bed. The air was still thick with the aftermath of the best sex he had for the first time in a while.

It took him a few moments to realize that you passed out as you were lying face down on the pillow, motionless. A frown creased his forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tenderly brushing your hair aside.

“Sweetheart, hey? You okay?” he cautiously whispered. “Hey...”

His heart suddenly thudded within his ribcage when you failed to respond. The mere thought of you being anything less than okay was enough to send him spiraling.

You cracked your eyes open at his prodding, and let out a whimper when you felt a sudden cramp seizing your lower abdomen. In reflex, you clutched at the source of discomfort and curled upon yourself.

Satoru got a hold of you quickly, alarmed, trying to soothe you. “We're getting a bath, yeah? Hold on.”

Gone was the rabid man who senselessly fucked you over, replaced by the sweet boyfriend who was worried sick over your state.

He rushed to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath. However, noticing your slow, pained attempt to stand, he hurried back, lifting you effortlessly with one arm under your knees.

“Shh,” he quieted your whine gently, planting a swift kiss on your forehead. “You’re sore. Don't walk—let me carry you.”

And not only did he carry you, Satoru also tenderly bathed you, keeping you close to his chest. He sat behind you in the bathtub, comforting you with gentle caresses when you sniffled and pressing soft kisses on your wet shoulders, one arm securely around your waist.

After the bath, he quickly dried you off and wrapped you in the hotel's plush bathrobe. With utmost care, he lifted you again in a princess-carry and tucked you into the bed you both shared for the night.

“How are you feeling now, hmm?” he asked you softly, drawing you to his embrace again. “Better?”

Even refreshed from the bath, your mind was still partially muddled in the afterglow from the earlier lovemaking. You sought solace in his comforting presence. “Mm-hmm...”

“I was too rough on you, wasn’t I?“

He really made good on that promise—you wouldn’t be able to walk now as you felt too much like a jelly. You simply let out a soft sigh and gently bumped your forehead against his chest in a resignation, which brought a smile to his face.

“Sorry...” he murmured, his hand finding your hip to start a gentle massage. Unbeknownst to your half-sleepy state, he genuinely meant his apology. “In my defense, you are just unbelievably ravishing though...”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted through a haze, your voice scratchy as you poked him in the chest with little force.

“Heh, for you? Most definitely.”

That got you to smile. His words, warm and fond, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, affirming his deep, unwavering affection and desire for you alone.

The soothing motions of his hip massage lulled you back to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut with a sense of tranquility. And seeing you like this, something inside Gojo Satoru pulsed with tenderness.

“So pretty,” he blurted in pure adoration, his honored eyes fixed firmly on your sleeping form, blinking in wonder. “Wasted on someone like me…”

Suddenly, he found that he wanted to be soft to you more than ever. Next time, he would take it nice and slow. He would mold himself into your needs and desires— that was his vow to himself.

And it dawned to him, how he didn't want this love hotels anymore. Instead, he wants forever, with you—

But until then... he would relish this moment to the fullest, indulging himself in your presence, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat—secure with the knowledge that he was yours, at least until forever falls apart.

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blkkizzat · 8 months

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ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground.

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain.

Choso breathed in deeply.

A wave of calm washed over him.

Peace.

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill.

It was beautiful.

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting.

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush.

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape.

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red.

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow.

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18.

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics.

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.

Choso was meticulous in his process.

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed).

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them.

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit.

Almost midnight.

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night.

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus.

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that!

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall.

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered.

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–”

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad.

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree.

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!” You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels.

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you.

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were.

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor.

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–”

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course he knew about the party.

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys.

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied.

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement.

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student.

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed.

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back.

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter?

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold.

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still.

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders.

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket.

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class.

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.”

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!”

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off.

They looked absolutely miserable.

“I have my pledges!”

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless.

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward.

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you.

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest.

Shit.

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe.

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg.

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation.

Really don’t.

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time.

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges.

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!”

Your pledges erupted with various replies from–

‘Thank God!’’

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house.

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing.

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did.

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms.

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good.

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight.

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you.

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds.

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus.

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway.

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes.

Also you did have a boyfriend.

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too.

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice.

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable.

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did.

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves.

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were.

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck.

He was hard again.

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful.

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring.

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority.

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps.

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting.

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started.

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began.

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though.

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless.

You were also a hard worker.

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions.

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way.

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again.

Choso put a hand over his face.

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless.

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up.

He had to move more carefully.

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!”

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you.

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills.

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims.

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!”

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath.

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table.

“Oh Crap!”

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!”

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!”

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’.

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably.

“Oh! Like in Dexter!”

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.”

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible.

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research.

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him.

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face.

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth.

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it.

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you.

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body.

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away.

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.”

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?”

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again.

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle.

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.”

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it.

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!”

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso.

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip.

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face.

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo.

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!”

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell.

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..”

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you.

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife.

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect.

Tch.

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books.

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent.

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso.

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.”

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?”

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record.

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso.

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that.

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off.

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned.

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes.

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so.

“W-wait Cho–”

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

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sytoran · 3 months

Text

LACY, OH LACY

from the series "pretty in pink"

🌷 pairing: sub!bunny!wanda x dom!owner!reader

🌷 rating: 18+

🌷 notes: this'll probably be my last fic in a while... enjoy it while it lasts :(

there is something to be said about your weakness for white lace. or more specifically, the sight of your bunny girlfriend in white lace.

wanda just looks like such a fashion of angelic porcelain, perfectly dolled up in the garments you chose for her. as pure as her innocent heart is, the downright sinful thoughts of the things you’d do to your angel is evidently not lost on her doe eyes.

cataclysmic seconds is what it takes before you’ve got your long fingers dipping into the gentle curve of her hips, feather-light enough to make her squeal, pin-hard enough to make her bruise.

the white lace just makes her tits look so perfect, and the way your hands play with her ample assets are telltale enough. her posterior looks fantastically edible in the lacy garment. what’s more is the dampness between her legs, decorated and wrapped in the fabric like a christmas present.

santa takes kindness on you, if that’s the case, because your dominant hand trespasses her panties in mere seconds, and you’re delightedly greeted with the type of wet heat you dream about at night.

two long and veiny fingers plunge into the threshold of her cunt, explorative and unforgiving. you stretch out your fingers and curl them inwards, unable to hide your smirk at the affected cries wanda lets out.

“feels good, baby?” you would tease, letting your teeth graze her earlobe as she jumps at the contact. the way she squirms in your greedy hands, high-pitched breathy whines and soft mewls, should be marked with a warning of libido overload.

“s’there!” wanda mewls, when your fingers curl into a particularly spongy spot of her cute cunt. you retract your fingers all the way, hearing wanda whine and mewl in protest, but then you plunge in all the way again and she cries out.

“daddy,” she whines, fingernails scraping at your abdomen and downwards, the telltale sign of something else of yours she wants.

you could almost laugh at her insatiability. “okay, baby, you ready?” you only ask, tilting her chin up with two fingers, sending her a knowing smile.

wanda doesn’t have time to question your ulterior motives because she feels the head of something huge poking into her butt and she squeaks, bumping into your chest.

her cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because she knows exactly how this is going to end up. and you do, too, fiend perpetrator of her dirty dreams and filthy nights.

“come on, angel, you know what to do.”

your words work like clockwork. wanda’s blind obedience could rival pavlov’s dog, even more so with her drooling lips and perked ears. angelic locks of blonde hair frame her face as she moves up.

leaning back into your bed with a slow kind of arrogance that has wanda’s heart rate speeding up exponentially, she heeds your lofty command and straddles your hips.

plush, pale thighs spread as she positions herself above your cock, and you peel off her soaked white and lacy panties with a satisfied hum. “needy bunny,” you tease.

watchful eyes of yours darken significantly at the strings of slick on her panties that cling on to her soaked pussy, an emblem of your bunny’s arousal — and something like a pit of bottomless, desperate fire builds in your stomach.

almost as if she could feel your burning want, wanda’s front teeth sink into her bottom lip, ears burning pink. you think she’s never looked so pretty. your hands dig into the plush of her thighs.

you want to see her break.

“s’tight, daddy,” wanda whimpers, clawing at your abdomen as she fits herself onto your large cock. you can see the way your clefted tip stretches out her hole, and you hum in faux thoughtfulness.

“want my help, bunny?” you ask slowly, already knowing the answer.

wanda hardly has time to nod her pretty, dumb head, before you’re forcefully grabbing the plush of her thighs and pushing her down onto your cock.

she cries out as you mercilessly spread her open with tacit ease. “daddy-” she gasps wetly, slick running down her thighs as you greedily bury yourself hilt-deep.

your huge cock just barely fits into her tight cunt, stretching her out fully. wanda looks pretty as a picture, her watery doe eyes and front teeth sinking into the bottom of her lip.

“fuck,” you growl, unable to help yourself, slapping her tight ass with your large hand. it ripples under your touch, bright red blossoming across her porcelain skin.

wanda’s whiny moan reverberates in your ears. she’s just so susceptible, easy to mold. your hands run over her like fine pottery, with the tacit understanding that you could shape her into whatever you desired.

“please,” wanda whines, bouncing in your lap with an overt eagerness. you nudge your face between her plush tits, dragging a heavy tongue up the column of her smooth skin, nipping on the sides of her breasts just to hear her gasp and press into you.

already, a promised paradise hangs between the two of you. you approach the brink of insanity with every erratic whine she lets out as she struggles to take your size.

wanda squeaks when you hoist her upwards, big palms spreading underneath a rounded ass, then you flip your bodies around. suddenly, wanda is being pressed under the possessive hold of your body weight, sinking into the soft mattress, doe eyes looking at the way you lick your lips.

“y’look good enough to eat, baby,” you say breathlessly, a hand trailing over her bare tummy and down to her ruined mess of a cunt. “but i’m gonna fill you up first.”

wanda lets out a ragged moan when you spread her legs easily, sliding in again with fervour. her wet folds spread so obediently to take the size of your cock, fluttering around your cock to provide you with optimum pleasure.

you, on the other hand, are not faring so well. wanda’s so wet, and tight, and fuck you’re gonna come again. she’s just so irresistible—

“daddy!” the long, dragged moan drawn from wanda’s angelic lips blesses your ears like a holy shrine, but it is nothing compared to the plane of existence you ascend to when you release inside wanda.

out the way your cum relentlessly paints her velvet walls could have lucifer blushing. you just rut your hips into her like she’s your personal stress-reliever, eliciting high-pitched shrieks every time the head of your cock bumps into her cervix.

“please!” wanda sobs, clutching onto your shoulder blades for dear life as she gets pounded into the mattress. “please, please, daddy, please— i can’t—”

shoving yourself in deeper, you lick a long stripe up her neck to her earlobe, letting the coarseness of your tongue and its pierced ring do their work. “i know you can, bunny,” you say easily, rich chocolate and honey, melting wanda’s insides with the way your words turn her into mush. “let me fill you up, hm?”

you never get to hear her acknowledgement because wanda’s head lolls to the side as she cums again. you grunt with effort, heaving yourself up and lodging your bodies skin-to-skin.

you cum goes so deep inside your bunny girl that there’s almost no way she won’t be taking your pups, and the sheer thought of that has you tipping over the edge again.

a blissed-out expression meets your eyes as wanda regains a semblance of her composure, with inquisitive perked-up ears and entirely subservient eyes.

“want another, please.”

had this one stewing in my google docs for the longest time

reblogging means a lot!!

#wanda maximoff x reader smut #sub wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #x reader #marvel women #wanda x reader smut #wanda x reader #bunny wanda #gxg smut #wlw smut #dom reader #marvel #marvel smut #pretty in pink: the series

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immajustvibehere · 4 months

Text

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow. I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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l0vergrlll · 1 month

Text

: ̗̀ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Inspo: Care by Sonder (good song, I <3 Sonder)

Summary: You come home on a Friday evening after a rough week of work, excited to finally have some time alone with your boyfriend, who plans on taking good care of you tonight.

Warnings: established relationship, bathing together, fluff, suggestive, no actual smut, just cuteness hehehe

Note: this is my first fanfiction EVER!! It's not the best but not the worst ig. I also wrote it at like 2am lol. Enjoy!

It's been raining relentlessly this evening, and it seemed to show no signs of coming to an end any time soon. You don’t mind it, though. Frankly, you found the rain rather peaceful. You thought it was nature’s way of quieting the rest of the world’s unwavering commotion with its own serene ambience. The pleasant pitter-pattering of droplets against the car window served as a calm, subdued white noise for you as you rested your forehead against the cool glass. Your eyes subconsciously followed each passing car, each person scrambling in the downpour, eager to get home. You were itching to get back to the apartment as well, taking glances at the taxi driver’s GPS up front to get an idea of how much time remained. You relaxed back into the backseat, sighing as you returned your attention to the outside world, observing the cohorts of people flooding out of the revolving doors of various high rise buildings.

It was definitely a taxing work week to say the least. You were overcome with relief as you let the idea of the oncoming weekend embrace you in a welcoming hug. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought of what was waiting for you back home. A chance to unwind, treat yourself, and indulge in the warm comforts of your weekend hobbies and activities. But what excited you most was the idea of him.

The week had been a rigorous, almost never-ending series of projects, meetings, and all-nighters. And you were painfully aware of the lack of quality time spent with Matt. Even though you couldn’t help your harsh schedule, and he was endlessly understanding, you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt which weighed on your heart. After a week of dull, rushed conversations with him as you were scrambling to get out of the door on time for work, you were experiencing what almost felt like withdrawals. When was the last time you allowed yourself to lay in his strong arms, comfortable in his secure embrace? When did you last feel the shivering sensation crawl up your spine and the warming of your cheeks as he whispered into your ears, his lips grazing your earlobe with every word? You craved the grit of his voice blessing your ears as he spoke to you, the way your heart fluttered as his pale blue eyes pierced into your own, slightly squinting as he spoke. The way you gasped and muffled your moans with the back of your hand as your back arched to his rhythmic, unforgiving thrusts. The way tears would fall down the sides of your face as you couldn’t contain your pleasurable screams, digging your nails into his biceps as he edged you closer to your climax, whilst simultaneously groaning in your ear. Close was never close enough. You missed that unyielding need for each other.

Finally, the driver parked parallel to the entrance of your apartment building. You were swift to exit the car, thanking him in the process. The rain showed no mercy, prompting you to run inside the building whilst holding a hand above your head as a pathetic form of coverage. Once inside, you called for the elevator with the click of a button, squirming uneasily in your damp work clothes. You felt giddy with anticipation, undoubtedly excited to see Matt, to jump into his arms and inhale his scent. At long last, you were on your floor and facing your apartment door, fiddling in your purse for the keys. You tutted in annoyance as you struggled to dig them out in the jungle of items stuffed in your purse.

You audibly groan with frustration, about to dump the entirety of the contents inside when you hear the door click. You look up to see it open fully, Matt looking down at you with disheveled hair and an almost childish grin of pure excitement. He leaned against the door frame, wearing a black long sleeve and gray sweats which were untied, loosely hanging low on his waist and revealing the brim of his boxers. You couldn’t help but return the smile, and laugh as he pulled you in by the arm, wrapping his own around your waist and burying his head in your damp hair.

“God, remind me to clean out my purse, please,” you remarked, smiling as you snuggled your face into his chest, your hands gripping onto his shirt.

Matt laughed silently as he pushed you away slightly, now able to look at you.

“I’m glad you're home, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you,” He spoke softly, and god was the gruff sound of his voice elating. You smiled at him, and took his hand in yours as the two of you wandered into the kitchen, the smell of food engulfing your senses.

“I think I might, Matty. I’ve really been missing you too. Thank God it’s finally Friday,” You exhaled with relief once again. Matt’s arms snaked around your body from behind you, and he pressed himself against your back. He’s taller than you, able to rest his jaw upon your head as you leaned back into him. You rested your head slightly on his shoulder as you looked up at him, really taking in the sight. Your handsome boyfriend, adorned by a freshly shaven complexion. You traced his sharp jawline with your finger, moving it upwards as you gently carved out the outline of his cheekbones. A smile crept across his face as he looked down at you. His arms tightened their hold around you and he lowered his head into your neck, inhaling deeply.

“So I made you dinner…” He spoke softly, bringing his hands up from around your waist and onto your shoulder, gently pressing his fingers expertly as he massaged them. You exhale with your mouth open, clearly needing the relief of tension. He continued, “...But I think what you really need is a nice hot bath. What do you think, sweetheart?” His voice lowered, almost into a whisper as he spoke dangerously close to your ear. He continued to rub your shoulders, awaiting your response.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d love a bath right now,” You turned slightly to face him.

“I thought you might, so I have one ready for you,” He smiled, his eyes squinting at the corners as he did so. You melted at the sight every time, never able to get enough of that pretty face.

“Wow, you seem really proud of yourself,” You joked. He chuckled lightly, and suddenly moved away from behind you, taking your hand in his. He tugged you in the direction of the bathroom. Your smile never faded, your cheeks and ears warming at his sheer thoughtfulness. Upon entering the bathroom, he closed the door gently behind the two of you.

“You know I care about you, more than anything. Let me show you tonight just how much I do,” He dropped your hand as he spoke and walked over to the bathtub, lowering a hand into the water to check if the temperature was right. You noticed the thick layer of foamy bubbles sitting on top of the water. You breathed in, a strong aroma lingering in the room. It was eucalyptus, your favorite, meaning Matt used your favorite aromatic bubble bath. Two candles were lit, sitting on the corner of the tub. Matt had hung up two bathrobes upon the hooks which hung from the back of the bathroom door. Everything was laid out for you, your favorite body scrubs, creams, and hair care items.

Matt smiled, pleased at himself as he watched you beam appreciatively at his efforts.

“Hop in, beautiful,” He spoke as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso. You stare with your mouth open at his nude upper body, admiring the slight curvature of his toned muscles. The way they descended into his v-line, lined down the center with a little hair. You watched as he slid his sweats down with his thumbs. He smirked playfully at your anticipation for his boxers to come off next, and instead of rewarding you with that display, he walked up to you and lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head as you obediently lifted your arms in an effort to help.

He whispered almost to himself, “Let me take care of you tonight..” repeating the promise he had previously mentioned. You let him pull your pants down, dragging your underwear down with them as you lifted each leg for him to fully remove the garments. You held onto his hair as he did so, and you smiled to yourself, unable to prevent the heat of blush which tainted your cheeks at the intimacy of it all. Once your bottoms were off, he ascended back up and moved onto the clasp of your bra, expertly unclipping it and slipping the fabric off forwards. Your breasts relaxed, perking upwards with taut nipples as he removed it, and you watched as his eyes observed them hungrily. He stepped back for a moment, appreciating the art in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip as he examined the beauty of your nudity. You laughed, and his gaze then lifted to your own. He leaned in, suddenly removing any space between you two.

“I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet,” He whispered, followed by his lips softly landing on yours. You brought your hands up around his neck as you hungrily moved your mouth against his, your body buzzing as his lips closed around yours repeatedly. He pulled away, and took your hand again, leading you to the tub. He let you keep holding his hand as you stepped into the tub, the hot water initially shocking your skin, making it deliciously difficult to delve the rest of your body within the water. You sighed as you lowered yourself, the comfort of the heat engulfing you.

“Oh yeah… I really needed this,” You spoke breathily, your body relaxing. It’s clear that your body was wound up, and in desperate need for this physical consolation. You watched matt lower his boxers, revealing his large manhood. You bit your lip slightly at the sight, smirking as he maintained eye contact with you in the act. He flashed you with one of his signature sexy grins, and took his turn entering the tub. He groaned quietly at the shock of the heat, slowly lowering himself until he was opposite to you, his long legs meeting yours as his knees remained visible and bent above the water. For a while, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, staring at each other. You let the warmth cloud your conscience, freeing your mind of the unbreakable stress of the work week. Simply being with Matt at all was enough to ease your turmoil. But when the two of you took part in rare intimacies like this, just naked and in each other’s presence, you felt as if he was your haven, as if he was the physical embodiment of comfort and safety.

He was still staring at you, the humidity causing his soft brown hair to flatten a bit, ever so slightly damp at the very edges. His alluring eyes devoured your physical being, his unbroken eye contact causing your heart to flutter.

“What?” You asked shyly, slightly lowering further into the water as a way of hiding your vulnerability from his intimidating gaze.

“Come here,” He said with a smirk, holding out his strong, veiny arm in invitation. You crawled over to him in the water, careful to refrain from splashing outside the confines of the tub. As you made your way to his body, you turned your own so that your back faced him. He then wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in so your bare body is pressed against his. You giggled as you felt his hard dick prod at your lower back, but stayed leaning into him. This kind of closeness drove you crazy. You just wanted to bask in his comfort forever. You wanted to stay this way, naked and in eachothers arms, for it was the two of you in your most vulnerable state. The idea of it warmed your heart. And Matt felt equally as appreciative. The kind of love the two of you had, was a love which seemed to transcend the meaning of love itself. It felt as if you two were bound at the soul. It wasn’t only your bodies pressed against each other, but also your hearts, making love, entwined with one another and refusing to detach.

“I need you like I need oxygen. Is that crazy to say?” He spoke suddenly, and then chased the lingering words with passionate kisses on your neck. You loved when he randomly spoke his mind, saying the most romantic things sometimes. He tightened his hold, wanting to pull you in beyond what was physically possible. You moaned softly at his hungry kisses, which slowly escalated into nibbles and sucking, leaving signature spots in the areas in which you loved for his mouth to be, and he loved to remain.

“Of course it’s not crazy, baby.” You responded, your voice soft and flirtatious as he continued to kiss down your neck, his hips ever so slightly bucking upwards into your back. His hardness pressed against you, revealing his pure desire.

“In fact, I think I need you more than that. I mean, what would I ever do without you?” You continued, bringing a hand up to wrap around his neck. “You take such good care of me, Matty. Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome, pretty girl. I love everything about you, care about everything you do,” He spoke into your neck. Without looking away from you, he palmed the shaving cream that was sitting on the other side of the tub, and with the same hand grabbed your razor which was sitting beside it. He lifted his head from neck and smiled as he gazed into your eyes. He brought the arm that was still around your waist up and held your tit, massaging it slightly to both of your pleasure. You giggled, followed by a satisfied moan as he played with your nipple.

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” You gave him a quizzical look as he squirted some shaving cream into his hand. He gave you a light nudge back towards the other end of the tub.

“Can you move back to the other side and lift your leg up for me?” He smiled as the question left his lips. He had a way of asking questions like that with such a ravishing tone, his words alone made you want to moan in pleasure. Naturally, you obeyed, moving back to the other end of the tub and facing him again. You lifted your leg out of the water and he gripped it firmly, bringing your foot up to rest on his shoulder. He placed the cool white product on your leg, and began gently rubbing it so that it emulsified, covering the entirety of your shin. He did so while looking at you with lust tainting his eyes, accompanied with a tantalizing smirk. You watched him intently, fascinated by the way his hands roamed the surface of your skin, the muscles on his arms contracting slightly as he moved. His touch, his large hand holding your leg, it made your skin buzz with excitement. You were obsessed with the way he caressed you with such longing, as if he couldn’t survive without your touch, your warmth.

He let the hand covered in shaving cream drop into the water, rinsing it off. Then he picked up the razor and positioned it right at your ankle, close to his face. He slowly set the razor down onto your skin, and gently moved it up your leg while maintaining the slight pressure upon your skin. He moved his gaze from the razor to your face repeatedly, watching your reaction as he attentively shaved your leg. Something about the activity was so feverishly romantic. The way he maneuvered the razor with such care as to not leave behind any cuts or bumps. He went slow, and smiled at you yet again as you let your head lull to the side slightly, letting him groom you, take care of you.

“How is it?” He asked, as if performing an act of intimacy out of which you had to be satisfied. Which for the two of you, it was, as he shaved your leg with precision, his breath tickling your feet from time to time as he worked.

“You’re perfect,” You say. It was the only conclusion you were able to come to during the whole thing. He was simply perfect. He chuckled, lifting the razor as he did so as to not accidentally cut you.

“Well..” He trailed off, returning his attention to the job at hand. His other hand remained resting on the side of your ankle, his thumb moving up and down, gently rubbing your skin. He suddenly brought his lips to the skin on your inner ankle, placing a gentle peck of a kiss. He then brought his attention back to your face, pure passion projecting from his gaze. His lips were upturned in a tiny smile as he spoke.

“You know I care.”

...

a/n: smutty part 2??? maybe???

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic

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mikareo · 6 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has.

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return.

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new.

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed.

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that.

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi.

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken.

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him.

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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akoyaxs · 7 months

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˚༄ Tìyora Pt 3 ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 3.7k words Warnings: a little bit of jealousy, denial and delusion, reader sucks dick, in this fanfic the Metkayina don't give head (m recieving) if that makes sense? THIS IS A SERIES and can be found on my MASTERLIST!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

You weren’t at all expecting yourself to stick to the arrangement. It wasn’t a horrendous proposition; Aonung had proved himself fair and square, and if you were being honest, he had probably ruined you for anyone else. But it was out of principle that you tried to fight against your stupid fucking horniness.

But after training, you found yourself hot and bothered, and suddenly the training grounds were empty (Aonung having ordered everyone away), and suddenly you’re bent over on the sand, arms pillowed and back arched as he “taught you the ways of the Metkayina”.

It was just a one time thing, you promised yourself. It didn’t matter that yesterday you’d been fucked into oblivion, or that this afternoon you’d been riding him like your life depended on it, and tomorrow you’d be pinned against the floor of your marui while your family tamed their ilu, Aonung’s face nestled eagerly between your thighs and hands holding your squirming body still.

But nothing changed the fact that these “incidents” were becoming less accidental and more as though you accepted his offer to help each other out, which is probably why every few days you’d find him buried deep into you, fucking you rough or slow or just plain smugly.

Because he was smug about it. Until the day he found out that he was indeed sharing.

You had been right about one thing; he was selfish. He was entitled. He wasn’t about to be splitting your time with lesser skxawngs that would amount to nothing in their stupid, non-olo’eyktan lives. He certainly wasn’t going to be happy that after this last almost month as you both benefited from the “arrangement”, you’d been going around with other guys when he’d survived off the pleasure you gave him. And the most unforgivable thing was how he found out.

As future Olo’eyktan and a great warrior, Aonung was often the highest ranking at the training grounds when his father wasn’t there. He’d had all the warriors paired up and sparring, and you’d already matched with Moy’ka before he could even make his way over. Which was fine.

Aonung didn’t chase. If you wanted to train with another guy, it didn’t affect him. Especially because it was training, and only training. He could just as easily have you bent over this very sand in an hour, and he highly doubted Moy’ka would have the ability to make you sob in the way Aonung does.

So he takes his leisurely time strolling around, checking on the warriors and entertaining small conversation with batty-eyes, hair-twirling girls. You glance over a few times, and Aonung would be lying if he said he didn’t keep half an eye on the placement of Moy’ka, especially every time you very easily won each fight with him under you.

But at the very end of the line, he sees a pair of warriors not training. With a frown, he moves over to tell them off for disobeying his instructions, but once he realises where they’re looking and what they’re discussing, he simply stands to the side to listen.

“Eywa, look at Moy’ka,” Ta’ru snorts, smacking Tsekoye in incredulous amusement. “Trying to spit game at her.”

“As if he could get with her,” Tsekoye leers, and Aonung smirks quietly to himself. But the next words have that grin smacked off his face. “I know she isn’t picky about who she spends her time with, but even Moy’ka is pushing it.”

“That’s practically the new iknimaya,” Ta’ru smirks. “Fucking the freak.”

At that, Aonung’s heart drops ominously in his chest. He doesn’t like the connotation of that at all, that you’re so common that most of the warriors have experienced you. And he certainly doesn’t like the realisation that you’re giving pleasure to other, unworthy, snivelling skxawngs.

“She sure is freaky,” Tsekoye chuckles, looking infuriatingly smug with himself in a way that makes Aonung want to pound him into the sand for some strange reason. “She’s good though.”

“Yeah, these other Metkayina girls have nothing on her,” Ta’ru snickers. “Shame she’s spreading her love and not sticking around, I could teach her the ways of the reef, if you know what I mean.”

“What, you want to be her teacher?” Tsekoye skeptically asks his friend. “And how would Aonung feel about that, if you try to replace him just so you can fool around?”

Aonung’s ears prick up. He’d never really liked Ta’ru at the best of times, but he should step carefully with what he says next. Going against your future Olo’eyktan isn’t a smart move at the best of times, and Aonung isn’t in the most patient mood.

“Hey, at least I’ll get around with her,” Ta’ru shoves Tsekoye. “Maybe she’ll do that mouth thing again.”

“She smells good too,” Tsekoye. “I could tell when she was doing that thing. She smells like jasmine and amber and… there’s one more thing,” he grumbles. “I just can’t think of it-”

“So maybe you should do less thinking,” Aonung rumbles, finally cutting into the conversation without bothering to hide the irritation in his voice, “and get back to training. You know, like you’re supposed to be doing.”

Both warriors flush and scramble into positions, muttering apologies and blah blah blah. Aonung just rolls his eyes and stalks away towards you. He can see just how well your fight is going; Moy’ka is pinned below you for the eleventh time, and Aonung feels another surge of irritation that he’s obviously making no real effort to buck you off him.

Aonung stands beside the two of you for a few moments, where you’re clearly growing bored with the fight and irritated with the lack of any real competition. Aonung isn’t used to being ignored, so of course his patience is thin as he waits, eyes narrowed and arms folded.

Eventually you slowly roll your head up to glower at him, as though it was Aonung’s fault that you’re stuck with this skxawng. Nothing is ever Aonung’s fault, or at least, no one had ever said something was Aonung’s fault. But it had been stubbornly obvious, and increasingly so in the last month, that you couldn’t give two fucks about treating him with the respect due to an Olo’eyktan’s son.

“Yes?” you say stiffly, carelessly cracking your neck before resuming your bored glare.

“I need to speak with you,” Aonung says clearly, his irritation and now impatience evident once more.

“Right now?” you ask, your voice dull and eyes disinterested.

“Yes,” Aonung responds curtly.

But you don’t stand up. His tone could not have made it plainer that he’d said an order. You may not care if he’s the future Olo’eyktan, but he was still your superior, and respect was due. And now people are starting to look over, and unless you want to cause a scene, it’s obvious that you should just go with Aonung.

Reluctantly, you clamber up. Aonung doesn’t offer you a hand, and he doubts you would have accepted it anyway. Wordlessly, the two of you leave the training grounds, both ignoring the watchful eyes on your backs as you trail along the beach.

Girls are staring with envy at you, but Aonung notices you pretend you can’t feel the burn of their glares on your back. It also reminds him that while he’s been abstaining from other girls and solely living off the pleasure you provide him, you’ve also been partitioning your time with others. That particular remembrance sparks that same irritation, and he finds his face folding into an frown.

Which is deepened by the gaze on his back, of all the male warriors lusting after you. Really, he’s disappointed. His warriors shouldn’t be desiring a freak, an outsider. Even if it makes him a hypocrite, Aonung would prefer to be a hypocrite that didn’t have to share.

And then, finally, the gazes are promptly cut off as you pass through the edge of the bay. You don’t question Aonung leading you over the rocks, and he’s surprised by your placidity, when he usually can’t get you to shut the fuck up. You just keep your head up and follow him, slightly confused and definitely suspicious.

You’d had too many incidents of this, agreeing to “private discussions” with Aonung which end up with either you or him getting fucked out to the point you’re panting (or even practically sobbing after one unfortunate yet extremely satiating occasion), or often both.

Finally, you pass over the rocks sheltering the main bay of the village and step onto the soft sand of the beach beyond. Aonung doesn’t walk any further, so you pause beside him, standing by the rock wall.

“Is there a reason we’re here?” you ask. “Would you like something, or did you just bring me to this ominous empty beach to do… what?”

“You’ve been messing around with the clan,” Aonung says plainly, and your brows furrow. “With the warriors. I do not approve-”

“Is that you’re worried about?” you scoff. “Aonung, it is none of your business-”

“I am to be your Olo’eyktan-”

“To be. Not yet,” you say through gritted teeth, but you’re biting your tongue a lot more than usual. Usually by now, you’ve either descended into shouting or irritable violence, or you’re getting your annoyance out in other ways.

“I still outrank you,” Aonung counters. “I am a higher warrior, I am your commander.”

“So what, then?” you ask lewdly. “You want me to stop distracting your warriors? Am I tainting the purity of your clan by fucking around with my freakishness? Or is there another reason you’re acting so strange that you don’t want to say?”

“Like what?” Aonung frowns.

“You’re acting hypocritical,” you state. “Again. Like always. You’re always giving shit for people fucking me when you do the exact same. I’m as na’vi as you are; my skin colour and build doesn’t make me any different. As soon as anything comes to sex between me and some other guy that isn’t you-”

You cut yourself off, mouth parted in comprehensive surprise and eyes instantly jumping to meet his. Aonung squints at you, confused by your sudden apparent understanding of something he has no fucking idea about, and maybe even a little disorientated by the way you’re staring, wide-eyed, at him.

“What?” he asks, maybe even a little nervously.

“Are you jealous?” you ask incredulously.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Aonung blinks for a moment. You stare back, waiting. Arms folded, brows raised, a skeptical, startled look on your face. He blinks again.

“No.”

“Right,” you say blankly, with that infuriatingly incredulous on your face. Aonung has a desire to wipe that look off your face; your clear disbelief that he isn’t jealous (which his is not) makes him feel uneasy. He doesn’t need you of all people thinking he’s jealous of whatever the fuck you choose to do. He doesn’t care that much. He doesn’t care. “So why are we here then?”

“I- uh…” Aonung says, disoriented for a moment as he fishes in his mind for something to say. Then it lands on something Ta’ru and Tsekoye said, and he clings to it like Rotxo to Kiri. “What’s your mouth thing?”

“What?” you laugh incredulously.

“Your mouth thing,” Aonung says, throat feeling dry for some reason the longer you keep him pinned under the gaze of your yellow-golden eyes. “What is it? How come you never did it with me?”

You laugh again, a bright, amused sound that isn’t just from your lips, Aonung can see the glitter in your eyes as you grin at him.

“Aw, do you feel left out fishlips?” you grin, stepping closer.

“I’m just… no… no.” Aonung swallows, inwardly shouting at himself. Why is his throat so dry? “Do I not make you feel good enough?”

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to be a good boy,” you say slyly, stepping closer again, and Aonung finds himself shifting back a little. “A little reward.” Aonung blinks down at you, eyes wide and heart thumping strangely loud. “But you’ve been impatient and hypocritical, haven’t you?”

“No,” Aonung says firmly, and you laugh again.

When you step forward, Aonung once again finds himself shrinking back from the intensity of your golden gaze. But there’s nowhere left to go, because his back is met with cool, solid rock. You cock your head at him, and he does his best to maintain your gaze.

“Do you want me to show you?” you ask innocently, and Aonung nearly scoffs. You couldn’t be further from innocent; that was clear by the way you’re moving closer even as he’s backed against the rock wall. But then you’re cocking your head, clearly waiting for an answer. It’s evident you know what his reply is, but you’re having too much fun to let him off too easy. So with movements so tentative it makes Aonung cringe, he nods.

He’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for you to lean in, for your hands to reach up to rest on his shoulders. He wasn’t anticipating them to slide down over his chest, over his abs. He watches with bated breath as they reach his tewng, where embarrassingly, he’s already hard.

You smirk up at him before lightly shoving at him and pushing him right against the rock wall. He obliges, remembering what you said about being a good boy and watches as you slide his tewng away and reach out to grab his hard length.

He nearly jerks away. Your hand feels small and cold, one steadying against his chest, the other soft and immobile on his cock as you pause. He’s not sure why he’s so restless; this isn’t the first time he’s felt your hands on him, but there’s something about this experimentation for him, something about having no idea what you’re going to do next, something about being too nervous to predict.

And then you’re doing something he never would have thought of. You’re sliding down his body and kneeling in front of him.

Aonung is so breathless from the sight of you on your knees in front of him, those bright golden eyes looking up at him through your lashes, lips soft and slightly parted. If he thought about it (which he doesn’t, does not), you could almost be pledging your allegiance. It takes him a moment to remember what’s going on while he’s distracted by your kneeling, but when your hand wraps itself around his length.

You blink up at him before leaning in, eyes still fixed on his, and licking a long stripe up his length. Automatically, Aonung flinches back, sucking in a sharp gasp and tail swinging in shock behind him, and you pull away a few inches, frowning up at him.

“You good, fishlips?”

“What- what?”

“Do you want me to do this?” you ask with a small frown. “If you don’t like it, or if it doesn’t feel good I can stop-”

“NO!” Aonung blurts quickly, loudly. Your brows furrow deeper, and he flushes. “I mean, you don’t have to stop. It felt good, I just… I wasn’t expecting it.”

Your frown fades to a small smirk, and you tighten your grip around his length slightly. When Aonung tenses, you lick another stripe along his length before closing your lips around the tip and swirl your tongue. Instantly, his head is tipped back against the stone, throat tight and body tense as he struggles to hold himself back. He doubts you’d approve of him accidentally thrusting in your mouth and he himself doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you.

Besides, you’re holding his hips still against the rock in a cruel imitation of how he’d pin you back, ignore your squirming and even overstimulation. This feeling is completely new, and you slowly bob your head up and down his length, curling your tongue on the underside, dragging warmly against his sensitive flesh.

And when you inhale deeply and take him down your throat, all warm and wet and hot around him, Aonung finds his hand falling to sink into your long dark hair, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a soft, rumbly, “fuck”.

And when he hits the back of your throat and you accidentally moan around his length, his hips accidentally buck into your mouth despite all his best efforts to compose himself, despite your small hand holding him back against the rock. Instantly your eyes fill with tears and Aonung hurriedly pulls you off him with a gentle grip on your hair.

“Shit, sorry,” he groans, flushing deeply. “Are you okay?”

“Just sit back,” you say, voice slightly lower than usual, a slight rasp to it that makes his ears prick up uncontrollably and send a thrill through his tail. “Be a good boy, yeah?” you add with a little playful pat to his ass, and Aonung rolls his eyes.

The retort on Aonung’s lips tumbles out as a low groan as you quickly take him back into your mouth, forcing yourself further down his length. You quietly pray to yourself that Aonung, having obviously never gotten sucked off before, doesn’t know that you’re struggling this much to fit him into his mouth. You sure as fuck aren’t about to tell him just how big his dick is.

Once again, Aonung leans against the rock wall to steady himself, head tipping back in ecstasy as you continue to soldier your way further down his length. Finally, your nose brushes against his navel, and you brush over Aonung’s grip in your hair, a silent indicator that it’s alright for him to move. You pass him the reins.

It’s a dance between his hips rolling his cock into your throat and his large hands guiding your head up and down his length. He’s being more gentle than you would have thought; he usually fucks with purpose, but his hands are gently tangled in your hair, and every so often gather it back up so it doesn’t fall into your face.

Aonung feels like he’s an inexperienced teenager again. Not that he’s ever felt anything like this, but the sensitivity of him, and the fact he’s probably likely to come at any given moment if he meets your defiant gaze doesn’t exactly match up the confident person he is. Especially when you suck the tip of his cock back into your mouth, the first mouth he’d ever felt.

All the while you watch hip, eyes flicking up to his face. He’s not looking at you in particular. Aonung’s head is tipped back against the rock, throat bobbing with heavy swallows of moans, but his little whimpers and groans and curses tumble through the gaps.

And Aonung was about to lose his mind. He was determined to avoid your gaze, which he could feel burning into his face. He couldn’t hold it right now, match your glare or confusingly understanding look that drives him crazy, no. Any sort of glance at you would be too much, and then he’d lose control. He’s already practically leaking into your mouth as it is.

Your mouth is so small and warm and wet. He’s barely restraining his moans as it is, but with your tongue swirling around him, your cheeks hollowing and the sensitive flesh brushing against your soft, swollen lips, Aonung’s dangerously close to the edge.

It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s hot. It’s a warm mix of saliva and precum that’s shining over your lips and when Aonung finally can’t take it anymore, he sees it’s dripping down your chin to your tits. And the longer he looks, the more he stares, and the less likely it is he can look away again.

And then when Aonung notices, it’s all over. Your eyes are brimming with tears, lashes dark and wet as you stare up through them. Your lips are puffy and shiny, and every so often you let out these little moaned whimpers that vibrate around him and shove him closer and closer to the edge. Your lips are flushed and practically fucked by his length, and that’s what makes him leap headfirst over the edge.

Aonung’s a mess of strangled groans and bucking hips and hands sinking into your hair as he hungrily crests. Your tongue slides along the veins and ridges of his cock, and he knows this could probably kill him. Still, there are worse ways to go.

When he finally comes undone, when he finally comes back to himself and remembers to pull you off him, he feels like you’ve punched the fucking breath out of him. It’s just you, he decides. It’s not like this with anyone else, this tense, this hot, this tight.

With what is only immense courage, Aonung tentatively tilts your face up towards him. You look like an absolute mess; hair slightly dishevelled from his desperate grip, eyes watery and lips puffed and swollen. But you’ve never looked so beautiful as now, your face ruined by his length, glowing tahnì scattered with his own release.

Which is how Aonung comes to the realisation that he does think you’re beautiful.

“Are you alright, forest girl?” he asks quietly, hand still gently holding your face up to him. You smile weakly, not bothering to wipe the shine of tears and release on your face.

“Forest girl,” you reply quietly. “What happened to freak?”

Aonung laughs under his breath. Even he doesn’t have an answer to that, not one he can explain with words in any case. Instead, he reaches out to brush your face clean and pulls you up to your feet. You don’t protest. As you stand up, he catches your scent in the warm beach air.

The training grounds are still full when you return, but neither of you miss the careful stolen glances at the pair of you returning from across the sand. Aonung pays no mind to any of them, instead strolling right over to Ta’ru and Tsekoye.

“It’s lillies,” Aonung whispers, a sly grin stretching his face.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

#aonung #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #aonung x female reader #aonung x reader #avatar smut #aonung fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar #avatar the way of water #aonung smut

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writinginthetwilight · 6 months

Text

You Look Good In Green.

Eddie Munson x Bartender! Fem! Reader.

>>Summery: Between a deli and a laundromat in down town Indianapolis, a bar sits unassuming. Almost derelict looking from the outside, to the untrained eye. But by night shes a different beast.

>>Author note: This is my first ever time posting my writing and I am terrified.

But this story has been floating around my head for at least 18 months and I've finally gotten the courage to get it down.

I'm dyslexic as shit so I'm sorry if their are any mistakes, but sometimes even spell check and Grammerly can't help me. Enjoy.

>>Series warnings: 18+ only, strangers to friends to lovers, jealous!Eddie, jealous!Reader, fluff, pining, angst, drinking, smoking of the devil's lettuce, strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, slow burn.

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1 - Late

As late September arrives, so does a yearly nostalgia. The unforgiving summer sun gives way to cool fall air and it filters into the days with muted colours and spiced smells.

A whisper of a suggestion of what's to come. Promises of long nights and short days, curled up indoors hidden from the elements.

But late September is a trap.

A trap you are currently caught in, a trap of an unnecessary amount of layers as you rush down the street, weaving between people and ripping the olive green knitted hat from your head, sweat beading at your hairline.

Quiet curses come from you as your bag slips down your arm, sending you twisting off kilter and stumbling forward.

This wasn't how this morning was meant to go.

This wasn't the plan, you had wanted a leisurely breakfast, shower and moisturise, maybe fit in a few errands on the way to work.

But now you were late and warm, the deceptive cool air vanquished by a clear day and the midday sun.

Turning the corner you rush towards the bus stop, with just enough time to join the last of the passengers as they board. Letting out a sigh of relief your chest burns with the excursion as you finally settle for the first time today.

Sweet soft hazy waking had been ripped from you with a punch of adrenaline at the sight of your radio alarm clock.

Plain bread straight from the packet, mismatched clothes, a gargle of mouthwash, spilt kibble scittered across the linoleum floor and then you were out the door.

The bus hissed and took off. You shed the rest of your layers and placed soft headphones over your ears, closing your eyes you let Iron Maidens Wasted Years calm you. Light dancing behind your eyelids, stuttering between the buildings that pass.

The first stop comes and you feel yourself jostling to a stop, the increase in chatter on the once sparsely populated bus is muted behind your music and you eyes lazily open to glance at the new passengers.

A woman with a tight perm, dressed head to toe in soft pink boards. Her mouth moves quickly talking to the driver as she rifles through bags, gathering her things and turning, her eyes survey the bus. She catches your eye and you look away quickly, but it's too late.

From your peripheral you see movement and before you have a chance to process, pink clothes and plastic grocery bags are encroaching on your 20 minutes of rest. Bewildered, you look up and back away from the woman, pulling you headphones from your head.

"-and it's just so lovely-” she says, shoving a bag into the ever decreasing space around your knees “- I can't resist you know." She slumps heavily into the chair turning to face you expectantly.

"Yeah." you say unsure as to what you're agreeing to, she beams and pats your knee.

You twist awkwardly against the inordinate amount of grocery bags which have been stuffed into the space around your legs. You're not an ass, if the bus is busy and somebody needs the space next to you, you don't mind polite chit chat.

But you weren't prepared for this.

You thought the empty seats surrounding you and headphones would be enough to guarantee 20 minutes of solitude. Enough time to mourn the morning you had wanted and collect yourself. Evidently you were wrong.

June she's called, but her birthdays in 3 weeks, she informs you with a chuckle. She smells of rose soap and jingles when the bus goes over speed bumps. She has three grown sons and her Liam would just love you. 5 grand kids and a pocket full of cloudy white hard candies that click against her teeth when she talks.

You can barely get a word in, so stop trying, and as the heat through the bus window prickles your neck, you get antsy, over-stimulated and finally you stand abruptly.

“This is my stop.” you say stumbling awkwardly trying not to trample over the woman's bags as you escape the seat next to her

She makes no effort to move. “Oh, oh okay honey, well you take care now.” you give her a quick tight smile pulling the cord and quickly making your way off the bus to the street below.

This isn't your stop.

You stare up at the clear sky, jacket and bag fisted in your hands. With a sigh you fish out your tape deck and begin to walk.

...

Gus's bar sits squat and unassuming between a deli and laundromat in downtown Indianapolis, no sign or name other than the red neon open sign which sits askew in the right side window. When you finally arrive after the 15 minute walk, which you really didn't need before a 10 hour shift, the door squeals as you make your way indoors.

The usual low lights of the dark wood interior are off in favour of the bright main ones and you frown in confusion as you make your way over to the bar. Dumping your belongings atop, a toolbox and loose bolts lay haphazardly beside them. That's when you recognise the distinct lack of bar railing.

You're drawn to the light filtering in under the door at the end of the bar and the low murmur of music gets louder as you approach.

“Afternoon.” Gus gruffly greets you without looking up as you push open the door.

The poor excuse of an office, more of a cupboard really, is already overfilled. Stuffed floor to ceiling with stock and files, broken pitchers gathering dust and fading post it notes that were here long before you.

Now the mountain of a man before you has dragged in the brass railing which sits across his lap, almost scratching the ceiling.

He glances up to you when you don't respond, pushing up his glasses to the top of his head.

“What are you doing?" you say from your place leaning against the door frame.

He shrugs. “Decided to give it a polish up.”

“And you're in here because?”

“ Chairs in here.” he says simply as he leans back into the peeling red leather seat with a groan, as if to illustrate his point.

“But why did you remove it? “

“Jazz darling, if I get down out there I ain't getting back up.”

“But you had to get it off so, surely you would have to- You know what it doesn't matter, next time wait for me.”

He hums, your lateness is unmentioned but obviously noticed, he glances you up and down.

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks” you say dryly and make your way to the back of the room, squeezing behind his chair, ducking your way under the railing as you go

“So, what's the occasion”you say flipping through an order file, “these guys special or something.”

Gus snorts, “If Angie's last pick is anything to go by. No.”

You grimace at the memory of the letchy men who had arrived last week, faces painted and loud. They had wailed KISS while you and Gus watched on with pained smiles until he finally stopped them, and told them he'd be in touch.

“What time are they coming?”

“Two, got deliveries due soon though”, you nod, taking that as your cue to get on and make your way out.

He catches your arm gently before you can leave, tattooed hand holding you back.

“You good?” he says and his face holds a softness he doesnt dole out to many.

You deflate slightly, releasing the tension you were still holding onto.

“Yeah” you say smiling at him, he looks at you for a beat, nods and lets you go.

You busy yourself with signing for deliveries and putting them away, the weekly tasks that are muscle memory now, working in tandem with Gus in a rhythm made over the past 4 years. Music and banter fills the gaps. Footsteps echoing around the large space, which despite what it may look like from the outside sprawls back and out, well kept and clean.

It's a different beast in the day. Quiet and still, shadows that usually hide at the edges and corners laid bare.

....

Thursdays night have been your baby for around 18 months now. Gifted to you after a particularly nasty fight, where Angie demanded Gus give you more responsibility. A balm for the fact that he spent every night at the bar, and although she loved the place, she wants time alone with him, or at least the option.

When Gus had been satisfied that you could handle the place with the help of a couple of extra bar staff if needed and the door man George, he had agreed, in theory, to let you plan the nights as you wanted. As long as he was kept in the loop.

College kids and people who worked the weekend shift appreciated your deals on drinks and open mic nights. With new regulars and enough turn over to rival the weekend Gus had tentatively agreed to finding you a regular band to play.

It had all been duds so far, heavier bands you sought after out of town or only passing through. Others already had a place in rotation at the weekends and they didn't much like the idea of downgrading to a Thursday. The other, just, hadn't been great.

Around quarter to two you and Gus set up the stage, which was really more of a oversized box step, and waited.

For 45 minutes, they were 45 minutes late. Gus had eventually gone back to his office grumbling to let him know if they showed up, and as 3 o'clock approached you would soon be opening up so you went about getting the bar ready to serve.

You heard them before you saw them, the dishwashers cycle coming to and end in tandem with the last of a raucous argument which petered out the further through the door the voices came. You poked your head out from the back and spotted them looking around the space as they spoke at a more tempered volume.

“Can I help gentlemen?” you walk out behind the bar to observe them. They all turn and one separates, raising his hand to the others as he approaches you. Long dark curls frame his face and he makes immediate eye contact.

“Hi sweetheart” he starts with a tip of his head. There's a familiarity in his eye which confuses you but you only raise your eyebrows in response. He straightens eyes searching yours. “we're here to see Gus.”

He's pretty, and once upon a time the charm which obviously rolls off him would have made your face heat and voice stutter, but now, well, you've met a lot of pretty faces.

“And we are?” You say with a small smile and his face falls for half a second but he recovers quickly. Smoothing his hands over the bar, large rings on his fingers softly scraping the wood.

“Corroded Coffin”

You lean on the bar towards him and he grins back at you, “You're late.”

He falters fully now and the rest of the band comes to his rescue.

“We’re sorry about that, we got turned around and the traffic was terrible” one of them says coming up on the right, he has dark skin and sincere eyes and you watch as the other two members come in on the left one stocky, pale with tight curls and the other looks a little younger, more flustered and they nod their heads quickly in agreement.

You look over them all, your annoyance diminishing slightly at the realisation that they all look flustered. Pot kettle black you think and lean away from them.

“Gus! The talents here!”

They all jump back at the sound of Gus appearing into the room

“ Boys!” his voice booms in a timbre which fills the empty bar.

They all scramble to greet him, spilling apologies and exchanging four of the most awkward handshakes you've ever seen. Introductions are made and you give a small wave as Gus tells them you run Thursday nights so your opinion will be equally as important.

They look small next to Gus for all their leather and chains, but at six and a half feet most do.

“So, we've only got around 20 minutes before we open up so let's get this started” he says with a clap of his hands and they all nod and head over to the stage.

You watch them amused as Gus sits himself on the opposite side of the bar and claps his hands again, “Okay boys when you're ready.”

The opening bars to War Pigs has you holding the urge to roll your eyes, but Gus gives a satisfied nod and you wonder if Angie had possibly given a few pointers for the songs they should play.

“Generals gathered in their masses. Just like witches at black masses”

The opening lines have you and Gus turning to each other with wide eyes.

This guy has pipes. Their nerves are still evident but they start to relax into it as you and Gus nod along with the beat.

About half way in, Gus holds up his hand and cuts the song short. “We maybe don't need the whole 8 minute rendition today.” he says with a chuckle.

You smile at them and Eddie stammers “Yeah. Hah, no, yeah, of course." Shaking his head he turns back to the band. They all communicate silently and the start of Metallicas For Whom The Bell Tolls rings out.

Gus, does not with hold his eye roll when he turns to see you grinning. Angie's definitely had a word. The boys see your face and they all exchange a look as they get into the meat of the song. Gus's head bobs despite himself but when his arm goes up to stop them again you slap it down mouthing don't at him.

They end with a flourish and you give them a small round of applause to which they bow.

“Okay boys we got time for one more.”

This one, you don't recognise, and you assume its an original and has obviously been chosen to show each of them off. Guitars shredding, drums crashing, it's shorter but impressive nonetheless.

When they finish you both give them another small round of applause before Gus slaps his knees and stands, arching his back with a crack.

“Well boys you've definitely got some talent,” he makes his way over and they beam at him “give me some time to think. I'll be in touch.”

It sounds dismissive and from the smiles dying on their faces, you know they hear it too, it makes your chest ache. Gathering up their belongings a silence falls over the bar.

You lean forward on the tips of your toes gripping the opposite side of the bar “Get their number” you say with a quiet hiss.

“What?” Gus says,with a look on his face you can't decipher, either he doesn't know why you're saying what you are or he genuinely didn't hear.

Regardless you say a little louder “You haven't got their number.” they all look over at you this time and Gus’s face says he heard you the first time.

As he walks over to you, you can't help the satisfied smirk, he scowls and plucks the pen you offer from your fingers.

When all is said and done you wave them goodbye with a tight smile on your face the door squeaking closed behind them.

Gus turns, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “That needs oiling.”

...

As the afternoon bleeds into evening so do the low lights and regulars who prop up the bar. The jukebox and clacking of pool balls are background noise to your pleads.

“They play one Metallica song”, Gus says as he heaves a barrel out of the back.

“Well Gus, they played it well.”

He hisses holding his back and turning to you as you stand arms crossed and frowning.

“Dave and the boys-”

“Don't come in on thursdays!” you say throwing your arms up in exasperation.

As if summoned, Dave gingerly moves to the bar. “Can I get another Jazz?” Gus takes this as his escape slipping out from behind the bar and quickly across the room disappearing into a booth.

You grit your teeth “Yeah coming up Dave”. You except defeat.

The evening moves on and Gus stays in place with Dave and Phil appearing from drinks which you serve to him in silence. Sulking you busy yourself with polishing glasses.

“How'd my boy do!?” Angie's voice appears from behind and you turn to see her leaning on the bar. Eyes shining bright and mischievous.

“Your boy?” you say moving to fix her a drink

“Eddie, long hair” she says combing long purple nails through her own dark curls.

“Intense eyes?”

She clicks her tongue at you and winks “How'd they do.”

“Good actually, really good.”

“Yeah?” she claps her palms excitedly “I told him!”, she looks around “where is the big grizzle.”

“Hiding.” you say sliding over her dink and popping a cigarette between your lips.

“Hiding?” she half laughs “Why?” You give her a knowing look and she rolls her eyes in annoyance.

“Where is he?” she says, looking around and spotting him, his head’s ducked back facing her.

“Hey Angie.” Phil says brightly and Dave elbows him as Gus winces at the mention of her name.

“What the hell.” she grabs Gus by the shoulder forcing him to look at her and his two friends slip out of the booth quietly.

“Ang.”

“Don't you Ang me. Those boys are good and don't tell me they're not because I know you ain't a liar.”

“They're kids” he defends and she throws her head back.

“My boy is 24 years old and the others ain't far behind.”

“Exactly” he says and she looks at him frowning, making a sweeping motion to you and you look over, confused.

“they weren't wearing face paint!” You yell over making Gus bark out a laugh while Angie sends you a glare that makes you duck away.

She settles in beside him and places her hand over his “Give them a shot.”

“They were almost an hour late Ang” he whines and she bristles beside him.

“Almost an hour?!” She bites her lip and squeezes his hand.

“One night, a trial run, unpaid. Please.”

He sighs scrubbing his hand over his shaved head.

“One night.”

....

The drive home had started fine but turned sombre as the adrenaline faded, arriving home to their shared apartment with little to no conversation the band split off into their respective rooms for the rest of the afternoon.

Eddie lays staring at the water mark on his ceiling. Mind a skipping record.

They had played well, he knows that.

But between Gareth losing his mind over trying to find his lucky drumsticks ten minutes before they needed to leave, and a wrong turn which meant they had to loop round half the city, he'd sworn to the guys he knew the way almost boasted, he'd been there before. But in daylight the roads were congested and if Jeff had said ‘ we’re going to be late’ one more time.

Then you hadn't remembered him, it was stupid, you'd barely spoken before really, but. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He couldn't face Angie tomorrow.

A soft rapping on his door pulls his attention, without a response it creaks open and a solitary hand appears into the room, a joint placed between the fingers.

He huffs a laugh and scrubs away at the sting of frustrated tears.

Opening the door Grant stands mouth twisted to the side and Eddie plucks the joint from his fingers mutely and walks to the living room knocking on his other two housemates on the way.

In slow succession all the boys seat themselves around the small TV, splayed out on beanbags and the threadbare second hand couch they had hauled up the building just last week.

Blue light bathing over them they lazily pass the joint around and finally the silence is slowly broken with ribbing comments and contagious laughter.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone has all the boys stopping stock still, minds catching up with themselves, looking at one another. It rings again and they all scramble up and over to it.

Eddie grabs the phone, knuckles white as he grips it “Hello?”

The bar is a low murmur in the background for a beat “Hi are the uhh-,” Gus’s voice trails away and it has Eddie's heart pounding, he grips his hair at the crown of his head as the rest of the band huddle in. There's muffled voices and he swears he can hear you and Angie's voices faintly “ Is this the corroded coffin boys?” Gus tries again.

“That's us” he almost yells, hand releasing his hair as he winces.

Gus chuckles and it vibrates down the line “You boys free Thursday?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fem!reader #my writing #first fiction #Bartender!Reader #fanfic #fan fiction

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marknee · 1 year

Text

bts fanfics i think shakespeare is rolling around in his grave about right now.

chapter i. ✷ chapter iii.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — dude, what has that grave ever done to you?

( ♬ ) — i think we broke him.

( ✎ ) — he hasn’t moved in a while. should i check on him?

( ♛ ) — he’s deceased. again. dunno if that’s possible.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content will be highlighted in bold.

NOTE: yes, this is a series now. exciting, am i right? i fear there are too many incredible fics on this app to fit them into one part, so this will be multiple parts — you can access the masterlist above! leggo.

⠀

( ✮ ) CASTAWAYS — by @rmnamjoons

!! namjoon x reader | 25.5k !!

smut (18+) with plot, slow burn, fluff, angst if you squint, happy ending, so much teasing.

you ever seen the 2000 film ‘cast away’? the one with tom hanks and his inanimate volleyball named wilson? yeah, this fic is exactly what that film should’ve been. it largely lacked the existence of namjoon, and the undeniable sexual tension we were denied for a throwing ball.

namjoon’s characterisation in this is unreal. he’s so gentle and tender with his words, yet so rough and unforgiving within the sheets. you almost don’t realise it’s the same person, but am i complaining? not really. quite the contrary actually.

also, i like that it’s very realistic in some aspects. everything they do to survive on an island is exactly what you imagine yourself doing if you were dropped into their shoes, lost and fearful that any moment might just be your last.

though i went through years of scouting myself, i do not feel i am equipped enough to survive on a deserted island with an embarrassingly hot guy i met days prior. but if miss y/n can do it with less experience than i, then o ye of little faith.

i wish i could engrave this fic into my brain so i can read it whenever i please, so i guess i’m just lucky it exists here on tumblr for free. an honour, really.

@rmnamjoons has outdone themselves yet again.

⠀

( ♬ ) TAMPED — by @chimoona

!! jungkook x reader | 19.7k !!

smut (18+), fluff, humour, slow burn, mild angst/jealously, barista!au, lil bit of yoongi smut.

never mind shakespeare, this fic had me rolling around in my grave. and i’m not even dead.

if you had to choose any piece of advice to take away from this essay, let it be do not read fics like this in public. or in the presence of literally anybody. you will either a) start kicking your legs and squealing, or b) throw your phone and need a moment to compose yourself. learn from me, yes?

min yoongi is the funniest mf in this, especially in the way he teases the reader about not having been laid in a millennium. he makes this fic just an absolute treat to read. and the friendship with seokjin is so incredibly warming. you can feel the fondness they have for each other bursting through the pages (…screen? have i said that before?).

but, undoubtedly, what pulls everything together is the relationship between the reader and jungkook. it starts as toleration, then care, before it blooms into tenderness and finally, love. and you can’t get enough. of them and of the story.

you can’t help but fall in love yourself. definitely worth a read.

⠀

( ✮ ) ADJUSTMENT — by @yminie

!! hoseok x reader | 7.1k !!

smut (18+), fluff, chiropractor!hoseok, patient!reader.

the fact the authors note is, “promise it’s not a cheesy porno,” needs a mention of its own. it made me laugh, and it definitely lived up to that statement. it was better than a cheesy porno.

this fic alone at 7k does what some 20k+ fics fail to do. and that’s a talent, truly. i swear, there were moments i felt as if i was third-wheeling and intruding on something very private and very personal. i probably should’ve walked out that doctors room and left them to it.

i think i’ve said it before, but this is another great example of a good smut laced within a good plot. it was interesting, hooked you in, and left you feeling quite satisfied. content is the word i think i should say.

shame shakespeare never wrote smut, but also not really because we have authors like this who do it better.

@yminie, i’ll be keeping my eye on you. an incredible fic, really.

⠀

( ♛ ) WATERLOO — by @kinktae

!! art prodigy!taehyung x art student!reader | 13k !!

fluff, angst, some light smut, slow burn.

this was one of the first fanfics i ever read on this app. and that was what? a few years ago? wow. i’m old.

now, my memory isn’t incredible, but the fact this is one of the few fics i remember reading in a fandom i was unfamiliar to all those years ago, says a lot. about the story, the writing, and the author.

waterloo was like a soft push of the hand that guided me into the world of bts fanfics, and for that, i’m eternally grateful. i’ve never been one to dive into things straight away. i like guidance. i like ease.

so, my dear reader, if you have any friends who’re just getting into tumblr fics about bts and need that sturdy push, i solely advise you recommend this to them. but if not, this is a great fic to read otherwise.

it’s angsty, it’s cheesy, it’s cute, and it’s memorable. who doesn’t love an art prology taehyung? people who’re boring, that’s who.

⠀

( ♛ ) FROM EDEN — by @ddaenggtan

!! hoseok x yoongi x reader | 15.6k !!

greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, smut, fluff, angst, violence.

anyone else go through a greek god phase? i consumed all those stories like they were my breakfast. and as you would have it, my favourite to read about was the story of hades and persephone, also known as the coming of spring and winter.

this fic is genuinely so addictive and it really knocks the tag ‘greek god!au’ out the park. it does an amazing job of representing the story we all know and love, while adding some adaptations of its own, giving the story a unique twist.

i would happily write a five thousand word essay on how much i adore bangtan as greek gods, but i fear what would become of me if i did. so i shall not. for both my sake and yours.

as shakespeare never said, but lady gaga did: talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique.. etc.

and yoongi, for heavens sake, no pomegranates!

⠀

( ✎ ) VOID — by @btssavedmylifeblr (series)

!! bts x reader | 82k !!

space!au, science fiction, a lot of smut (18+), angst.

one of the reasons why i created this series is so i can do one of my favourite things ever: share what i love. i think there something so beautiful in the art of spreading appreciation. and usually, my friends were the ones who had to listen to these essays before you did, sweet reader. and this fic was one of those i didn’t shut up about.

by the end of my rant about this series, i don’t think they even needed to read it. i’d done it for them simply by talking. which is why, i will keep this short and simple. so i don’t do the same for you.

this series is so well thought out. every little detail, every hurdle in the road, every step seems to have been thought of before hand and it makes the journey that much more gripping. so, kudos to the author for that. extra brownie points.

every member has their role, their part, their moment in the story and they’re all indefinitely important and make up a team. alike bangtan, they’re all needed in order to make the ship work. without one, it’d be going down and they’d all be yelling timber. (love that song).

teamwork makes the dream work, people.

⠀

( ♬ ) PEACHES AND CREAM — by @snackhobi

!! jimin x reader | 9.1k !!

pure smut (18+).

let’s start with three words: lord have mercy. personally, i think that sums everything up pretty well. but if i left it at that, this wouldn’t be an essay now would it? so let’s continue.

the fact this fic was almost called ‘jimin and the fucking peach’ after james and the giant peach deserves extra credit for the absolute monstrosity of a laugh that escaped my mouth after reading that. a missed opportunity, truly.

honestly, jimin and his actions within this fic desperately need examining by a team of scientists in the study of inane methods to get someone’s attention because, and excuse my french, fuck me.

shakespeare was definitely giggling reading this. perhaps even kicking his legs. love that for him.

but, according to the key i put down for this fic, i also think we broke him. understandable, mate. same here. i’ll never be the same.

⠀

( ♛ ) OH MY GOD, THEY WERE (QUARANTINED) ROOMMATES — by @ot7always

!! jungkook x reader | 22.8k !!

college!au, roommates!au, fluff, smut (18+).

the absolute audacity.

the reader really has the gall to sit and complain about what unfortunate circumstances she’s in, all the while she’s stuck with the jeon jungkook of all people. i cannot deal. i wish my quarantine trapped me inside with one of the hottest men on the planet.

apart from that, how can you not love this fic? rhetorical question, dear reader. you can’t.

the undeniable sexual tension that lingers throughout the entirety of this story builds up, like lego pieces on top of one another, until it finally falls and breaks into two. and you can’t reject the satisfaction of it all.

i was lucky enough to have read this two years ago (three now as i’m writing this) while we were actively going through lockdown, and it does an amazing job of describing everything we were all feeling during that time. bored, worried, confused, lonely, frustrated, and horny (…just saying).

it made things a bit more bearable. and it’s got shirtless jungkook.

⠀

( ✎ ) THE WAY TO YOUR HEART — by @joonary

!! yoongi x reader | 9k !!

fluff, humour, office!au, coworkers!au.

the fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff. bet you shakespeare never said that in his life. shame. at least i beat him in something.

believe me when i say i was grinning like an idiot the whole time reading this, with my cheeks lightly aching. with this app filled to the brim with angst and heavier stories, this fic was like a breath of fresh air. a warm, hearty homemade meal after a rough day out in the merciless world.

if you’re in need of a hug but aren’t the physical touch kind of person, the solution is right here, my friend. this fic will rejuvenate your system and make you feel a whole lot better. believe me.

also, can i just say. the author made an impeccable job of leaving me even pickier about attributes of my future spouse than what i started with. like, how am i supposed to explain to someone i want a partner just like this exact, specific version of yoongi? like. i mean this one. all i’ll say is it proves difficult.

@joonary is the shakespeare we needed. instead he wrote romances disguised as tragedies where both parties die at the end. what the fuck.

⠀

( ♛ ) STUCK WITH YOU — by @taleasnewastime

!! seokjin x reader | 29.6k !!

strangers to lovers, smut (18+), angst, fluff.

is anyone else surprised @taleasnewastime is here again? ‘cause i’m not. her work is next level (naevis? is that you?). and i’m not ashamed to say i stalked the entirety of her masterlist after this masterpiece. hint, hint, nudge, nudge, people.

the chemistry etched within this fic is off the charts. everything is there. the banter, the tenderness, the angst, the longing to accept love, the grief. all wrapped into a bundle and gifted with a side of heartache and woe.

we all need a person like seokjin’s character in our lives. someone who lifts us from dark times and (re: figuratively) throws us into the light. i fear helps might be a better option of wording. am i right?

this story dragged my hopeless romantic ass on a one-way skydive to pain. and that’s without a parachute. it was more of a free fall, really.

and i’d most definitely do it again.

⠀

( ♬ ) WRAPPED TOGETHER — by @lemonjoonah

!! namjoon x reader | 18k !!

christmas!au, romance, drama, smut (18+).

you know those people who don’t listen to christmas music during the rest of the year because they swear it brings bad luck? well, they must hate me, ‘cause i’ll happily stream michael bublé’s christmas album in august if i have to. probably explains my bad luck too. great.

my point is, whenever you may be reading this post, whether it’s rainy october or sunny july, this fic is worth all the so-called bad luck.

it’s got the christmas spirit. the jolly music, the beautiful lights, the festive mood. and it’s got namjoon. it’s got namjoon, people! if that’s not tying the knot, then i don’t know what is.

in all seriousness though, i religiously come back to this fic whenever the holidays hit and the radios all over the uk start charting mariah carey and wham!. and it’ll cure any holiday blues.

@lemonjoonah may yet pop up again in this series. their work is definitely worth the time and read(ing?).

⠀

( ✎ ) HERE COMES THE BRIDE, ALL DRESSED IN PRIDE — by @hansolmates

!! jungkook x reader | 17.3k !!

fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating.

“boy, i, boy, i, boy, i know, i know you got the feels.” the feels, twice. literally the first song that came to mind when i finished this fic. and twice never lie.

unpopular opinion (i think?), i’m a sucker for when y/n is petty in fanfics. i love a good revenge story, especially when it’s rightfully deserved, pristinely plated and justly served. you know, all classy like. and this had all that in the bag.

the relationship in this fanfic was so respectful and i loved that. they considered each other’s feelings towards what they were getting into, so that gets a gold star for communication and consideration from me. yass healthy relationship!

shakespeare cannot relate. hence why he’s tagged under ‘hasn’t moved in a while.’ he’s flabbergasted such things exist. since he killed one of the parties in the only healthy relationship he ever wrote. like, bro?

an amazing story yet again from @hansolmates if you’re in need of that satisfaction. (not like that you pervs. i meant revenge).

⠀

495 notes · View notes

khaothanawat · 1 year

Text

My School President wants to subvert your expectations

(or: if you're not watching this show, you're missing out on something wonderful)

...so. I am supposed to work today, but I don't wanna and also i rewatched all four episodes of My School President last night and if I don't let out as many feelings as possible about it I might explode because I am unhinged.

so I wrote a 4,700+ word essay i'm so sorry oh my god I spent hours writing this good lord

episode 1 / the introduction

episode 1 plays out mostly as a traditional high school series might. we have gun, who is not the greatest student, but who loves music and, even more than that, loves music club - which revolves around his friends and the band they’re in. it is, as we’ll learn a few episodes down the line, his “safe zone”, and the one place in school where he’s found love and acceptance.

we also have tinn, who is the son of the incredibly strict principal and who himself is a fantastic student, good looking, admired by all the other students. he gets voted in as school president, and thus has complete control over the fate of all the school clubs - including, of course, the principal’s least favourite club (on account of how its members keep failing their classes and almost burning down the school), the music club.

the dynamic between tinn and gun is familiar to us - it’s a rivalry, with one side being very charming if a little ridiculous and the other being a traditional tsundere-type character - stern and not particularly forthcoming or unforgiving at first glance. we see little hints though, very early on, that tinn, despite his exterior, gets drawn into gunn’s music.

the end of episode 1 is our first real insight that not everything is going to go quite as expected - thanks so a slow reveal that tinn has doodled a little picture of gun singing, and written next to it the words “you’re cute. so damn cute. cuter than anyone in the world.”

it’s a well-used trope in BL romances to have the handsome, tsundere character be secretly a MASSIVE SIMP for his love interest. we’ve seen this in previous GMMTV shows, with a mid-series reveal that the tsundere has been wildly in love and putting up a ridiculous front the entire time. What MSP is turning on its head is not the fact that Tinn has feelings, but the decision to reveal it in episode 1. the traditional mid-series reveal allows romantic tension to develop in the story, the will-they-won’t-they of each moment existing because we don’t know for certain that the tsundere character has feelings. the reveal is usually used after the first kiss, when the tension is no longer needed by the narrative.

MSP deciding to remove that tension entirely completely changes the way they need to build the romance between tinn and gun, as well as subverting our own expectations around what we’re watching. tinn is no longer cool and detached and stern - he’s awkward and adorable and… completely insane, honestly, he’s just absolutely unhinged. he does not know what he’s doing and has somehow boxed himself into pretending to be a tsundere in his secret quest to help gun save the music club.

now, the tension in the story is whether tinn can get gun to stop hating him - and if, how and when gun will develop feelings for tinn.

(yeah yeah yeah yes, we the viewers know that they’ll end up together, but that’s beside the point)

I can't believe this got so out of hand that I need to use a cut - let's kEEP GOING I GUESS

episode 2 / in which we are made aware that all is truly not what it seems

episode 2 introduces us to another trope - the “secret correspondant” trope. only, of course, it’s not a secret here. we see tinn posing as ‘nong lion’ and messaging the music club to try and help them with their problem (and side note - MSP has the same structure as Bad Buddy, wherein episodes are self-contained stories; an obstacle appears and is resolved in the same episode). in fact, the show turns the trope on its head even further by having gun almost immediately suspect tinn, only to get conveniently thrown off the scent by tinn’s bestie for the restie, and the owner of the sole braincell on the show, tiw. and even beyond that, tinn does a terrible job at hiding the fact that he’s ‘nong lion’, but the show just mines this for comedy, because a huge running line in the show is that the members of the music club are, bless them, absolute dummies.

even so, the episode culminates in tinn openly helping gun in-person (on a stage in front of a bunch of other people, no less!!) and then openly vowing to help the music club win the hot wave contest.

which isn’t a super selfless move - tinn is told earlier that evening by an old music club alumni that music club members can’t date unless they win the hot wave contest. of course, one of the very first things we learn about the music club in the show is that it’s former leader lost the hot wave contest because of his girlfriend, so it seems possible that maybe that rule doesn’t actually exist anymore. but that’s for a later time.

episode 3 / remember episode 2? lets do that again but MORE

episode 3 of my school president takes the concept of subverting expectations and turns it into a whole-ass episode (and it’s perfect).

episode 3 opens with tinn going on another adorable little meltdown about how cute gun is, only for gun to be standing right there listening. another trope again, but this time - i have to wonder whether gun realises what has happened. the narrative has told us over and over that he’s sort of a dummy - the remainder of episode 3 revolves heavily around this, in fact. but he did suspect tinn of being nong lion in episode 2, he’s not always completely obtuse, and he explicitly asks tinn who he was talking about, before waving away the conversation entirely because he has more important hot wave-related things to discuss. this is one of the many instances we see of tinn conflating his own fantasies with reality - something that will become infinitely more prevalent this episode.

speaking of: tinn has to tutor gun. we see them sitting at a table and tinn has somehow made calculus sexy by drawing a heart with equations. they move closer, almost kiss and then- it is, of course, just a figment of tinn’s wild imagination. in reality, he’s yelling at gun for being a gay who can’t math. this is the first time the show tells us to be on our guard in this episode, because tinn’s little mind is going wild and not everything we see will be real.

eventually, tiw suggests they (tinn and gun) move in to his sibling’s apartment for a week to study because tiw is a romantic mastermind, and then, when tinn panics because he does not know how to be a normal person around gun, tiw suggests tinn recreate classic BL tropes with gun. like in bad buddy, tiw says. tiw played by mark pakin, who was in bad buddy. tiw who says that his favourite actor in bad buddy is mark pakin. i’ve gotten off track a little. except i HAVEN’T because -

ok, MSP is written by the same writers as Bad Buddy and directed by one of the assistant directors of Bad Buddy (and 1000 Stars), director au. this is au’s first full director role, but he’s obviously been working closely with backbone of GMMTV aof and aof appears a number of times in the MSP special episode to discuss the process of making the show, which would maybe indicate he had a decent hand in the show - or at the very least, has had a hand in helping au develop his own skills (and to be clear, au worked as part of the writing team for years before this, so he’s not new to the business by any means) (not me speculating on aof’s own staff career growth plans loool). i think it’s not a stretch to say that MSP has a very BB feel to it, and i’m so endlessly impressed that it has managed to maintain that so far whilst also forging its own identity as a show. it doesn’t feel like a carbon copy, or a poor imitation - it feels very much like it’s telling it’s own story, but it’s using a something that BB used super successfully to do so, which is the subversion of tropes. MSP goes one step further with that though, and uses it differently (helped by the fact that because BB is set in college and MSP is in high school, the tropes are naturally a lot less… well. horny.)

MY POINT BEING that that Bad Buddy call out was deliberate. they didn’t use the show just bc they had mark pakin saying the line - i think it’s likely that they felt it necessary to add in mark’s line 4th wall breaking line about himself because it was his character making the reference, but they want us to know what they’re doing. they’re referencing Bad Buddy because this show is, in a way, a spiritual successor to BB - it likely wouldn’t exist as it does if BB didn’t already exist (and wasn’t a huge hit). in the very next scene, we get a reference to the band scrubb, which is a huge 2gether reference - and, looping this all back to the creative team, au was a screenwriter for Still 2gether and aof created/directed Still 2gether. tinn’s character is a direct play on sarawat in 2gether - he is, in so many ways, sarawat, but the narrative is using him in a different way.

oh my god i legit wanted to write a one sentence post about this show how did i get here

OK GETTING BACK TO EPISODE 3 oh my god

episode 3 shows us over and over that tinn creates these vivid fantasies about being in classic romantic scenarios with gun that he then tries to turn into reality, pet tiw’s instruction - only for the reality to be a lot less romantic. in his one actual, real-life chance to get close to gun (the ballroom dance) where he’s not just trying to recreate something from a BL series, he gets so overwhelmed and nervous that he can’t dance at all, which we’re told through the loud and quick sound of his heartbeat.

and then, part way through the episode, the show starts bait-and-switching us.

first: tinn sees gun with food on his lip and fantasises about brushing it away with his thumb (an absolute romance series staple). gun licks it away before tinn can do any of that, because of course he does - but then tinn gets food on his lips and gun reaches over to brush it away. finally, tinn has ended up in a romance series moment with gun, only it wasn’t one of his own deliberate creation. it just happened.

second: tinn and gun talk at the swimming pool about themselves - finally. they’ve been living together for a week, but we don’t see them often having conversations about who they are. gun talks about seeing the music club as his ‘safe zone’. tinn explains why he became school president (to support people’s dreams). gun tells him that that’s such a handsome answer, then asks “have you used that line to hit on anyone?” tinn replies: “you.” we expect by now that it’s another fantasy moment, because we’ve been duped by the show with these moments multiple times by now, but once again the show twists things. the moment is real, tinn really says “you” and it hangs between them for a moment before he quickly changes the subject. but it’s the clearest declaration either of them have made. we don’t know what gun is feeling by this stage, however we do know that gun is in fact the one who gave them a Classic Romance Moment of brushing away food. it’s the show telling us that, whether he realises it yet or not, he’s in this too.

the third bait and switch is the Big One, except it’s not at all: we reach the ballroom dance midterm and tinn is trying to get out of dancing altogether - he still isn’t sure he can do it, he still feels overwhelmed when he tries to dance with gun, his heart races too hard and fast. gun refuses to listen to him and makes him get up. he tells tinn to close his eyes and says “let me help you”. tinn closes his eyes and suddenly the sports hall fades away - he and gun are in beautiful suits, they’re in the music club room (gun’s safe zone!), gun’s band chinzilla is playing and he and gun are dancing. throughout the episode we’ve heard tiny portions of the melody of the ballroom dance song, but now finally we hear the whole song, performed by chinzilla. as they dance together, the scene flashes between the fantasy dance, their practice dance by the pool and crucially, the actual dance that’s happening in the sports hall. as the dance comes to an end, we realise that even though we saw it happen in tinn’s fantasy, it was happening in real life too. the way they danced in tinn’s fantasy was how they really danced - staring into one another’s eyes, smiling at each other, looking completely lost in the moment. gun said “let me help you” and entered tinn’s fantasy with him. gun said “let me help you” and he’s telling us, the viewers, that tinn isn’t going to make this romance happen alone (even with the help of tiw). tinn can’t create romance moments when gun isn’t on the same page.

the final bait and switch happens in a series of parts: prior to the ballroom dance midterm, on the night after they go swimming, gun makes tinn share the bed (rather than the Bad Buddy reference sleeping arrangement they’ve been doing all week). tinn, because he’s a lunatic, asks if he can stare into gun’s eyes and gun obliges. after a moment, we hear the heartbeats again - but it’s gun that looks away and decides to go to sleep.

the episode ends, after the ballroom dance, with gun and tinn having a small moment together outside the school. gun tries to give tinn back the pencil case he borrowed earlier, because he of course does not own a pencil case. it’s one that says “i think about you” on it that gun has, obviously, doodled all over. specifically, he has drawn a cute little monster and written the name ‘tinn’ with a bunch of arrows pointed at it. you think about who now, gun? anyway, tinn tells gun to keep it, because what high school student doesn’t have a pencil case oh my god gun - and they hold hands over the pencil case for a moment. until the tinn’s mother the principal comes out of her office and tinn very gently drops gun’s hands. that’s not relevant to this, i just think it’s Big Foreshadowing. anyway. tinn leaves with his mother and gun is left standing there, staring after him. and once again, we hear the heartbeats. they’re gun’s, because of course they are. we get a flashback to the night before, to tinn staring into gun’s eyes and looking away, and we know for certain that that was gun’s heartbeat and not tinn’s, and that it’s happening again now. bait and switch - tinn’s heartbeats followed us through the whole episode, only for us to end on gun’s heartbeat, and a confirmation that yes, he’s feeling it all too.

again, the show is revealing things early. no longer do we have the tension of whether gun feels something too - now we have the tension of whether gun is going to do anything about it, or acknowledge it at all.

we're only up to episode 4 by now, and I wouldn't say that episode 4 turned much on its head that hadn't already been set up before, but I do think it serves as a way to start building up a number of new plot points, so I'm going to talk about that a little, just so that I can revisit this later once more episodes have aired.

episode 4 / resetting expectations (...sort of?)

episode 4 of my school president introduces us to a new character: tinn's original rival, sound, who joins the music club (because of course tinn has a rival).

I think it's actually really key to point out a tiny scene that happens at the beginning of episode 4, as the show is starting to lay out the plots for the episode. gun and the band are looking for a solo guitarist (hence the eventual introduction of sound). he puts posters up on a notice board. tinn comes along and, because he's a dweeb, mentions that people need permission from the school council to put up posters. gun sighs and obediently starts to take the posters down, before tinn dives in and says that he'll let gun put them up anyway, he'll make a 'special exception'. real smooth, kid.

anyway, this fascinates me, because it's such a good display of how much their relationship has changed by this point. tinn and gun have had a surprising number of scenes together in front of this notice board - mostly with gun fighting back against tinn trying to enforce the school rules as school council president. here we see gun not fight, but immediately give into tinn instead (even though tinn had no desire to win, he's just got so little game oh my god this boy has NO GAME i'm obsessed with him). gun looks thrilled when tinn lets him put up the posters anyway - he respects tinn's word enough now that he wasn't going to fight, which is so the opposite of the gun we've seen so far. it's just a really interesting story beat to throw in.

they have a little moment again (in real life) (initiated by tinn) and gun's heartbeats from episode 3 appear once more, reminding us that gun is also Feeling Things. gun runs away in a flustered panic.

(tinn, it must be said, genuinely has no idea what's going on in gun's head. because tinn is a dummy.)

from here, the dual plot lines of the episode play out pretty traditionally. story A sees gun quit the music club and tinn take the opportunity to get closer to him now that he's not beholden to the no-dating-before-hot-wave rule that definitely still exists. they do get closer. in fact, they go on an accidental date, flirt heavily over some imaginary cake, and tinn finds a position for gun in the student council that would allow him to sing and play music, story B sees sound take over the music club, who are unfocused and not actually using their practice sessions to practice, only to be a tiny teen tyrant about it. the band beg gun to come back. gun feels as though the band will have a better chance to win hot wave without him. tinn sees this happen and convinces gun to go back to the music club, because that's clearly where his happiness lies. even if gun being in the music club will inevitably put the absolutely real and very much something gun definitely is aware of no-dating-before-hot-wave rule back into play.

gun rejoins the music club, but lets sound stay (sound, to be clear, mostly joined because he thought it would piss off tinn, but we start getting the indication by the end that he could also maybe find friendship and support in the club, just as the others did). they have their traditional bbq pork meal together to celebrate being back together. it's sacred.

so, it's all fairly cut and dry - and we as viewers probably already knew where these plots were heading and that the main issues would be resolved in this episode, thanks to the self-contained episode structure of the show.

until we see gun grab a bunch of the pork and run off, away from the bbq, yelling that he'll be back soon. he goes, of course, to tinn. he, quite crucially, claims that the group have finished eating and that there was some food left over and he just wondered whether tinn might want it - once again, we as viewers know this is a lie, and are left in possession in much more knowledge than the characters in the scene. gun is making up an excuse to bring tinn food, and to hang out with tinn. if the question this episode was 'gun is having feelings for tinn; what will he do with them?', then we saw moments over the course of the entire episode that answered that. gun, unlike tinn, has apparently an abundance of game (if anything he's a little too dangerous, frankly). he jumps both feet forward into flirting with tinn, and manages to conveniently set up scenarios in which he can do that - successfully, unlike tinn in episode 3. where he's a little more in control, we don't get a return of the panicked heartbeats from the beginning of the episode.

maybe tinn had put this flirting all episode down to the fact that gun was no longer in the music club. it's not really made clear. however, now gun is back in the club, and he's abandoned the sacred bbq pork time to have a nivea micellar moment with tinn (once again, gun successfully initiating a BL romantic moment in real life, because gun is the only one here with game). he gets tinn to take a photo of them together, and so they stand pressed shoulder to shoulder, hands touching. they're smiling at each other, and the camera jumps back and forth between the way they're looking at one another and their hands. tinn, probably emboldened by how much gun has put himself out there across the entire episode, starts to move his pinky finger closer. his hand is shaking, but we see them over and over barely looking at the camera because they're too busy smiling sweetly at each other, as tinn's finger twitches closer and closer - the slowest build up in the world, as we wonder whether he'll get the guts to do it. and then finally, finally, tinn loops his pinky around gun's, and gun responds in kind, and we see a shot of them taking the photo, they're fingers out of shot but entwined.

this is almost par for the course by now - how quickly this show has put tinn and gun on a playing field of both having feelings for the other, and both being at least somewhat aware that those feelings could be reciprocated.

episode 5 and beyond / is this show impossible to predict?

it's not really something we get to see too often, the very cautious build into something more. the next episode preview doesn't really tell us anything about how that develops (but rather that gun has a lot of other stuff going on, apparently). i think this becomes it's own question - now that MSP have turned the traditional BL pacing on its head (akin to the way Bad Buddy did it before), what do they do next. with BB, we very quickly saw that the obstacles between the lead characters were almost entirely external - it's the basis of the entire show. they couldn't be together because no one wanted them to be. it made the pacing of the romance make complete sense.

with MSP, we're going in much more blindly. the boys are already on a similar page and there's no obvious obstacles between them outside of the definitely very real no-dating-before-hot-wave rule that no one in the present day music club has even spoken about or mentioned (yet?). what this suggests to me, and why this is so fascinating, is that we therefore don't necessarily know the basic conceit of the plot from here on out.

yes, we want to see how tinn and gun ultimately admit their feelings for one another, but at episode 4 of 12, the show has already done most of the work in getting them there. inevitably, we need to be faced with obstacles and there have been a small number of hints, maybe, at the things that could go wrong for them, but it's fascinating because those hints have been very sparse.

there's the perceived rivalry of the music club and the school council - which tinn has accidentally perpetuated a bunch of times, because he's a dummy. episode 4 reminds us conveniently that this is still seen to exist outside of tinn and gun's gay little bubble, when we see the two random students discussing it in the hall (this is of course also how sound ends up joining the club). it's not a particularly violent rivalry though - we're not at Bad Buddy drop kick into the chest two seconds away from breaking out into a sharks and jets style dance number. i wouldn't say it's rife for conflict, but that's sort of the thing: it's almost impossible to predict at this point what will happen. we know that chinzilla will probably perform at hot wave, and at some point tinn and gun will probably kiss. beyond that? it's anyone's guess.

another obvious obstacle that has been (honestly quite lightly) is the principal - we are literally introduced to tinn's pov in episode 2 by the concept of his mother coming in between him and gun, when he dreams about gun turning into her. he's lied to her a number of times in the name of helping gun. her character is generally quite fascinating, because she's a near-constant antagonistic presence, but it's clear she has huge amounts of love and care for her son, and she's trying to do her best by her students. she's also really frugal though - in episode 2 we learn that she and her husband would argue because she felt that music was an unnecessarily expensive hobby. a real subtle moment that i'm sure won't come back in any fashion later down the line...

the other obvious one is of course the no-dating-before-hot-wave rule which, sure, might be real, but might even become an issue in some form or another even if it's not. the reason the music club lost hot wave the year before, as we know, was because the last leader was distracted on stage by his girlfriend. this is how we meet the music club in episode 1, and we see gun vowing to win hot wave next year, because he knows it's what will save the music club.

it seems as though episode 5 is about to introduce new conflicts too, or expand upon things that have really only been very barely hinted at. but, if I know anything it's that promos are unreliable, so only time will tell how that plays ou.

it's important though, in my opinion, that the show really hasn't hit us over the head with anything here yet (except the very real very current day hot wave rule that very much definitely exists - and even then, it has only been mentioned a handful of times at most between tinn and tiw, usually as an occasional reminder to the audience more than a constant driving force for tinn's actions). these are obstacles, but they ultimately haven't been shown to cause too much issue to tinn and gun's story - or at least, tinn and gun have successfully navigated everything with almost no pushback, hence the fact that they're both sailing through their own romantic storyline at a pace faster than an olympic runner.

there's not really an ending to this post yet, because we're only at episode 4. I'm not particularly committed to any theory about where this could go (except the one about the hot wave rule being real YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME IT'S REAL AU), but from a storytelling perspective alone: this show needs a conflict. the assumption it gave us and then systematically tore apart across the first four episodes was that the conflict would be around tinn and gun realising their own feelings for one another, because that's how these shows go. that's not the central conflict in MSP. the central conflict is... uh... one of these other things. or maybe a secret different thing. i don't know. come back to me in like 6 weeks.

#my school president #tinn x gun #the total word count for this is 4787 words and um. Um.#no more meta this week bc I have written 3 posts in the space of like 5 days and they've all been exponentially more unhinged than the last #actually I blame gmmtv for not giving us a MSP episode this week because I just think. if the promise of episode 5 was around the corner...#then well. this probably wouldn't have happened.#anyway if you do have like... an hour spare and decide to read this...#pls let me know your thoughts ALSO THINGS YOU DISAGREE ON BC I WANNA KNOW THAT TOO!!!#I realise this is the evident work of a lunatic but I swear I love when other people make observations I've missed and can change my mind #show: my school president #msp: meta #ship: msp: tinn x gun

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finelydressedspacemen · 1 year

Text

AO3 First Lines

Tagged by @deinvatiwrites

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

1. All I Wanna Do Is Grow Old With You

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: A two part story I really need to finish 😬

When Arthur straps on his little half apron, he is transported.

2. I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: Probably the most out of character I’ve ever written.

Arthur slid his hand down his crimson tie, stretching the space between his fingers.

3. Cause You’re Pretty And I Like That

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Pairing: Ed/Stede

Notes: Proof you can write smut about muppets

It’s been six weeks since Ed last set eyes on the Revenge, and its shape forming in the mist is a balm on his heart.

4: Let Go Of Your Fire

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Pairing: Ed/Stede

Notes: The same story everyone else wrote after the first season finale

In the early, pre-dawn hours, the splintered wood of the Revenge’s hull was cool and damp beneath Stede’s fingers.

5. Holiday

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: An absurdly long piece of porn with a liberal sprinkling of plot

They all ignored the first flickers.

6. Uplink

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: Third in a series of astronaut AUs

“If I never see another Barnes and Noble it’ll be too soon,” Eames grouses.

7. Crush

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: Short, sweet, worth the price of admission

“You should let me shoot you out.”

8. Placebo Effect

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: What happens when an author tells themself jokes

The front desk clerk glared at Arthur, and he wasn’t sure if it was all the snow he’d let blow into the lobby behind him, or if it was the twelve groceries bags he was carrying with him.

9. Koi no Yokan

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: Obligatory amnesia fic

Arthur’s eyebrows knit as he steps out of the car.

10. After Hours

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Notes: Odd, but one I’m prouder of

There’s a pretty prevalent rumor in the dreamsharing community that Arthur doesn’t have fun.

Bonus: Include the first few lines of your latest WIP:

I have several, but here’s one:

Arthur blinks.

Arthur stares at his hands where they rest on the drying bar. The scars on his knuckles are pink and fresh. He doesn’t remember how he got them. It’s been thirty years, at least. This suit style isn’t remotely in fashion anymore. Arthur stares at the stubble on Eames’ jaw, and the color is all wrong— unforgivably blond, over skin so smooth it’s almost unfamiliar after all this time.

“Look at it this way,” Eames says. He takes a swig of his beer. “You’ve got your entire life ahead of you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur whispers, turning back to the bar. “Jesus Christ.”

Tagging: @mister-eames @wadebramwilson

#inception #arthur x eames #ao3fic #ofmd #fanfic #ed/stede

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discjude · 7 months

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What are your reasons for liking Japeth and hating Rhian II? I'm just curious because Japeth seems to be a hated character in general.

So i pasted what i wrote before into a google doc and it was over a page long so here is a very condensed version, including my original preface. there’s also a tldr at the end if you don't have half an hour

quick preface just in case people get mad at me for this (dovesso stans are gonna hate me after this one):: I am not trying to convince anyone of anything here,,, this is entirely my opinion and I'm absolutely not trying to insult anyone that doesn't like japeth!! I completely respect it if you like rhian, there's a lot of good reasons to like him and as I'm writing this I realise I don't hate him as much as I thought I did. once again this is my opinion and it's alright if you disagree :)))

My reasons for liking Japeth mostly come from how complex his character is and what role he serves in the story. Though rhian is also very complex and i’m a very big fan of him being everything tedros isn’t as a king, liking japeth is mutually exclusive to liking rhian. Other than that, my two other solid reasons for disliking rhian is the way he treats kei (neglecting everyone else who tries to get close to you because you’re prophesied to marry Sophie? Dick move bro) and the fact that he’s ever so slightly homophobic which is neither here or there

Every other reason comes from me liking japeth, which is because::

1) japeth is very very complex and mostly very well written. Chapters like flesh and blood are very clear on what he’s got going on emotionally, he’s got a very solid motivation, and if you’re really looking for it he’s a clear parallel to Rafal. If you have read any of my other posts you will know i am a sucker for parallels

2) also speaking narratively, i think him being the culmination of every other villain in the series is Very Clever!! He’s evelyn and rafal’s child, rhian’s brother, a parallel to sophie and yknow the other one!! It’s very important to me

3) (this is the big one) i think he’s quite misunderstood and i don’t think a lot of his actions were his fault??? Obviously there’s some unforgivable stuff (if you saw what soman posted last week on tiktok you know) and he’s genuinely quite insane by book 6 but it’s made clear in chapters like Rhian and the Real Thing that there is Some Shit Wrong with him, notably issues with anger and becoming too attached to people. Sort of leading on from this, I don’t think that he’s the one solely to blame for his involvement in Camelot years: i think the two main villains of the last half of the series are Evelyn Sader and Aric.

I Do Not Like Aric and I believe he’s almost entirely responsible for Japeth’s actions: because of Japeth’s over-attachment to him, he internalises a lot of Aric’s beliefs (the misogyny and only referring to them as “friends” are my best examples) and this ultimately leads to some sort of dependency, which kinda fucks japeth up a lot when aric dies.

Similarly the same sort of thing happens with evelyn and rhian. Evelyn forces a lot of prophecies onto Rhian, and that led to his delusions about becoming king which ostracised him from his brother and gives him this idea that anyone who stops him from being king is automatically wrong.

It’s worth saying that i Do Not Like Everything About Japeth. Some of his writing and dialogue really falls through, and maybe having your first canon queer couple both be absolute psychopaths isn’t a good idea?? While I don’t think the queer rep done through Japeth isnt horrible, it's. Yknow. Not good. It’s also worth saying that i don’t hate everything about Rhian!! I do think he’s also cleverly written and, again, works very well as a parallel to old rhian.

I think that’s about it and i don’t want to write any more so if you have any further questions (or if you agree with me somehow) please let me know!! It’s also worth noting that i just really like snakes and went a little wild in 2020 when i read about cool snake villain

TL,DR: japeth’s nicely written and i think he’s generally misunderstood, he’s also got some nice parallels going on, I don’t explicitly hate Rhian but i don’t like him because he treats people around him like shit. I also think that Aric and Evelyn are more responsible for the twin’s actions then the twins are themselves. I condensed this all and it's still so long

also:

#Jesus Christ this was so fucking long Im so sorry everyone #there are Still More Reasons but yknow #again again I really respect if you don't like him he is an asshole at times and I think the Touch Of The Tism I have may alter my opinion #fuck Aric though lesbians hate aric #also damn yeah I do like rhian's character more than I thought I did #thank you to whoever asked this!!! I wanted to write out my thoughts on this silly snake guy for ages and it was nice to have an opportunit #sge #tsfgae #the school for good and evil #school for good and evil #japethposting #posting this feels like hitting the denote button on a nuke but whatever

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drivingsideways · 1 year

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For AO3 Wrapped: can you please answer all? 💋

Right. So by popular demand (hahahahaha)

ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

1. How many words have you written this year?

121,711 words were published on AO3, and I have another 10k sitting in drafts, so...quite a lot? 2022 brings up my total word count on AO3 since 2017 when I first started posting on AO3 to 853,262..which..blows my mind, honestly.

Putting the rest under the cut!

2. How many works did you publish this year?

6 works, in total. This is the year when I used AO3 to “archive” rather than “publish”, which I will talk about in another year end post, maybe. But as a quick round up:

For Twenty Five, Twenty One : Rival which gives Na Heedo and Ko Yurim the romance they and we deserved, and Hakuna Matata which is a light romp in which two besties take twenty years to do what their moms had planned for them all along.

The bulk of my work was for an entirely made up fandom : The Chung Jung One Soy Sauce ad ft Lee Jung Jae & Jung Woo sung aka the Terms of Surrender series (3 works and counting), which I’ll probably continue into the next year.

I tried to FIX Lee Jung Jae’s directorial debut “Hunt”, which features his bestie/soulmate/jagiya Jung Woo Sung in Juche, which is the first of a planned two-part series.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I answered this as Rival, yesterday, but I think Juche also is pretty good.

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

Rival

As a side note, AO3 doesn’t allow me to track hits on older works in the current year, but the 2020 fic I wrote for TKEM still gets a lot of hits, perhaps from re-reads, and there are even people clicking on my older Black Sails and The Rise of Phoenixes fic, which I am grateful for.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

I have very very few readers this year compare to last few- which was as expected. But! Terms of Surrender got a comment from someone who’d subscribed to my work and just jumped into a completely niche fic and it melted my heart a bit! I still get comments on older fic that I didn’t expect anyone to be reading- just yesterday, my notifications were filled by someone working their way through my fic for Serenade of Peaceful Joy, and that was completely unexpected because (a) it was a terrible show and (b) it was a flop and (c) the fandom is dead and buried, and should stay that way.

6. Favorite title you used

“Instructions for Dancing”

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I was trying to recall if I’ve used song titles more than once -”Instructions for Dancing” this year is from “The Book of Love” by The Magnetic Fields- and I think I’ve only done it once before, using a David Gray song lyric -Tell the Stars Above (You’re the One I Love)- for the concluding part of the Stars’ verse in TKEM.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

I’ve answered this before, but just to elaborate for the ones wondering why I had to make up a fandom to write in - Lee Jung-jae and Jung Woo-sung (aka the Cheongdam Couple) are actors, producers, directors and have been the best of friends for 20 plus years. I just find their entire deal so damn charming and lovely- imagine being able to have that in such a brutally unforgiving industry. However, their combined filmography is largely what I put in the column of “TRAGICALLY UNWATCHABLE” and I feel I’m just inventing the stories that I wish they’d make and star in. They’ve only acted in two movies together- 1998′s City of the Rising Sun, which is a really good, fun film and 2022′s Hunt, directed by Lee Jung-jae, which was mediocre on the whole, though with some undeniably good elements. I just want the ahjussis to make the movies in which they are as soft with each other onscreen as they are irl, and failing that I’m going to have to write the fic. It is what it is. * shrug hands emoji *

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

I’ve written almost 100k words (including WIPs) for the characters Jang Do-chul and Kang Hong-gi; the protagonists in a fictional universe being collaboratively created by me and my babygirls (real) @rain-hat and @elderflowergin

10. What work was the quickest to write?

I think I wrote both Hakuna Matata and Instructions for Dancing in a day. (They’re quite short!)

11. What work took you the longest to write?

I took about three months to write the Terms of Surrender series, that was a total of ~ 75 k words .

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

I’ve answered this before- not too many- 3. Two are continuations of Terms of Surrender and The Exiles series, and one is a different fictional universe for the Cheongdam couple. But my head is teeming with ideas for stuff, time will tell if any of it will actually make it to a document. :D

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

Longest single work: Terms of Surrender.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

Shortest single work: Instructions for Dancing.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

I don’t publish WIPs for good reason- I’m never sure whether I will finish them, so there’s nothing on AO3 that’s in progress as such. But as I mentioned above, there are a couple of WIPs in google docs that I hope to plug away at.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Oh, this turns out to be a little hard to figure out, but I guess it would be the most boring- “Romance” ;)

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I really, really enjoyed writing both Jang Do-chul and Kang Hong-gi, as well as the assorted characters I’ve put into Terms ‘verse, but shout out to Ko Yurim (Rival) and Park Pyung ho (Hunt).

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

I didn’t much- one of the reasons is that the characters I spent most time on were sort of entirely original creations (with very little reference to any particular established canon), and that was freeing.

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I’ve been spending some time thinking about another pairing that exists nowhere but in my head and a discord chat- based off a tumblr post that I can’t find now- but basically it would be Tang Wei and Kim Hye soo starring in a Hallmark Christmas movie- with some twists.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I go back to 2020′s Destiny’s Child for a comfort read, but from this year, I think it’s been Moon River, and I re-read Juche sometimes to get me to think some more about the sequel.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

257

22. Which work has the most comments?

Rival

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

I feel that @rain-hat and @elderflowergin are my co creators for the Terms of Surrender ‘verse and also Juche, though I wrote the stories. They wouldn’t exist without my babygirls, my cheerleaders and fic conspirators. (Sorry y’all, I’m just very EMO about them)

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

Yes! Terms ‘verse and Hakuna Matata for Gin and Rain.

25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Yes! Gin wrote The Process of Discovery for Rain and meeee. (Niche pairing, best writer, you GUYSSSS)

And in creative works that were not really gifts for me but felt like it:

@revolutionaryjo did amazing, beautiful podfic for not one, but three of my fics: 2 parts of The stars are filming us for no one and Aphrodite Comes Calling , all three for TKEM fandom

@rhea314 did a stunning podfic of Tell Me the Truth About Love and it made me cry and fall in love with my own fic again.

26. What’s your most common category?

M/M

27. What do you listen to while writing?

I’ve taken to making playlists for thinking about fic- thematic playlists- usually because something in the lyrics pings me as appropriate for the characters. I find music distracting when I’m actually writing.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

I can’t choose between my fic this year, I wrote them all at different points in the year and love certain elements in all of them. I love Rival because it’s funny and cute and achy; and I love Terms ‘verse because it’s a love letter to my two years of kdrama/ movie watching and also because it made my babygirls laugh and cry and I think Juche turned out to be crisp and delicious, even if tonally very different from everything else I wrote this year...sowwie! I can’t choose between them!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Again, hard for me to choose and I’m sure my answer will change next week!

Single line, from Rival: “ Here’s how it works: When Heedo’s around, nothing is out of reach, not even happiness. “

Passage, from Juche:

“Last stop,” calls the driver from front. “Ahjussis, you getting out or what?”

The others had already disappeared, Pyung-ho catches a last glimpse of blue as the ahjumma got down.

“We’re taking the bus back, ahjussi,” Kim Jeong-do calls back.

The driver stares at them both, and then shrugs.

“Fifteen minute break,” he says, “You can sit here or get out.”

“Do you want to-”

“No.”

“We’re fine here, ahjussi, thanks.”

The driver grunts, and gets off, leaving the door open.

A cold draught of air fills the bus.

Kim Jeong-do opens the window, asking, “Smoke?”

“Those can kill you,” Pyung-ho says, “You know that right?”

“Not fast enough,” says Jeong-do, and Pyung-ho can’t help the chortle that escapes him.

Jeong-do smiles too, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It makes him look handsome.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

To have been able to write at all, in the midst of a bad mental health year has been a surprise and a blessing. And this isn’t a new feature- it happens all the time- but I’m somehow also always shocked by how stories take a life of their own and go where they will, just dragging you along. It’s the best thing, really.

#ao3 wrapped #thanks 'anon'

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