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pandoraslxna · 11 months

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human!reader taking nude and explicit photographs of herself to give to the colonel 😩

Sweet like cherry – Chapter 1

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, (mutual) masturbation (lots of it), voyeurism, degradation kink, body worship, misogyny / bullying if you squint, obsession, corruption kink, size & age difference

Notes: apologies for the header photo, i promise there aren’t any physical descriptions of the reader in my fics (such as skin color, hair, etc).

Cherry. A symbol of both, purity and innocence.

Technology had never been Quaritch’s forte. It wasn't even his strongest branch of knowledge; a strange piece of information that always came as a surprise to anyone who knew him, even to himself. He was usually too proud to admit this flaw of his to others. But he excelled in other things instead. Leading, for example. Leading troupes, soldiers, recoms. Keeping them safe.

On a typical day, the head of security ensures that security measures are properly implemented, educates and trains soldiers and develops security processes to reduce risk and limit liability for the RDA. Oh, and guns. Yeah, guns he knew how to handle.

And this was something that he took great pride in.

Miles knew that some people use technology to create all kinds of art, as useless as that may seem to him. They draw, they create, they write, whatever, you name it. Sometimes, people use technology to document things. They videotape or photograph stuff. All that unnecessary shit that he pushes into Wainfleets area of responsibility, because hell, he couldn’t even open a stupid document on one of those data pads everyone seemed to carry around these days.

Which is why this tiny, square piece of paper, right there on the floor of his living quarters, spiked his interest so much.

A polaroid.

Quaritch knew polaroids. He knew how to use a polaroid camera too, surprisingly. Learned it back on earth when he was young, when technology was as simple as pressing a button which resolved an instant result. A photo, in that case. They often came out looking a little blurry or foggy, he admits that was probably due to the outdated technology. Nothing compared to the quality that cameras could capture today. But that’s what gave them their charm, right?

He doesn’t remember them being this small, though, but that’s probably because the last time he held one of these was when he was a kid. And when he wasn’t a little over nine feet tall and blue.

Faintly, Quaritch wonders how it even ended up here. He wasn’t really the type to carry memories with him, photographs of all things. And a polaroid? Who even brings a polaroid camera all the way from earth to pandora? As far as he could remember his first time coming to this hell hole, the list of belongings he was allowed to carry with him was fairly short, limited to the necessities only.

Instead of breaking his head over an answer to where it may came from, the Colonel chose to continue observing this strange… let’s call it gift, his eyes narrowing and squinting throughout his thorough investigation.

But when he finally turns the polaroid, his eyes widen in surprise.

There‘s nothing blurry or messy or foggy about the picture, even under the dim light of the lamp that lit his dark bedroom. It was crystal clear.

Your tattoo is the first thing Miles sees of you. Thin, red lines adorn the flawless skin right on your hip, resulting in a cherry as a whole. Cherries. Miles loved them. Small, soft round, almost heart shaped and of bright red color. And so, so sweet.

He’s never been a big fan of lingerie, truth be told, but the way those panties matched the color of your tattoo, Quaritch couldn’t deny that this was one hell of a sight. You wore a set of thigh-high stockings, same color of course, to make the match perfect.

Too bad the photo’s frame cuts off right where your head would be, so he could only wonder if whoever the woman on this picture was, she was wearing the same color of lipstick too.

A nice little gift, he thought, not thinking much of it as he laid the polaroid into his nightstand drawer.

It doesn’t take more than a couple of days for him to find a new set of polaroids, slipped under the crack of his door while he was on a mission. With a huff, Miles set his gear down to pick them up from the floor. He might not have realized back then, but he was actually pleased to find not just one, but three polaroids this time.

Surprisingly, there was something written on them this time. A fine line of red ink, reminds him of your tattoo. Handwritten in cursive, with a small heart at the end of the sentence, like a love letter directed to him, stood, "to Colonel Miles Quaritch."

As if someone was trying to make it clear that those were meant for him. That the last time wasn’t just an accident or made by a perverted voyeur that gets off from sliding naughty little photos of herself under random peoples doors. No, they were made entirely for him.

If the first one he received was already a sight to see, the ones he was holding in his hands right now were straight up mouth watering.

Quaritch couldn’t help it.

He was still a man after all and it’s been one hell of a long time since he had last touched a woman. A life time, you could say. So even though his own bodies reaction to stirring alive at the sight of your photos took him by surprise, it wasn’t actually that surprising after all. Because how could he not grow hard at the sight of that faceless woman with the cherry tattoo, sprawled out on her bed, messy satin sheets underneath her picture perfect body, legs spread wide and angled so he could get a good view of her glistening folds.

The first polaroid he had received was nothing more than a little tease, meant to get him intrigued, maybe even rile him up and make him want to longe for more. But these, these photos were straight up pornographic.

The second one is enough to make Miles sit down on his bed and rearrange his pants, as they had suddenly grown suffocatingly tight around his crotch. In that one, you were bend over what looked like the edge of your bed, spine arched just the way he liked and with your thighs spread to make room for your hand that had two delicate fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you.

"Fuck…", Miles chuckled lowly. What a pretty pussy, he thought, as he started to palm his cock through his cargos.

He held the polaroid just a little closer to his face to catch all the details. How your walls seemed to clamp down on your fingers, spread wide to swallow them whole. God, what he would give to hold your legs open and watch your tight pussy struggle to take him down to the base.

He groaned at the thought, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his hard cock. Throbbing painfully in his palm, he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily as his eyes scanned over the polaroid like he was studying a fine piece of art.

Miles imagined how your voice would sound like. How cries would tumble from your lips, his name like a mantra as he fucked you until your entire body would tremble, unable to bear how good he was making you feel. The loose fist he’d made around his cock grew tighter, as his steady pace became a touch less steady, his body growing desperate for more friction than his lazy drag had allowed.

Miles stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles.

His eyes traveled over to the next photo, the same lithe body, biting his lower lip as his gaze settled on the way you were squeezing your soft breasts together for the shot, fingers teasing your perky nipples. A sight that would only be better if there was a cock, his cock, in between them.

While the pre-cum that leaked from his tip did serve to smooth the dry tug, it wasn’t enough to keep up with his pace, so he spat into his hand, the glide easier now, and the filthy sounds made his head spin. He could almost feel your pussy clamping down, tight and hot, around him. If he closed his eyes, it was like you were really here.

But Quaritch rather kept them open, half lidded at least, just to keep staring at those filthy little pictures, like a pathetic sailor looking at pinup posters taped on his bunk bed.

Soon, he was actually fucking into his hand, faster now, as he imagined exactly how you would take him. Perhaps you’d look best, sitting prettily on his lap. Riding him, rolling your soft hips while he gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, lifting you up only to slam you down on his cock. Wrenching cries from those spit-glossed lips, skin shiny with sweat and a lustful gaze through thick lashes.

Spurting his thick, warm cum into his fist definitely didn’t feel as good as pumping you full with it would, he determined that day.

Cherry, Miles named the mysterious woman of his late fantasies. Because no matter the pose, you always managed to leave your face out of your photos. Instead, you sneaked your fruity little tattoo on every single one of your shots. Like a trademark, as if he could somehow recognize you like this.

Ever since then, the days Miles received cherry's little gifts had piled up quite a bit. So much so, that the Colonel couldn’t even deny anymore, that he even grew a tad excited about coming back home from his missions just to find a new set of naughty little polaroids on the floor right behind the door.

And even when he wasn’t specifically looking at your photos, he sometimes caught himself thinking about you. With so much shit going on in his life, it was nice to have a little something to let his mind drift off to.

His sweet little cherry, for example.

Miles washes himself mechanically. Shampoo, rinse. Conditioner, soap, lathered across his blue skin. Sliding over his board chest, balancing on the cliffs of his hips, dripping down to where his cock hangs hot and heavy, tingling under the pelting water as if they were an angel's kisses. Pecking, spreading on his skin. Drowning him in drowsy heat as he slips rough fingers through his short hair.

He washes away all the grime, sweat and dirt that had clung to his body after spending most of his day in the sultry heat of pandoras jungle. Looking down at his palms, as he rinses them under the spray of hot water, he thinks about your latest polaroid, from two days ago. It was a shot of you, standing in the shower, too.

The camera was set somewhere behind you. Both of your hands against the tiled walls, you stood entirely on your tip toes, back arched and chest pushed against the wall to give him a good view of your backside. You really had a delicious looking, peachy butt. Especially delicious, if said butt was covered in soap.

Placing a hand against the wall to steady himself, Miles other hand traveled down over his toned stomach, until he reached his cock, that was now standing proud and tall, his tip an angry color of purple, as pre-cum already oozed from its slit.

There used to be times when it was a lot harder to rile him up like that, he thought with a scoff. You made him feel like he was a teenager once again. Back in his old room, on his parents farm, where he had just discovered his old man's playboy magazine. When his body was pumped full and overflowing of hormones and testosterone that desperately searched for a way out. Or when he was in college, bending over every pretty girl that willingly got into his old mustang and spread her legs for him in the backseat.

Miles thought he’d grown up since then. That he had better impulse control now. Had his fair share of women so that things like seeing one naked wouldn’t immediately get him this hard. Hell, he was a completely different man now, he has responsibilities, a team to lead, a whole damn planet to colonize.

But as he furiously pumped his cock, lubed with pre-cum and body wash, he thought that maybe he was just acting like some horny teenager because it’s been an awful while since he had last buried his cock into a wet little hole. Or maybe it’s something about those damn Na‘vi and their fucked up dna that was used to clone him. Maybe they’re so hormone driven and that’s why he has those borderline animalistic urges to fuck that faceless woman into the mattress of his bed, any bed.

Or maybe it’s just because of you. Because cherry looks just so perfectly edible, so bite sized and delicious. A pretty little thing made for him. Needy enough to send him those downright pornographic polaroids, because you were thinking about him, thinking about him stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy that you could taste him on your tongue.

Miles exhaled a shaky breath, hips stuttering to fuck into his fist at a faster pace as he continued to recreate the last photo he had seen of you in front of his minds eye.

The second polaroid of your previous set showed you in a squatting position, legs spread wide, while the water of the shower was running down over your curves, over your tattoo and pubic bone to dribble onto the white-tiled bathroom floor. Quaritch swallowed thickly, tongue lapping over his pointy canine as he imagined to dive head first between your thighs to get a good taste of you. Fuck, he bets you would taste so damn delicious, truly living up to your little nickname.

In this shot, your own hand was wrapped around your throat, almost as if you were taunting him.

I wish that was your hand instead.

"Jesus, cherry", Miles groaned in a hushed whisper, "Bet you’d love my hand around your throat. Filthy little slut."

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he imagined you in this exact position, squatting in front of him in the shower, your hands on his thighs as he fucked your throat, until your voice was raw and hoarse.

Unfortunately, in this moment there was no one to swallow his thick load of cum, but the tiled wall of his shower and the drain after the water had washed it down.

In his youth, and even sometimes in his years as an adult, the morning after was often filled with an emotion that his current self didn’t even possess anymore. Shame, sometimes even guilt. He took what he desired, made a pretty girl see stars and then ditched before the first ray of sun could even shine through the ugly smog that was once a white cloud in the sky –before the humans fucked up.

But ever since his sweet Cherry had bought him her little gifts and once in a while gave Quaritch a way to release all of his pent of frustration, he was in a surprisingly good mood. Not that good, of course, because Quaritch wouldn’t be Quaritch if he was running around like a brainless bimbo full of sunshine and butterflies. But good enough that he didn’t immediately growled something along the lines of "watch where the fuck you’re going" or something like that, when a small body bumped into him in the hallway.

Yesterday nights shower activities left him in a good enough mood, that all he did was scrunch his nose and scoff at the pathetic sight in front of him.

White lab coat, black pencil skirt, blouse and clipboard in a tight death grip, clasped over her chest like she thought he would snatch it from her, stood one of those scientists that were running around all over bridgehead like little ants.

Looking all the way down at you, Miles realized that you must’ve dropped a few of your books and other paperwork when you accidentally ran into him, as they were scattered across the floor all around you.

There was a long moment of painful silence, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Eyes, that were filled with something that looked like panic to him, like a deer caught in headlights and you blushed, blushed so much that your whole face turned red. Oh god, Quaritch thinks to himself, she’s one of those kind of lab coats. Those nerds that never see the sunlight because they’re always cramped into their little labs, studying whatever fucking plants and stuff they could get their hands on, like it’s their only purpose in life. One of those nerds that he made fun of when he was still in college, virgins he’d call them, because that’s what they were. So smart, yet too stupid to socialize and actually get their hands on another human.

You, too, looked like a virgin to him. Albeit a little too pretty to be compared to the other scientist freaks he had crossed ways with so far. Less like a sun starved vampire, with dark circles under their eyes and greasy hair that made him wonder if they even had showers down at the labs. No, you looked more like those kind of girls you’d see in those weird roleplay porn movies, dressed down to make them look nerdier, as if they were someone completely different outside of work, wearing those fake glasses that weren’t actually needed for anything other than the sheer purpose of covering them in cu—

"Oh god, I’m s-so sorry, Sir!" You finally snatched out of your trance when he crooked a brow at you, hastily hurrying to fall to your knees and collect the papers that were littered across the floor like confetti.

With an amused huff, Miles was about to turn on his heels and continue his way to meet General Ardmore at the corporate hq, when his gaze flicks to a tiny, square piece of paper on the floor. The sheer horror on your face, when he crouched down to pick it up, was actually quiet an amusing sight to him.

"Well, well. Look what we have here." Quaritch chuckles as he flips the paper over, that in fact turned out to be a polaroid, just as he assumed. It reveals the picture perfect shot of a body, with a small tattoo he’s grown very familiar with.

"If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"

#colonel miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #avatar quaritch #atwow quaritch #recom quaritch #quaritch x reader #james cameron avatar #Avatar #Avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #recom miles quaritch

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hotvintagepoll · 3 months

Text

Propaganda

Ronald Colman (Arrowsmith, Random Harvest, Prisoner of Zenda)—"God! Ronnie Colman! Wasn't he marvelous? He had the greatest movie technique I've ever known in my life!" -Vincent Price

James Dean (Rebel Without A Cause, East of Eden)—can i just say that while james dean was horrendously hot, he also had a i-want-to-pick-him-up-and-carry-him-around-in-my-pocket-slash-hoodie-and-feed-him-treats kind of vibe to him? maybe it was because he was only 5'7, or maybe it was because (to me, at least) he constantly looked like a sopping wet poor little meow meow, or maybe it's because his eyebrows looked like they were too big for him. whatever it was, i'm beginning to understand why people still have posters of him in their rooms.

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

James Dean propaganda:

Ronald Colman propaganda:

No one, not even Douglas Fairbanks, could match Ronald Colman's screen close-ups. They were marvellous because he had a beautiful face, and because he had a deep but gentle masculinity: the ideal of the dark Englishman. — Laurence Olivier

Ronnie became not just an actor for me, but a way of life. — Vincent Price

"I wanna give some propaganda for Ronald Colman! His face acting made him a star in the silent era but when the arrival of the talkie brought one megastar after another down to earth he was one of the only ones to become more popular due to his voice, and became the blueprint for the “mellifluous voiced Englishman” type that Laurence Olivier and James Mason would later become known for. And to prove it here he is reading Shakespeare"

"1920s heartthrob to 1930s matinée idol to 1940s silver fox Oscar winner to 1950s comedy radio star, this man could do it ALL. I feel he is unfairly neglected today despite his smile making it into P.G. Wodehouse novels and the knee-melting qualities of his voice making it into a Rodgers & Hammerstein musical. A women's college made him the winner in their hottest celebrity poll in 1942, and I am right there with them. He was by all accounts an absolutely lovely person, as well, but I recognize that this poll is about the hotness and I think that Ronald Colman deserves more recognition for being ridiculously handsome and doing heartbreaking face-acting and having weaponizable quantities of charm. Also he saved David Niven's life (according to the latter's memoir) by shooting a shark once. Very sexy of him."

He was a wonderful friend; steady, true, full of wisdom and humour. He was generous and completely unbitchy unlike so many actors. A great actor, the master of the understated playing, and one many people (including me) tried hard to copy. A glorious speaking voice, dirty great brown 'fan' eyes, a smile that lit up the whole of Beverly Hills, and a man who could give a lame dog or a struggling actor a lift with never a thought of self-congratulation. — David Niven

#james dean #ronald colman #round 3 #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old man

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soraviie · 1 year

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he's not your bias.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: requested and thank you for it! Please, like, reblog and leave a comment, you know the drill :]

NAMJOON: "It's Yoongi, isn't it?"

"Please, shut up."

"You shut up!...traitor."

Sighing, you adjusted your spine from where it was comfortably settled in the mattress and turn to the other side where Namjoon was grumbling, fingers tightly gripping the duvet and stare transfixed on a meaningless spot in the ceiling. His jaw was slowly working up into a full blown clench.

Cautiously, you reach to tug his hand into yours, rubbing slow circles on the back of his palm. Thankfully, he allows this and in due time the tension leaves his tightened body.

"Why do you think it's Yoongi?" you wonder aloud once more. When you accidentally let it slip that he wasn't the first one who caught your attention, he said he didn't care, tossing that remark over his shoulder but you should have known better.

"I don't know," he trails off, shrugging. "He's cool, quiet, determined, caring. A perfect guy, really."

"So are you."

You smile into the duskened air of the dim bedroom, hoping this will be the straw the breaks the back of his worried camel but then he turns up his nose, offended.

"Not enough to be your bias."

Your head slams against the pillow - exhausted.

"I'm with you not him. I admit there are a lot of admirable qualities he has but it's just that. To me he's an idol, but you're Kim Namjoon."

Tepidly, he takes the bait and glances at you from the corner of the eye, imperceptibly scooching closer, sheets rustling in the quiet.

"And is he so great? This Kim Namjoon?"

"The greatest," you press a soft kiss against his cheek. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep."

You place his hand firmly over your waist, relaxing once more and you hear him do the same thing as well. He did not need to know who you actually biased - that certain bandmate would get his ego stroked far too much than even a fan such as yourself could allow.

YOONGI: "I'm completely fine about meeting him! Now just pretend we don't know each other and be casual about it."

Yoongi draws a deep inhale, refusing to let your hand go.

"There's only two of us here," he remarks, pointedly glimpsing around his studio. The air was laced with the stench of paint whilst the canvas you both worked on dried away in the dark corner.

"So? I could be a new staff member."

"You're sitting in my lap."

You glance down to where your thighs rested on top of his.

"Perhaps you're a pervert," you state off-handedly. This offends him and rolling his eyes, Yoongi unceremoniously shoves you onto the floor. It was exactly in this moment when you fought to preserve your balance, the door cracks open and to your great mortification Jimin comes in.

The easy smile on his lips drops faster than your gut can and with gaze hastily flickering between you and Yoongi, he steps cautiously forth.

"Oh, hello," he greets, trying to mask the awkwardness streaming out of his very pores. "I don't think I've seen you around...?"

"Yes, I'm just..." you floundered, quickly growing breathless in the presence of someone shaped like a sheer perfection. The pixels truly did not do him justice.

"Your biggest fan," Yoongi concluded dryly from his seat. "So if you could be so kind and sign a scarf or something, I'd be grateful. This one is slobbering up all my studio."

You could only turn around with mouth wide open despite no sound falling out of it. Innocently, Yoongi meets your gaze, daring to be so aggravating and proceeding to flutter his unfairly pretty eyelashes.

"Oh," Jimin laughs brightly in the background. "I don't mind signing something..."

Whilst the blood in your head boils to the degree, a straying fear arises of it simply pOpPing off your head, Jimin so graciously loops his signature on the back of a ripped note containing your and Yoongi's grocery list. Once he finishes, he lifts his head, gives an absolutely paralyzing smile and...

...winks.

WINKS!

"Ehhhhheheheheh, thankyou."

You think that somewhere in the back of Yoongi's throat there rises a sentence of "that's just embarrassing" but as you whip around, murder in the eyes, he chooses to ultimately stay diplomatically silent.

"I just remembered, there's a thing I need to do," Jimin excuses himself, bowing politely and you try to do the same but it comes out as a bit too deep. More like you're ready to accidentally worship him. As he leaves, lingering for a second too long in the doorway, his gaze jumps curiously between you and Yoongi.

"Interesting," is all he says to himself before leaving altogether.

Deep silence veils the room, interrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

"We're breaking up," numbly, you announce.

"No, we're not," smugly, Yoongi remarks over the shoulder.

JIN: "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Jin speaks over the rim of his steaming cup, overtly self-satisfied. "With a face such as this and my perfect personality to boot, you really stood no chance."

Personally, you have had a very, very long day. The kind of which leaves your brain leaking from the side of the ear and the soul from the bottom of the waterline, so hearing that coming out of his mouth, accompanied with a smug expression that just begged to be humbled, you slammed him down with no hesitation.

"I was talking about Jungkook. Jungkook is my bias."

The cup in between the saucer and his lips freezes halfway and you can even vaguely hear an error noise drawn from the depths of his perplexing mind.

"The sexy brunette, hitting all the notes with a grace of an angel..." he clarifies, closing his eyes. Does he think - see no evil, hear no evil?

"Is Jeon Jungkook. 190811 concert to be specifically."

The error noise grows louder.

"He was very sexy in that one. Absolutely mesmerizing. My core memory actually."

Calmly, Jin places the cup back onto the saucer, daintily pushing back a strand of unkempt hair.

"I see," he concludes and after a prolonged moment of stretching inaction during which you almost grow to believe he has entirely turned into a statue, Jin states with nothing short of cornucopia of attitude.

"Well, I raised him so by any good business model, 25% of affection belongs to me anyhow."

"Oh, only 25%?" you grumble. "How gracious of you."

"You're right," he leans his head to the side as though genuinely thinking it over. "Inflation. Make it 45%."

And to your surprise no fuss was made. He went to sleep and kicked you twice in his sleep - as per the standard rate. A year went by and the fact was never brought up, be it in passing or even when conversation was on the topic, he merely sat smiling politely in the sidelines. You assumed that the piece of this knowledge was so traumatic, he suppressed the memory of it altogether.

"Hey, Jin," you called out, rifling through the bedsheets. "Have you seen my phone?"

Over the sounds of his infuriated screams about losing yet another game, there comes a hasty "no, sorry".

"Okay, can I use your phone to call myself?"

"Su-AH YOU GODDAMN TOE BRAINED ASSHOLE-re, honey!"

The password on his phone - your birth year, not exactly hacker worthy. You hover over the contacts list not finding in the appropriate section. Babe? Nothing. Honey? Nothing. Annoyance? Not even that. You trail purposelessly throughout the small splattering of contacts - an outcome of being forced to change numbers every - accidentally stumbling on a particularly suspicious name.

"Traitor 💔"

"Drama queen," you mutter fondly, deciding to let him and the name be.

HOSEOK: "He's a sweetheart," Hoseok whispers in the vicinity of his elbow where you were using him as an impenetrable shield. "He's literally going to be happy to learn you biased him."

"Look at his face! He thinks I'm annoying!"

"That's just how his face looks, silly. As Tae-biased you must know that."

"But he's scary," you whimper. "I adore him as a bias but I also want to run away. I do not want to be perceived."

You shrink smaller the second those soulful, weary eyes glide over to where Hoseok was so suspiciously angled. You squeak and hide even further behind Hoseok's back, praying Taehyung doesn't come over.

"Get me out of here, please," you mutter and with a quick wave, Hoseok leads you out of the building. There, in the chilly air of the oncoming night, the awkwardness and, truthfully, no small amount of panic evaporates into the black sky. For a while, both of you are simply content in holding hands and watching them swing back and forth.

"Ugh, I'm so lame," you whine.

"No, you're not. It's natural to be shy around people you idolize," he scolds you gently. "You don't think I'm soaring on the ninth wave of confidence when meeting my stars?"

"Well, you're cool yourself so there's no reason why you shouldn't," you scoff.

"And you're cool as well."

There's that tone again - it's useless to argue. Hoseok was not here to entertain your insecurities, he made sure of that from the very start. You smile to yourself, gazing out across the slowly running river. Walks like these were precious. Treasured even as they were so rare.

"You're not upset by it, right?" you clarify cautiously. Partially knowing that of course such a minuscule thing as this would not upset him but...it just didn't hurt to make sure.

"No," he chuckled airily, before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Actually I'm kind of glad about it."

"Glad?"

"Well, it'd be difficult to date you if you kept running away from embarrassment."

You chuckled, facing the ground as the streets and the river slowly molded themselves into a nondescript background.

JIMIN: "So...Namjoon told me you hung out?"

Easy. Casual. Even somewhat in passing. But you know him better than that and the second your sixth sense catches onto the lingering shadow in the background of his chords, you lift your head from the magazine and stray to where he was leaning against the countertop.

"I don't like him like that. Please, do not misunderstand."

"I'm just asking," Jimin defends, more so out of instinct. The very best and simultaneously the worst thing about the relationship you'd both cradled like a gentle flame is that by now you could read each other's mind. Despite not being there with him in person you know of the pang in his heart he'd felt when seeing a picture of you trailing next to Namjoon as you both were immersed in a conversation about art, one that'd surely make him bored quite easily. And despite Jimin not literally finding himself dug deep into your brain, he knows you worry, he knows you suspect, knows you're working overtime into scheming all possible future scenarios.

"Stop overthinking," he chides but there's no malice behind it and simply just as that the tension stretches and unwinds until there's only the soft ambient noise of life swirling all around.

"Does he know? You go rabid over him?"

Fully offended, you point the spoonful of yoghurt in his direction, a fat glob of peach splattering clumsily onto the tiles.

"I do not! Go rabid over him!"

Before you get the chance to reach for the paper towel, Jimin has already snatched a ply, wiped up the peach yoghurt and discarded it into the trash.

"Thank you. But I do not go rabid over him!"

Jimin pointedly stares at the your keychain where not one, not two but three Koya's hung limply around the metal circles.

"Of course, absolutely sane."

"Do not patronize me, Park," you glare at him but once geared to amuse himself in your miffed state, he shows no sign of stopping.

"You are so chill about it. Not like you spent hours creating TikTok edits of his dimples."

"You swore to take that to the grave," you growled underneath the nose, your clenched fist indicating you were extremely close to choking him. Which Jimin didn't exactly mind. In fact, such was his goal.

"Oh, make me take it there," he winked.

TAEHYUNG: "I'm not going to share Hobi with you."

"I'm your partner!"

"And? You're not getting Hoseok privileges."

You pouted the rest of the day away, grumbling about the unfairness of the whole situation. But secretly you felt your heart draw a heavy sigh of relief. It'd been so hard to get together with Taehyung that unwillingly it felt that even the smallest of things got inflated to magnitude you feared could drown you whole. But it was fine. If anything he seemed overjoyed in hearing that it was Hoseok who'd caught your attention first and kept a rather brutal chokehold over the course of these few years. Yes, it was fine. However, should Taehyung ever reveal you had drooled on yourself while watching "MORE", you would kill him and then yourself. A promise you'd made loud and clear to which he swore to obey.

And it wasn't like meeting Hoseok was something so necessary for you to live, feeling rather content watching him from the sidelines. In between life, Yeontan, Taehyung and all the secrecy that one had to accept came with him, your life was...full. So when one of these factors suddenly became absent, you grew suspicious.

Why did he sneak away before you woke up and came home when you were asleep? He couldn't be mad at you, could he? You think back, absent-mindedly tapping at the phone screen. "Daydream" blasts into your ears all too loudly and flinching you yank them away much to Tannie's disappointment. As of late, he appeared to be even more judgmental. You reckon the little rascal never grew to be quite okay with you taking so much of his dad's attention. But to be fair his dad's attention was on whatever third party that kept him away the entire day.

The slowly running anxiety prodded your eyes wide open so it's not like you planned to stay awake for when unmistakably Taehyung shut the front doors cautiously behind him. No, there was nothing for him to be angry about. He hadn't been home often enough for it to happen. As such, guided by latent curiosity, you pretended to be wholly asleep, cracking the barest sliver of one eye open to observe him through the dark.

Stumbling ungainly through the minefield that was your bedroom, it was no surprise he stubbed a toe against the dresser and choking on a series of half-withheld curses, collapsed onto the duvet.

"Good evening," you greet him smoothly. "Fun night?"

He yelps from the shock whilst you turn on the lights. Though you find him not with guilt gleaming in the eye or lipstick on the collar but rather brandishing two dozen of balloons and a photo album.

A photo album of carefully and might you say, artistically gathered collection of photocards, signed at the end by Hoseok himself.

JUNGKOOK: His eyes never left your figure, analyzing each and every interaction with a hawk-like precision.

Jimin? No, you were far too unperturbed talking to him. Jin? No, he'd been in your home far too many times drunk of his ass. Frankly, after he'd slathered your favourite plushie in the contents of his stomach, Jungkook doubted you could hold any sense of idealization towards the man, regardless if he was your initial bias or not.

Jungkook hummed to himself. Decisions, decisions. All of them wrong. His investigation was fruitless for so long Jungkook had all but abandoned it, resigning himself to sitting quietly by the stewing pot when at last something in you changes. Yoongi casually recommends a dish as he'd taken notice of your befuddled stare upon the cornucopia of the dinner table and you lover your gaze, bidding a very quiet, meek "thank you". As a year old boyfriend of yours, Jungkook could definitively say - you were not meek.

Ah, so it was Yoongi.

Why did he want to know so bad? He himself did not even know. Perhaps because you hid it away and the spitefulness of your action flared his own competitive nature. Or perhaps it was nothing at all.

Laying down in the sparse room of the lakeside guest house, he listened to you shower, weighing should he bring the matter . You loved him, not Yoongi. After all you were his partner, but...

No "but's", he scolds himself, turning to lay on the other side. You pad softly to the bed and with a drawn out sigh of utter content jump down next to him.

"Why do you keep sleeping with your hair wet?" Jungkokk nags, twirling a strand between the fingers. "It's bad for you health."

"I sleep better that way."

He gives a non-committal hum, knowing so much already. He briefly opens his mouth as though the words were already there - in the papillae of his tongue but then he closes it shut once more, leaving things unspoken

It doesn't much matter, he reckons happily, while you were still by his side, he would not doubt a thing.

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slytherizz · 3 months

Text

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way.

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features.

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy.

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic.

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her.

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter.

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose.

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions.

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour.

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles.

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl.

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in.

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would.

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas.

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe."

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste.

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry.

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said.

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best.

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men."

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm.

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her.

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you."

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered.

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles; an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly.

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited.

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette.

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past.

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap.

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him.

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant.

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day.

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work.

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of.

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest.

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith.

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage."

Liar.

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life."

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze.

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips.

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips.

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse.

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own.

Not that anyone witch or woman had since.

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another.

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping.

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise.

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp.

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious.

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor.

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air.

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in.

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon.

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him.

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large.

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did.

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge.

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth.

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread.

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her.

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment.

Can't let it be her.

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought.

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back.

It's all the whiskey.

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away.

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue.

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust.

There she was.

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own.

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest.

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins.

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke.

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock.

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun."

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure.

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones.

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner.

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved.

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood.

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back.

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense.

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet.

Beauty. Terror.

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity.

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes.

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair.

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of.

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his.

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands.

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum.

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own.

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut.

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound.

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him.

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him.

#Please mind the tags #dark fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic

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appleblueberry-pie · 3 months

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Hello, First timer here. May I please request for Yandere Nanami Kento wherein their darling finds their stalker wall ( a wall filled with their pictures) after being invited into his apartment and proceeds to runaway from him

Great idea. this will be my dessert. And speaking of dessert........

The sun began to disappear on the horizon. It had a calming dark orange color rather than the blinding white light it usually had. Parts of the sky that took off with the sun brought a yellow hue that eventually faded into a dark blue above. The clouds were purple and pink, which gave the impression that this was probably the most beautiful sunset in Japan this year. Yet, Kento wouldn't dare take his eyes off of your face. You were ten times more beautiful than any sunset he's ever laid his eyes on. Everything from your reflective eyes to your beautiful lips was something he could never get off of his mind. He needed you to be his forever.

He managed to persuade you into having a few dates with him. You and him have been work partners for a few years at the same company, and he's "known" you for even longer than that. He knew you didn't really like your job and only stayed for the amazing pay. He also knew that he was your type. Organized. Neat. Kept to himself and never really bothered to talk with others. He intrigued you and you wanted to know more about him. It was less of convincing, and more of you asking him out, if anything. More of a reason for you to stick around. He wasn't complaining.

And so you two were almost halfway through the first date. "Surprise me," you said. So he gave you some sort of dress code that would be nice for the place he'd take you to and he brought you to a (pretty expensive, in your opinion) new restaurant that opened in Tokyo. You had a great time ordering to your hearts content, like he told you to do. And you're surprised that he could even afford a place like this. It made you wonder what kind of pay gap you two had.

You spoke the most out of the both of you, even with shoving all of the food you ate into your mouth. He told you to be careful, of course, but couldn't help but let out little chuckles from your adorable behavior. You told him about your position and what you to at work(which he already knew about), told him about the stray cats you feed every night because they kept begging you so sweetly for more deli cuts from your fridge(he knew that too), and you told him about how much you enjoy his company.

"I don't know." You said, sipping your red wine while maintaining eye contact with him. "It's something really nice about you." You give him a simple smile, your beautiful nails tapping against the polish wooden dinner table. He felt his cock twitch in his pants and tried to fight back the heat that began to reach his face and ears from your sudden complete attention on him.

"You're so sweet and caring.........Very attentive and responsible. I like that in a man." You sat back in your seat, eating smaller bites off of your plate now. "You know, I can't find men like you anymore. Like, a lot of them always seem to have a lot of the qualities I want. Money, great hygiene, great taste in places they take me to, but..." You shook your head. "There's always that one thing that just....doesn't do it for me, you know?" Kento nods, understanding what you meant. He prayed that there wasn't anything you didn't like about him. Because he knows how picky you can get. And he'll play dollhouse with you a million times before you find out about how he managed to be with you in this moment.

"I used to give them a chance. That's what a lot of older women would tell me. Give them a chance, it's just one flaw, nenenene, whatever. But then I see the men that they stay with and it's.......I don't want to insult their taste, but. No. And every time I gave someone a chance, they revealed so many other things that I didn't like about them. The guy before you was just like you. So nice to me, had money, was neat and clean. He was great." You flip your hand around.

Kento internally monologues to himself, 'nice isn't enough'.

"But he was a fucking misogynist. I almost got slapped probably," Kento's eyebrows shoots up. "What?? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" You shake your head. "Nononono, I was exaggerating, I shouldn't have. Sorry."

"No, it's okay, you don't need to apologize. I just want to make sure nothing bad happened. Who was this guy?" You roll your eyes. "Some CEO at like, um........McDonald's. I'm surprised he wasn't fat with all of the leftovers he always brought back with him." You insult him and scoff. Kento makes a hard mental note to do some deep research on all current and former CEO's of McDonald's establishments. And also to get into your phone's database.

"And him being nice wasn't enough at all." See? "And after all of the 'nice guys' I dated, and all of the weird misogynists-in-hiding i've spoken to, I have a very...very good feeling," You grab his cold hands with your very warm ones, "That you are so much more than every sleaze I gave crumbs to."

"......so I am receiving 'crumbs'?" You smile and let go of his hands. He dearly misses the warmth you provided to him. "The first date is always crumbs. It's just a matter if I believe that you deserve more than just that." You silently watch Kento pay for the bill before packing your stuff. Before you can get out of your seat, Kento almost(fully) rushes out of his to help you back up. You sweetly thank him, putting your jacket on(with his help again) and let out an exhale as you both step outside of the restaurant onto the streets.

It takes a few anxious seconds of silence for Kento to speak up. "Is it alright if we make some dessert at my place? I have all of the ingredients to make an apple pie, I didn't want to waste your time by just sitting on the couch with you. But if you want to call it a night, I can walk you back home and we can discuss our next date on the way back?"

When you turn and smile at him, the setting sun accents your face in every way possible. Kento prays to god that this moment in time isn't a dream. Without realizing, his face relaxes, brown eyes giving you that look as if you were his nonexistent teenage dream that he's meeting for the first time. It feels so natural when you slip your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together.

"No. I realize I want to do this with you. You're special. I hope you realize that by now." Kento can only stay silent while his heart nearly beats out of his chest for the entire way back to his place. You didn't mind the silence, humming and pointing at flowers or birds that caught your attention for a few seconds.

Kento goes over every door he locked and every little thing he hid around his house in case you agreed to be with him at his place. But now that you two were in front of his door, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. So, he calmly opens his front door, lets you in first with a smile, before closing it behind him. He acts as if nothing is suspicious as you both take off your shoes and outside jackets, putting them in their respective places.

Kento excuses himself to open his sliding door in the back for ventilation, only to really check all doors for their locks, peek into certain rooms he purposefully left unlocked. "Hey, Kento?" You called from the kitchen. "Yes? Is there anything you need?" He calls back, making his way to the sliding door. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom?"

"My home is your home. The bathroom is down the hall by the staircase." And it's as he opens the sliding doors that he tenses realizes you'd possibly open one of two doors at the end of the hallway. The one leading into his humongous shrine entirely dedicated to you, or the actual bathroom.

"Y/n, wait." Kento does a 180 turn and power walks back to the front of his home, about to turn left before nearly bumping into you. You pass him with the same speed he had almost, putting on your shoes you left by the door. His heart drops into his stomach when he turns and sees the door to his shrine left wide open. "Y/n-" You had already left out the door by the time he turns back to face you.

Kento thinks back to seven months ago when he first started stalking you. How long it took for him to get his first clear picture of your face in a crowd full of people. How long it took for him to build his body shape into the one you desired. How long it took for him to find a place in Shinjuku to be closer to you. To be in the same work company as you. And, fuck, did it take forever for him to get you to notice him. And now here you are. Running out of his apartment in fear of him. All of the love and desire he poured into you, into your beautiful shrine entirely dedicated to you. He was completely devoted to you. And you're running. How fucking stupid it was for him to believe he could have it easy.

His face forms into one of anger as you step out into the cold once more, as if you forgot every single good fucking thing he had brought onto you. You didn't even realize how close he got until you felt his iron-tight grip clamp onto your shoulder and yank you back into his apartment. You land onto the floor harshly and flinch when he slams the door shut, locking it tight.

You never realized how much bigger and stronger Nanami was compared to you until now. You were just a little mouse and he was like a tiger. "I can't let you go." He says. His heart feels as if it's hanging on a few strings in his chest. His throat begins to close out of stress and sadness. He didn't want to do this to you. He got so so so close....but you tried to ruin everything you two had build together.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. He rubs his face and turns his back to you. "Fuck." You stay silent and still. You couldn't believe what you had gotten yourself into. You couldn't have known that the silent businessman that worked a floor above you was a weirdo creep who would fucking hold you hostage.

"It was my fault. I knew that that door was unlocked. And forgot to lock it. I never wanted you to see that." He turns back to face you now. You're still silent. Nanami desperately wants you to say something. He missed the sound of your voice in his ears. He missed feeling your touch. And knowing it won't ever be genuine like it felt today just made it feel like a huge part of him died inside. The silence killed him.

"........You have to stay here." "No." You immediately respond to that, shaking your head. You scramble to your feet and step up to him. "I'm not your hostage, Nanami." He turns his head in mental pain, hating how you aren't on first-name basis now. "No, you're not. But you won't ever want to be with me again. And the last thing I need is for someone else to find out about it."

"Of fucking course I wouldn't want to be around you anymore. Who knows what other shit you've seen me do. It's so sickening to think I was going to be close to my stalker. Oh, jesus christ." The vile words pour out of your mouth and Nanami's jaw tenses. Nanami looked like a child being told he couldn't see his mother ever again and it just made you more pissed off. You wanted to leave. The door was right there. But his desire to want you....and keep you...kept you from being free.

You step back in thought. What the fuck are you going to do? As if he could read your mind, Nanami looks up at you. He hasn't moved once from his spot. "I will take care of you."

You shake your head and purse your lips. "I wouldn't dare neglect you. You are my angel. You know that. Right?" He takes a step closer. "We can sleep in the same bed once we get there...but until then, I can give you my bedroom."

His dining room and kitchen are big. With the surrounding space, you feel like you could get around him somehow. So you shed the jacket, letting it drop to the floor. "......" He stares at it before looking back up at you. "And then...I will also bathe you, and allow you to use the hygiene products I know you use." You scowl and cross your arms.

"I know you're trying to run." Nanami walks up to you as calmly as possible. But he moved where you moved. Which is how you ended up on the floor straddled when you tried shoving past him. "Please don't make me do this." He begs. You shout profanities at him, which eventually water down to you just sobbing, tears rushing down your face as you gasped for air. "Please, just let me go!" Nanami keeps your hands together with one hand, and wipes your face of your tears with the other. Your face was hot as you tried to avoid his cold touch.

Nanami shakily sighs. He really didn't want to say no to you. But you couldn't just leave. So for the first time ever, he ignored you. He ignored your squeals of fear as he hoists you off of the ground and brings you into the guest bedroom, locking the door from the outside. He ignores the loud bangs on the door as he cleans up the small mess left behind, putting away the prepped ingredients for the apple pie for another time. And he ignores that small selfish feeling of happiness bloom in his chest at his once in a lifetime chance to finally have something go right in his life. No matter how dark and twisted the path was to get to this point.

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honeymvnt · 4 months

Text

White Mustang [18+]

Barry Seal !femxreader¡

Words count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT, that’s all

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ ──────────── 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

You hated this city. You hated this place with all of yourself but you couldn't get rid of it, nor you could escape from it.

Being a girl in the late seventies wasn't easy anyway and when everything around you seemed to be rotting into the past, dwelling against what was making America so great after the Second World War you were trying to look forward for a better life, for a better something you've been reading about in books, seeing on television or in the magazines.

Your parents weren't helping with the whole situation either: you hated staying by their rules especially your father's and the more you tried to gain your own confidence, the more they were bringing you down, suffocating your dreams, your little silly fantasies about a bright future towards the 80s, towards the inner cities, the ones that were growing compared to the ones where you were forced to live.

But the day you met him, everything changed.

You were trying your best not to make it sound like fairy tale, or an old Hollywood movie but he did make you feel that way and with time it turned out to be as unreal as you feared it would've.

Since that day he was all you were thinking about and you couldn't do anything else besides waiting for him again, waiting for him to come back to you has he had promised.

Barry, god of a man he was with that attitude, that mysterious aura that was surrounding him, that captured you so intensely that left such a sweet taste on your lips, like a liquor you couldn't get enough of.

When you met him in that shabby bar (which was also the best one, considered the others) you couldn't take your eyes off of him and for some reason he had seen you too even if he wasn't supposed to.

He had tried to avoid you, he had to. You were too ridiculously young and he was out of your league, not just because of the big evident age gap between the two of you but he did seriously look like someone who wanted to stay alone, unbothered. Yet he had found you particularly intriguing and just so different from the rest of the people in that quite small place.

The way you were moving, showing more elegance than arrogance for a girl as pretty as you, was certainly a quality he didn't forget to grasp when he looked back at you and you caught his lips between his white teeth. Compared to how your friends were acting he was intrigued by you only, almost fascinated by the fake innocence you were showing off, somehow, around him.

"Is the White Mustang yours? " You asked before you wrapped your lips around the colored straw hanging out from the tall glass of coke you were drinking from.

He looked directly into your eyes, breaking through you with his own green ones, slightly covered by some dark strands that were giving him no peace that night.

The corners of his lips raised a little as his body moved to face yours and one of his hands moved away from the cold glass of gin he had been sipping since when he walked in and put it on his thigh.

You tried your best to keep your eyes in place and avoid the half opened shirt, the leather shiny belt wrapped around his waist so jealously, his parted lips and you maintained your eyes in his.

"Yeah" he replied with a smile, tilting his head to catch the group of loud friends behind you.

"Are those your friends? Right there?"

You followed his gaze and looked behind yourself, noticing how embarrassing the view was, how annoying their laughs and chatting were now that you were trying to talk to him.

"Yeah..." you faced him again and you caught his smile while he looked at them, as if he was trying to recall a memory from the past.

He was difficult to read but brutally honest if he had to be, that' something you found out later that night.

"Why aren't you with them?" He said turning his body around to finish his drink.

The wave of excitement he was able to crash on you with just one gaze was something that you've never experienced before and that you've been dying to feel over and over again.

You eyes landed on the pair of sunglasses that were hanging from his belt before you could look back at him

"Dunno" you said with all the honesty you had and it was true. Frankly, they were just an excuse to stay away from your house, from your parents; an excuse to be able to let your thoughts wander freely, without that heavy guilty feeling pushing down your throat until when your stomach hurt.

"Too bad, you should go back to them" the man put the empty glass on the counter, before he slid his hand into his pocket and dragged a few dollars out of it. You stared at him, studied his every move, from the way his hands wrapped around the glass, to the way he struggled to find the money in his expensive trousers.

You were so infatuated by him that your eyes never left him alone, not even when he walked past you as if you were nothing, as if the conversation never happened, as if he'd never seen you before. You found it extremely captivating, almost irritating.

The man approached the door and simply stepped outside, not looking back and you wished with all of yourself that he was going to but he didn't. His keys were swinging between his fingers as he approached the car but you couldn't let him go.

The once sweet taste he had made you feel on your tongue when you first met his eyes was now replaced by an annoying bitterness that you hated.

It was unexplainable how he had made you feel so much in such a short time and yet, knowing how wrong this was, you felt great distress at the thought of not being able to see him ever again. Stranger to the risk, when you heard his car starting, you rushed outside and stood there, uncertain if what you were putting yourself through was going to be good for you.

He smiled when he saw you as if he knew that you would've done such thing. You weren't so unpredictable as he thought you were and it made you feel really good. Bluntly, and weird to say, it made you feel understood, unlike how others were vieweing you.

"Wanna go for a ride?" you caught his teeth shining between his lips and his sunglasses lowering over his nose so you could see how bright his eyes were.

You took a deep breath of relief and quickly opened the car's door to sit next to him before his hands slide on the steering wheel and you both left the parking lot.

The sun was slowly lowering down the horizon when he drove next to the coast, making you admire the breathtaking view on your right. You could feel the warm light kissing your skin, the breeze of the ocean wrapping around you when you decided to expose yourself out of the car and sense the freedom on your face.

He noticed how your knees were siking into the soft material of the seat, your hands gripping the car, your hair swining all over the place and he didn't even look ahead you, to see what you were seeing, he was looking at you every now and then to catch up with the road.

You looked back at him with such a smile that Barry had to fight the urge to just stop the ride and kiss you but he had to wait for it just like you.

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliff was making you feel so free, a kind of freedom you really never experienced before and when you felt his hand holding your dress a little, you faced him with a smile stamped on your face.

You didn't hesitate to take a good look of him as well and your eyes could't move away from his body, how tensed it was and how badly he was trying to compose himself. His hands were gripping the steering wheel and he cleared his throat before noticing your glare.

That stare you gave him in that bar earlier, piercing into his green eyes just like you were doing right now was only making him struggle to keep himself composed and you noticed it straight away.

You smirked when you observed that he had sped up the car and the wheels were slipping on the smooth road way faster than before, it wasn't that difficult to read him anymore so you decided to take advantage of the situation. Your tongue smoothly caressed your lips before you adjusted yourself on the leather seat, which was a little sticky by now, and slowly moved towards him.

Barry quickly looked down at you and his grasp loosened when he realized what you were about to do. Your hands slide up his clothed thighs, towards his waist to unbuckle his leather belt and lazily opened it, letting the sound of it sending shivers down your spine.

"Eyes on the road" you teased while your hands worked their way into his pants and took his length out. His breath got stuck in his throat and his muscles tensed when you suddenly started to stroke it. Just the sight of the pre cum glistening on the tip of his cock was making you drip wet and when you couldn't even contain your own excitement his hand slowly moved to the back of your head and caressed your hair, making you quiver in anticipation.

"You really want me to stop this car, don't you?" he teased back as you bit your lip, trying to see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses but they quickly moved to the road again before you could even reply.

Your hand kept stroking him slowly, from the tip to the base, squeezing it slightly just to hear how heavy his breathing was and see how badly he was trying to hold himself back from bucking his hips towards your hand and feel more. Before he could even catch his breath your face moved even closer to his cock and the sight he had right down his lap was the best view he has ever seen.

You smiled while your tongue gradually licked and wet his lenght as your hands rested on his thigh and your mouth started to drool already when a loud groan left his lips and his hand kept holding the back of your head.

"Use that slutty mouth you've got, c'mon" he grunted through his teeth, looking down at you when you started to swirl your tongue around his cock and suck it slow enough to make the both of you moan in desperation.

"Fuck...." Barry breathed out, gripping the steering wheel with a hand, trying to keep the car straight while his other hand was holding your hair away from your face.

"That's it- you're doing so well" the sound of his voice alone was making you even more aroused and you couldn't ignore the wet feeling between your legs as you were trying to press your thighs together. His eyes glanced down at you when he heard you gagging miserably around his cock, before he noticed how needlessly you were trying to suffocate the growing ache between your thighs.

"I'm gonna take care of you" he whispered while your hand started to stroke him again, faster and harder than before, just to get him to the point where he couldn't take it anymore and when you saw how close he was you pulled away, smiling proudly and licking your lips as if you thought that that was a smart move... maybe with a guy your age, definately not with him.

Barry watched you sitting back down on your seat without saying anything for a bit, catching his breath while he kept driving but his hand moved towards your dress and he raised it all the way up.

"don't move" his tone was firm, almost urgent as his fingers found the side of your underwear and slid it down your thigh. The whole thing was making you even more excited than it already was and just the way he wanted to touch you to get his revenge was all you needed to get even wetter.

"Take them off" Barry ordered you, looking at the road and then back at you "I said take them off, or you can't even do this?" if it was supposed to offend you it only made you want to tease him even more so you slowly slid your underwear down your thighs and his hand immediately took them and put them into the pocket of his jacket.

"I keep these" he said before his hand returned between your legs "and you keep it quiet" you looked back at him with your lips parted but when you suddenly felt his fingers rubbing your folds a gasp hit your throat and your hands held the seat for dear life.

"What have I just said?" he brought his hand towards your face to force you to look at him back and after a slight squeeze of your cheeks you found the guts to reply "to keep it quiet".

"Good girl" he smiled and let go of your face to bury his hand between your legs and spread your wetness all over your folds before sliding a finger into your smooth core. You bit your lip as hard as you could, holding his wrist with the same urgency he was finger-fucking you.

When he added another finger you knew you weren't going to last any longer and Barry ejoyed to see you begging him with your eyes or with your hand squeezing his wrist so tightly as if he was going to let you cum so beautifully after teasing him that much.

"plea-"

"don't you dare" he said, speeding up the pace until when your back was basically arched from the seat. One more thrust and you were done, one more and you could leave that car and him as well but right when your walls clenched around his fingers he smoothly took them away, trailing your wetness all over your thighs as he stopped the car along the side of the road.

"I said I was going to take care of you..." Barry brought his hand behind your back so you could stand up and follow his movements. "But you changed my plans" he finished and gestured you to sit on his lap.

A smile spread across your face as he held your waist with both of his hands and guided you down his cock. You bit you lips to ignore the delightful feeling that was washing over you so soon and that almost made you feel embarassed for needing him this much.

"oh my- god" you moaned when your walls stretched to welcome him inside of you so sleekly. It took you a bit to adjust to the size before your hips met. You were holding yourself on his shoulders and the excitement was killing you along with the constant ache that was now hitting your core.

You started to move up and down his lap; his cock already twitching deep inside of you, your knees shaking while his hands were guiding your sloppy movements to meet his.

"C'mon darlin'..." he moaned, wrapping a whole arm around your waist to bring you even closer and feel his thrusts hit your deepest spots as your eyes fell shut and your grasp tightned on his shoulders. Your moans turned into desperate cries when your walls painfully clentched around his lenght, miliking it further and further.

"there you go" you finally took control of your movements and started to ride him even faster while his hands were roughtly touching all of your body, spreading waves of excitement through your whole system. Barry smiled at you when he noticed how much more confidence you started to gain to reach your own orgasm. While you worked your way he couldn't ignore how hot you looked and whne you bit your lips he captured them in his.

That kiss, was the cherry on the cake and when both of his arms wrapped around you, your cries became louder and louder until the point where his moans were nothing compared to yours.

"let go for daddy" he said close to your face to maintain the eye contact with you when your body swallowed all the tension and your muscles violently contracted against him to finally let your release squirt all over him.

"Oh... my god" he came right after you, shooting his seed deep inside of you with a loud and painful moan that made shivers run up and down your spine before you could rest your head on his shoulder.

"breathe babe, you did amazing" Barry wrapped his arms around you and gently kissed the side of your head while you tried to catch your breath. He had no idea how much those little things he was saying were affecting you and the inner child within you that never received such praises. He felt how tightly you were hugging and how calm your heartbeat was against his when he talked to you.

You could tell all of that caught him off guard but he didn't hesitate to hug you tighter and you needed that hug more than anything else.

The ride back to your place (where you told him you were living) was quieter as your head rested on his jacket, against the car's door and your legs folded against the seat while the radio played and the sound of the ocean was filling your ears.

When he slowed the car you realized that your house was near and, to make sure that your parents didn't harass you with questions, you quietly hand Barry his jacket and tried to take your panties back but he held your hand as a chuckle left his mouth.

"I keep these, remember?" you smiled at him and left the car, heading to your place but Barry didn't hesitate to follow and the smile that it brought you made him smile too when he noticed it.

"are you up for another ride?" he asked as you approached him again.

"we will see"

"I'll take you out of this town" those words made your heart pound even faster, as if he knew what you needed and actully he did. He saw in you that spark of adventure that he was looking for and you saw in him someone who could truly take care of you and make you feel worth it.

"Forever?"

"If you want" he smiled and shrugged as the car stayed next to you.

"we will see"

"pack your things, I'll be here tomorrow"and with this Barry drove away, leaving that sweet taste your tongue when you first met his eyes again.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ ──────────── 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

for my girl @dxddycruise I hope you like it 🎀

#tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise smut #barry seal #american made

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lyrenminth · 4 days

Text

Quiet love 4/?

+18 some parts are smut. Proceed with caution.

You must know already. You could notice it underneath the stern frown and the politeness.

Justin was touch-starving.

He would touch you every time he was closer to you. He loved cuddle time and making breakfast together so he could grabbed your waist or touch your butt and pretend it was an accident. He would stand behind you, his warm chest glued to your back, to help you to reach something from the cabinets.

Since his job was so demanding he was trying a better quality time. You went for walk around the neighborhood or things like that. You couldn't wait for the off-season.

Things changed a little bit. For example, the kisses and hugs. His body was free to touch as well as yours. In the house, it was your little paradise.

Outside, he was different more tense and reserved. You still haven't meet his teammates.

You were ok with that. The season was three months away to finish and you didn't want to put pressure.

He was almost never home. You texted more, or make video calls when he was available.

Justin was so kind to explain you his moods during the season and how to handle it. And you were so grateful for that. You already knew things about the NFL, the schedule and administrative stuff so he didn't have to explain everything to you.

"If we lose, just hug me" he said one night when you were cuddling together. Your head was on his chest, and he was touching your arm absentmindedly "If we win, we can have something delicious to eat. Sometimes I just want to be here and pretend I don't have to play a big game on Sunday"

"It's very stressful, isn't?"

He nodded, and you couldn't resist to kiss his pouty mouth.

"I'm proud of you"

"Thank you"

"Really, Justin"

"You make things easier" a shadow crossed his eyes. "What?" you asked him.

"I remember when you told me you were leaving to Michigan" he stated in a low voice "I...felt butthurt for a while. To be honest, I felt I was losing you"

"Yeah? I know we agree to go to Oregon together" you remembered, feeling bad. "Sorry"

"No, no. I understand now"

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes" his voice sounded hoarse.

"I missed you too. But you were so busy"

"When I saw you again, during the dinner..." he left out a shaky breath "Mitch can tell you"

You laughed. "Tell me what?"

"I couldn't stop looking at you, seriously" even in the dark, you blushed. "You were like a beautiful ghost. He scold me later because I was creepy"

"Really? For me you were being your usual self"

He laughed. "Yeah, I don't know"

"To be honest, I change a lot during my time in Michigan" you confessed "But it was for the best"

"I notice you talk more" he pointed out. He put you closer if possible. "You are...more...confident? I don't know how to describe it"

"Yes, I worked a lot on me"

"Do you think I have changed?" he asked, like he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Yes, you have changed. Everyone does" you sighed and touched his pointy nose "Somehow you are still the same in certain aspects like your introversion, your sense of humor, your love for nature"

He nodded in agreement.

"I think you are right"

"I have know you for a looong time babe"

"Dont you get bored of me?" he asked, you kissed him "No, never"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The sex wasn't frequent but pretty passionate. He had a way with his mouth that made you shake and gasp for air. He had a beautiful body he didn't like to show so much even in his house, and his ass? Good God, you wanted to bite him so badly.

That morning you were making a green smoothie when he appeared in a rush only to stop when he saw you standing in the kitchen with a tank top and some shorts.

"Those are new?" he asked, getting closer and touching your ass.

You giggled your butt at him. "No"

"Damn, you legs look great"

"Yes?"

"Bend over"

"Justin" you warn him. It was Wednesday, he arrived late yesterday and now he was heading to practice. "You need to arrive early today?"

"No"

You bend over the counter, just a little so he could watch your ass better.

"Beautiful" he whispered in awe.

You stood straight again. "Do you want a smoothie?"

"Nah, I'll have breakfast there"

"Oh, okay"

"I can eat something else though" he grabbed you by your waist and put you over the counter.

"I would love it too, but you seriously need to go to practice, the team needs you" you said against his mouth. He groaned, frustrated.

"Okay"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Chargers got eliminated during the playoffs. And this was the first hard moment in your relationship with Justin. He didn't want to hear anything, he was sore and frustrated but somehow he understood the situation. The injuries and bad calls kill them.

You were trying to comfort him as he said, and since his schedule wasn't clear he still was busy doing interviews and commercials.

It was during an interview that he kinda mention he wasn't single. You weren't expecting it.

"Yeah, you know it's tough but I think you need to surround yourself with people who care about you, in this case my family and partner so the process is easier. I reminds you to stay grounded"

The following questions were about the team and so, but some fans catch up the "partner" and entire forums on internet started creating articles with crazy headlines and speculations. You couldn't resist the temptation and checked on one blog or two. You never exposed Justin on your socials, and you tried to be discreet while out but in the era of the camera nothing was private.

There was a blurry pic of you two outside a restaurant. Justin was talking on his phone and you were looking at yours.

Your stomach dropped.

Your face wasn't clear enough but Justin was recognizable for a mile away.

"This is the chick"

"I can't see shit"

"Oh my god! All my chances are ruined"

"They are standing like two feet apart I don't think they're dating"

It was true, at the time that pic was taken you were still friends. However...

"She's after the money for sure"

"She is tall like him but she seems basic"

"He deserves better tbh"

"If he starts playing bad we know why"

"THIS IS WHY WE GOT ELIMINATED???"

You stopped reading after that. The rampant misogyny made want to cry.

---------------------

Justin had the day off. And you were more than happy to have him home. The energy between you was strange though, more for you than him. During the evening while he grilled some meat you spoke about it.

"I saw the interview you did with Henkins" you mention casually "I think you broke a thousand girls' heart with that comment"

He raised his eyebrow, his side grin starting to grow.

"I think it would make you happy"

You blushed. "Yes, but it's scary. I'm not sure if I want people to know me"

"Bet they would love you"

You weren happy with that. The anxiety was creeping in. "I mean I fear my privacy, my job is kinda scrict about that..."

"Don't worry, we can keep our relationship private, I like it that way"

But still wasn't enough. You change your weight between one foot and the other. He sense you uneasiness and asked: "What?"

"I just commit the mistake of reading online" he rolled his eyes and cut you "Ohh, I told you not to do it" he said displeased, your stomach twisted "Those are strangers, don't let their invalid opinion affect you"

You sighed, gulping the tears. "I don't know, I never thought how it would be...don't be mad at me"

He put the tong on the table and gave you a hug, that was enough to make you feel supported. "Sorry it's just that is something silly to do that babe. I'm not mad, just worried"

"Because you are a social media quaterback" you said recalling that critique. He laughed "You cruel, no grilled meat for you then" he slapped you ass and sent you away.

And you had a better mood.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You were standing up between his legs, he was sitting comfortably in the couch. You were talking about...you don't remember, you said something bad and he got mad then you got mad, and you went to your room to vent. In your silence you realize you were wrong, an you were acting bratty so you went down to apologize. He was mad first but then look at your legs, a dark glimpse in his eye.

Ok, he was so hot when he was angry. Hot and scary. Like he could hold you with those strong arms and manhandle you until you were all on fours...Oh, yes, you needed to say sorry first.

"Sorry, Justin. I...yeah"

"Yeah? Thats all?"

"It was wrong to get mad over something like that"

"Baby, we were talking about cats, what the hell happened?"

"I don't know" you bite your lips.

"Ok" he pondered his next move for a few seconds. "Strip" he ordered.

"What?" you said.

He was going to spank you? Like right know? and why you were reluctant to the idea? You knew he was dominat in bed, but never like this. Your heart was beating so fast and you were so wet. His eyes were feral roaming your body like a lion before eating his prey. He put a hand on his bulge, squeezing himself.

With shaky hands you obeyed, piece by piece, your lace panties were the only barrier now. Without hesitation, Justin leaned in and kiss your lower belly sending a wave of heat direct to your core. You almost squirmed.

"Justin" you pleaded.

His hand traveled across your breasts and below, until they stopped in your mount of Venus. You were shaking, horny as fuck.

"You smell so good" he said, inhaling your scent. "Let me see" his voice was low, thick and grovel. With one finger he moved your panties aside, only to see how soaked you were. "Oh, my poor girl. I've leave you unattended, don't I?"

"Yes" you moaned when his fingers touched your clit.

"But you deserved it after acting like that?"

"Please" you sounded so needy that if you weren't so horny you would feel the shame.

His finger started rubbing your clit in the motion that make your knees weak. You started moving your hips to match the touch.

"So damn pretty"

Your uneven breath and the slick sounds were the only thing you could hear. Your legs started shaking your walls clenching around nothing. When you came apart Justin made you sit on his strong legs.

You looked instinctively for his lips, but he held you steady against his legs.

"Justin" you pleaded, touching his bulge. You wanted him in your mouth. You wiggled your ass to move away and kneel in front of him. When he let you, you didn't waste time to pull down his pants. His erection stood up, and you take the shaft with your hand, you gave him a few pumps before looking at him. His eyes were darker but he was fully confident.

"Do you like my cock, don't you?" you never could have guessed Justin was a dirty talker, but he was and excellent at it.

"Let me show you" you tongue made to job.

You licked his shaft up and down. Enjoying the little sounds he made. He was thick and hot in your mouth. He grabbed your hair and guided your mouth so you could take him deeper, until your eyes started getting watery. You loved when he was in control. He released you, and you took a few breaths before going down again. "Oh, yes...oh my god" he groaned. Justin stood up taking you with him and kissed you ferociously. "Show me that pretty ass, don't you?" he demanded. You obeyed, sitting on the couch carefully trying not to lose your balance. He stood up behind you, so he could see everything. You wiggled your ass to tease him, but suddenly stopped when he spank your ass kinda hard. You gasped, feeling hot the spot he hit. "Oh, my..." he started caressing your ass again. "Tell why do you apologize?"

"Because I call you an unreasonable prick" you cried. Another spank that made you flinch. Your walls were clenching around nothing and you couldn't understand why this was turning you on so bad. "And leaving without talking" the soft caresses after the spank were the best.

You felt long finger opening your folds, looking for your clit. "Don't look back" he ordered. You cried helpless. Two fingers were inside you now, pushing gently. It felt so good you almost purred from contentment. "You're so wet" he said again. He was using both hands, one to stimulate your clit while the other finger you. You were growing hotter and hotter by each minute. Whimpering and moaning. Your gaze started getting cloudy when he stopped.

He. Stopped.

"What? No, no, no" you cried "please continue this feel so good"

"I don't think so" he stated, calm.

"What?" you said getting angry. He took his pants down and move behind you, and spank you one last time then you feel his cock in your entrance "I'm an unreasonable prick, remember?"

"I said sorry" you cried.

"And I forgive you" he said sliding in, you felt stretched and full, but you missed his hand touching your clit it was better, more intense. You had to grab the edges of the couch when he started thrusting so hard into you. He was so fierce that you forgot how to talk or think properly. You could only feel the wonderful friction between your bodies.

"Yes, yes, yes" you said, your face against the couch. When his pace slowed down and his hand searched for your clit, rubbing it gently you were in a state of ecstasy. You clenched your walls around him, he hissed and spanked you again. But you were ascending to heaven for the second time to even care. You moaned his name, and he increased the rhythm. "You. Are. Mine" he said between every thrust.

"Yes, yes!" you cried. You felt his cock twitch inside you confirming his climax, and he laid down over you for a second . His heavy breathing was on your neck, and he hugged you from behind.

You stayed like that for a few minutes.

It was too early to say "I love you"? You wondered because that's what you were feeling. Justin slip out and turned you around. Your lazy smile made him laughed. "Do you want water?" he said, standing up in all his naked glory. What a man. He was a Michelangelo sculpture for sure.

"Yes, please"

Justin was into aftercare too. And your heart couldn't handle his attentiveness. He cleaned you and help you to put your clothes on. Brought you water and snacks, and cuddle with you.

When you both were in your little bubble, you felt like nothing could go wrong.

#justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert imagine #nfl

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dani-says-stuff · 8 months

Text

The Art of Distraction

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- couldn't wait to bulk post, i'm actually pretty proud of this one

- i didn't end up using the exact line/prompt in the request because it didnt really fit, but it's similar enough for the point to get across

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Nate Hardy x fem!reader

Summary: Based on this request

i tried lol, i dont know if it's as spicy as you were hoping it to be, but i packed it with extra stuff just incase that part came out super cringy.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cringe, suggestive(?), mentions of a haunting that i completely made up for background, very very loosely based on the witch's forest video, inconsistent capitalization, my usual grammar warning... i dont think theres anything bad in here but to be honest i cant really remember

Dialogue Key: Probably dont even need this, but just for consistancy

Y/N

Nate

couldnt really find a great gif for this fic, but i think its funny so im dropping it here.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

It had been a few hours since you had returned home and you'd yet to stop shaking. You'd been on investigations with Nate and the boys in the past, but this one in particular threw you way more than you thought it would.

For the entire car ride back home, the events wouldn't stop rapidly flicking through your mind. Nate's arm resting on the console and his hand softly placed on your thigh did little to ground you as it normally did. The thought of reaching down and intertwining your fingers as you'd done many times before didn't even come to mind, your hands too busy picking at your sleeves to do anything else.

Dark midnight skies barely visible through clusters of twisted curling tree branches.

Thick wooden trunks placed around you like a maze, they all looked the same no matter which direction you went.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel kicking up in clouds behind you, scraping up the backs of your legs from the speed at which you were running.

Branches strewn across the overgrown path splitting and cracking loudly beneath your feet.

Your throat, raw from screaming out to the boys.

Your heartbeat, deafening in your ears.

Nate's one-sided conversation through the duration of the ride back barely made its way to your ears, it felt like you were underwater or your ears were stuffed with cotton.

The only thing you could hear clearly was the memory of your own panicked screams earlier that night.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

It had started just as any other investigation had, and for the first time in a while, it wasn't happening in a building.

The first half of the video held a strangely nostalgic vibe. In the days of a better quality Sam and Colby channel, where they were now able to book the big shot hauntings and go to different countries with loads of equipment, would sit a small video similar to those of their early days.

They were once again investigating an area that wasn't highly publicized, the only ones to know of it being the eager locals with decades of ghost stories to share.

It was said that there was a witch who lived deep within the forest many centuries ago. She dwelled in a quaint cottage where she would practice her spells and hexes... or at least that's how the villagers of the time saw her.

It didn't matter that the woman was in the woods alone because her family had all perished from sickness.

It didn't matter that she was cooking up the same herbal home remedies as everyone else.

When the drought came and wiped out the village crops but the witch's garden in the woods flourished due to the untouched aquifer beneath her land, they were furious.

It was said that they marched upon her house late one night, torches and pitchforks held high, enraged at the witch in the woods. They yelled, taunting her to emerge so they could take her into the small town square. When she refused, they tossed their torches at the structure, laughter overpowering the screams of the woman inside as the house was engulfed in flame.

It was thought to be an old wives tale, the witch deep in the woods brooding silently as she worked on enchantments was hardly anything new. It was simply a story passed down from parent to child in hopes of keeping the energetic children from venturing off too far on their own.

But then they started finding things.

The ruins of a small house, a foundation of stone left behind in the middle of the forest.

Old, hand-made historic brick, placed in a careful circle like the makings of a well.

The bones found throughout the property, most likely scattered by animals and winds over time.

With the influx of people from the small town once again venturing into the forest, it was only natural that the witch would awaken.

So, you all ventured into the woods with no more than a flashlight each, a spirit box, and a REM pod to see if you would be able to communicate with the spirit of the witch that haunted the woods.

When the sun set was when everything went wrong.

The REM pod began going off rapidly, pointing in every direction, no clear responses being drawn from the item. The spirit box chirped to life despite never being turned on, spouting one word.

Run.

Branches cracked from close behind you, startling your group of four to do exactly that.

You made it a few feet when you tripped over something cold and solid, just tall enough to catch the end of your shoe as you ran. Your flashlight tumbled from your hand, rolling across the ground to show two very terrifying things.

One, the lack of the three boys running along behind you, meaning that you had managed to run off in a different direction than they had. You were now completely alone in the forest that was difficult to navigate in a group.

Two, a short stone wall standing before you, encapsulating the leafy floor you were splayed across. You had managed to run straight into the remains of the cottage.

If matters couldn't get any worse, the very thing commonly experienced by those who ventured to this area happened to you. It was said that if you ventured onto her land, the witch would drain the power of your devices and most often—the batteries of your flashlights.

Any sort of light brought near the ruins in the dead of night would be promptly snuffed out, assumingly because of the tragedy that occurred the last time beacons of light were brought to the location.

Your flashlight began to flicker.

Once.

Twice.

And then the light was gone, submerging you completely in the stale darkness of night.

Everything after that was a blur, all you could comprehend were the quick flashes terrorizing your mind.

Dark midnight skies.

Clusters of twisted tree branches.

A wooden maze of towering trees.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel stinging your legs.

Burning muscles.

Overgrown paths.

Panicked screams of both you and Nate as you scrambled blindly through the wood.

Your heartbeat pounding in your head.

Just as it felt like you were running aimlessly then, you felt as if you could make no progress now.

No matter how far you ran—no matter how much time had passed—you stayed terrified.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Both bedside lamps were on as you burrowed yourself under countless layers of blankets and sheets, your body curled in a tight ball. After all, if your blankets are covering you, the monster under the bed doesn't know you are there.

All that peaked out from the fluffy mass on the bed were your eyes, gaze solely focused on the Disney movie you'd turned on moments before, proving to yourself that witches aren't really as scary as they appear.

Good always wins and bad things can't reach you.

Nate entered the room about fifteen minutes into your movie, hair still damp from the shower and one of your favorite shirts of his draped over his shoulders. It was an old T-shirt from who knows how long ago, but it was soft from wear and one of the most comforting things in the world to have pressed against your skin when he pulled you into his chest at night.

His eyebrows furrowed at your eyes, wide and alert, quickly darting to him when he entered the bedroom, "Babe?" he spoke softly, slowly approaching and kneeling down by the bedside, fishing for your hand beneath the blankets, "Are you ok?"

His eyes were sincere and brimming with worry as he looked upon you, gaze scanning over what he could see of you, assessing any damage that may have occurred in the brief time he left you alone.

You nodded slowly, eyes abandoning the movie and choosing to find solace in him instead.

Once deeming you in no worse condition than he left you in, his head moved finally noticing the laptop perched on the mattress and the movie that previously held your attention playing out on the screen.

A teasing smirk graced his features, "Really?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and you somehow managed to descend deeper into your cocoon. Your words were muffled by the comforter blocking the lower half of your face, "I needed to get my mind off of it." Nate laughed quietly at your explanation making you double down out of embarrassment, "I needed something to distract me so I could sleep."

"A Disney movie?" he spoke, equal parts teasing and condescending.

"What?" you whined rolling your eyes at him, "It always worked when I was younger."

He hummed, standing up and plucking the laptop from the bed, quickly shutting it off and placing it to the side despite your protests.

"Well," Nate spoke, waggling his eyebrows at you a few times in order to get you to laugh, "now you don't need 'em."

You raised a single eyebrow, scanning him skeptically, "Why's that?"

"Because," he trailed off, leaning to press a loving kiss to your forehead, "I'm going to be the best damn distraction you've ever seen."

"Oh really?"

He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your nose.

You tilted your head slightly to the side with wide puppy dog eyes staring up at him, not quite getting what he was implying, "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

Nate pulled the covers down to your chin with a soft, lovesick smile, "Like this." he whispered, finally placing a kiss on your lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a warmth flooding your body unlike the one gained from the blankets. This was a warmth that came from the innermost parts of your soul, igniting each and every nerve, setting them on fire.

He slowly peeled back the blankets to reveal your form, arms covered with goosebumps from the stark temperature difference flew up to wrap around his neck the second they were released, fingers sinking into his hair. His own arms swiftly moved around your waist, pulling your bodies even closer as he moved onto the bed hovering over you, never once daring to break the kiss.

The only time his lips left yours where when they moved to trace your jawline and trail down your neck leaving you breathless.

He moved across your skin, leaving a tapestry of red and purple in his wake, painting your skin the same colors as the fireworks dancing behind your eyelids. With your mind focused on him, there was no room to think of anything else, he moved in a way that you couldn't fathom wanting to think of anything else.

His hands dipped lower and lower, teasing beneath the hemming of your sleepshirt and caressing your warm skin.

He leaned back, removing his lips from you after what felt like hours, pupils blown wide and a loving, lustful haze clouding over his eyes.

The only reason he parted was to drag the shirt up off your body with his own quickly following suit to be thrown blindly into a corner, lips hungrily returning to your own the minute the barrier was gone.

He held your attention fully until the sun breached the horizon line, chasing the moon and darkness of night away as it found its rightful place up in the sky. The night was over, any thoughts you had of terrible twisting branches and evil witches dissolved in the light of morning—at least the ones that hadn't been valiantly chased away by your very own knight in shining armor.

You lay in bed beneath the single bedsheet, head resting against Nate's chest as he absentmidedly traced shapes across your back, humming a random melody as he did so. The warm light of day breaching through the cracks of the drawn curtains, bathing your tangled limbs in soft gold.

He was right, you didn't need to distract yourself with the technicolor animations of your childhood. You didn't need to dull your senses with endless hours of princes and princesses saving the day anymore.

Not when you had your very own fairytale sitting right in front of you, ready and waiting to do whatever it takes to give you your happy ending.

With that thought and a sweet smile gracing your lips you closed your eyes, finally able to get some sleep.

#nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #sam and colby imagine #request

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thecrazygamingzombie · 6 months

Text

How Viviziepop kickstarted the third wave of indie animation.

Okay, I've been seeing a lot of people talk about the tweet below and how Viv doesn't deserve to take credit for the success of other indie animation projects online but the fact of the matter is...she does, in an indirect way at least.

First, let's start off with a brief history of indie animation:

everything started out on a site called newgrounds, I'm sure you've all heard of it. Created by Tom Fulp in the 90s to show case some of his half baked game ideas. Which eventually evolved into a place where indie creators could post anything they wanted without fear of censorship; the rating system that automatically removed any posts that dropped too low being the only source of quality control.

This gave indie animation it's initial foothold online but without any way of obtaining a revenue stream it never really moved beyond a fun hobby done to practice one's art/coding skills or just screw around with friends online.

This problem got more significant as time went on and many of the teenage artists that gave newgrounds it's inital success, such as RicePirate and Tom Fulp, grew into young adults who needed a revenue stream. Luckily they found one in the form of youtube.

With these monetization policies, many indie animators were actually able to go into animation practically full time. Their pre-existing income bolstered by that of youtube and what followed was a golden era of animation, just an explosion of content across the board. You had stuff like Eddsworld, Salad Fingers, ASDF movie, and tons of other creators bursting onto the scene.

all putting their content out there on Youtube for the world to see. All bolstered by revenue coming in from Youtube...but the good times never last

See, back then youtube's monetization policies were pretty simple: the more views your channel got, the more money you'd make. Great for short form animators and also great for clickbait youtubers who abused the system with deceiving thumbnails and titles!

To combat this, Youtube changed it's monetization policies in March of 2012: instead of being rewarded on view count, monetization would instead reward the time watched during a video. Which created a system where longer videos with frequent uploads were rewarded

In theory this was supposed to stop clickbait videos as people would just watch for a few seconds and leave. But in practice? It meant that animators were put at a heavy disadvantage as now they'd have to put in significantly more work for the same result.

This caused a complete and total crash of indie animation online. Between an unfair algorithm and the rise of gaming channels, most indie animators couldn't gather the same level of funding they could before and had to either quit or scale back.

Only the big name animators who could coast by on brand recognition such as Harry Partridge and TomSka among several others, or larger channels with dedicated teams similar to tv studios such as Mondo Media and Rooster Teeth. Were able to keep going.

This started a brief dark age for online animation until the advent of story time animators. People like Jaiden Animations, Swoozie, and TheOdd1sOut who relied on simplistic art styles with minimalist animation that focused on content reminiscent of old vlogs where the animators simply share stories from their everyday lives that allowed them to put out longer videos faster; thus working around the monetization system that had put so many animators out in the cold.

While they didn't solve the problem, in some ways they made it worse by starting a trend that attracted countless copycats, they did help sustain an interest in indie animation online and ensure there was a consistent audience for such a medium.

Now it wasn't a total wasteland mind you, as I said there were still plenty of animators who survived the purge. There were even a few channels such as Shut Up Cartoons and Mondo Media, again, that helped produce dozens of animated series from indie creators.

But even at it's best, these series were still very amateurish. The passion was obviously there but these were still very simplistic flash or stop motion animations with low budgets and small teams, focusing more on episodic skits than any sort of overarching plot

This environment of amateur passion projects, where animated series were usually very small scale and never really escaped from the limited sphere of youtube, went on for several years and kept the animation community alive. Until Viv posted Hazbin Hotel and brought about the third wave of indie animation.

Unlike the previous examples, Hazbin Hotel was a VERY different beast from most indie animation. Not only did it have an extremely distinct visual style but the animation was so fluid, so professionally made, it felt like something you'd see out of a mainstream studio. It felt leagues above the average indie project in terms of quality.

Now Viv had already a decent audience from her Zoophobia webcomic, her speed draws, and the die young video. So it wasn't like she was starting from nothing. But there was no denying that this new form of animation caught people's attention and caught it FAST.

You all can probably recall the explosion of discussion that surrounded the original pilot and how it was all the internet was talking about for awhile. Viv road that wave and used the momentum to launch 'Helluva Boss' another indie production with a similar style.

This made her even more popular, especially when she started cranking out new episodes of the latter series with the same high quality as before, and soon her fanbase swelled to millions. A fanbase that was more than happy to crowdfund Viv's work through patreon and merch sales. Then other animators saw this and realized that there was a sizable audience for animated content; one that could not only sustain professional level animation, but was desperate for more content of this scale. Soon several other series started cropping up like MurderDrones, Lackadaisy, Monkey Wrench, and the Amazing Digital Circus. All of which followed Viv's lead of producing high quality, fluid animation with overarching plots that drew funding entirely from legions of online fans.

For the first time in a long time, indie animation was breaking out of it's original platform and reaching far more mainstream audiences than it ever has in the past on a scale never before seen and it's all because Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss kicked off this new animation renaissance!

Now I'm not gonna say Viv was solely responsible, the series we enjoy now have thrived primarily on their own merits and the creative minds behind them.

But as it stands, her work played a big role in setting the stage for other indie animation projects and creating the perfect conditions for them to thrive amidst the current digital landscape. Like it or not, Viv is the catalyst for modern indie animation. To deny Viv her rightful place in history out of spite is nothing short of historical revisionism.

Give the gal her due, she's done some amazing things for this crazy world we live in.

Here's the videos I got most of my info from, it's important to cite one's sources after all!

youtube

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #animation #indie animation #long post #tumblr essay #Youtube

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hollowed-theory-hall · 1 month

Text

Justice for Barty Crouch Jr: Part 1/2

(Part 2)

This is a bit of a weird theory, and I'll confess, some of the evidence is not all that conclusive. But I didn't see anyone mention anything about this anywhere else...

When I reread the books recently, I noticed I really liked Mad-Eye Moody in Goblet of Fire. Moody in the fourth book is actually one of my favorite characters, he makes the top 10. But then I reached Order of the Phoenix and realized (again) that I hate Moody's guts.

The only conclusion I could draw was that I really liked Barty Crouch Jr. because, Moody in book 4, wasn't really Moody. So, I went back to Goblet of Fire to try and find out who Barty is, how his behavior as Moody, differed from the real deal in the later books, and why I liked him when I didn't like the real Moody.

And let's just say, I came to some interesting conclusions...

This post ended up being pretty long, so I've divided it up into two. But my thesis is:

Barty was a Death eater, but he didn't torture the Longbottoms.

He didn't want Harry to be hurt during the Tornoment and actually cared about him.

And I can prove it!

Reasons for Doubt

When reviewing all the scenes of Barty Jr, it was made clear pretty quickly that Barty wasn't really trying to fool anyone. Actually, he seemed to be actively sabotaging himself.

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, “Moody, old man ... what a thing to say!” “We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” said Karkaroff loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 279)

From the very beginning, Barty is outright telling everyone what happened. And exactly how:

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!” said Moody. “It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. ... I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category. ...” “You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” said Karkaroff coldly, “and a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 279-280)

He goes as far as to explain how he got Harry into the tournament. To the point even Karkaroff thinks it's strange Moody would bother putting so much thought into it. And he's right, it is super strange.

Barty shouldn't be explaining that to the people he is supposedly trying to deceive. It's so incredibly revealing and counterproductive. And it's not that Barty is stupid, he shows he is both intelligent and competent to a degree it's clear that if he really wanted to not be discovered he wouldn't be (he transfigured his father's corpse to a bone and buried it in the forest when he didn't wish to be found out, clearly, he can get away with murder when he wants to). So why all of this? Why try so hard to tell them exactly what's going on? Why is he showing his hand?

It won't be out of character for Moody to not mention all of it. He could not go into as much detail easily. But, he chooses to go into detail about the very method he used to get Harry chosen for the tournament. Like he's trying to get himself caught.

“So . . . whoever conjured the Dark Mark . . .” said Hermione slowly, “were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?” “Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione,” said Mr. Weasley. “But I’ll tell you this . . . it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I’d be very surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death Eater once, even if they’re not now. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 143)

This is an earlier note from Hermione, and I agree with her 100%. The goal of Barty when casting the Dark Mark isn't clear. We know he is a marked Death Eater, but so are Regulus and Snape. We know not all Death Eaters agreed with everything they did, and some of them had regrets. And it's kind of interesting this idea that Barty cast the Dark Mark to scare the attackers off was planted this early in the book.

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air. “Teaching,” said Moody. “Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms. “Yep,” said Moody.

(Goblet of Fire, page 206)

I wanted to add this scene just because of the "yep" as his response to McGonagall, but this entire conversation, actually is noteworthy. Why? Well, the mannerism.

Moody whom we meet in book 5 and onwards doesn't speak or act like this. The mannerisms and speech patterns we see in this conversation are 100% Barty Crouch Jr. And this isn't the only scene in which his own mannerisms peek through because he isn't putting much effort into his act.

Here are some examples of how Moody talks in book 5, for comparison:

“Well, congratulations,” said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 169)

“Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.” “Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs. Weasley. “ ’Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake. . . . Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him —”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 491)

He's more gruff, more blunt, more paranoid. He isn't as gentle with Harry and Ron as Barty was (I'll showcase some of these moments later). And he shows full faith in Dumbledore's decisions. Something, Barty doesn't do even when pretending to be Moody.

Some Background

I want to talk about Barty's trial and Azkaban sentence for a bit, along with his relationship with his father as it explains a lot about him as a character...

and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. “You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,” he said clearly, “so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous —” “Father,” said the boy with the straw-colored hair. “Father . . . please . . .” “— that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror — Frank Longbottom — and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —” “Father, I didn’t!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I didn’t, I swear it, Father, don’t send me back to the dementors —”

(Goblet of Fire, page 594)

Does this look like a hardened Death Eater who was happy to torture the Longbottoms and proud to serve his lord?

No, this is a terrified nineteen-year-old kid who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

Barty continues and calls:

“Mother!” screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. “Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me!”

...

“No! Mother, no! I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t know! Don’t send me there, don’t let him!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 595)

Barty calls this as Bellatrix and the Lestranges are completely calm, taking credit for torturing the Longbottoms. Shouting at Crouch Sr, that Voldemort would return. Barty isn't doing that, he isn't the fanatic Death Eaters, he's a scared boy:

But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. “I’m your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I’m your son!” “You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!” The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed. “Take them away!” Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. “Take them away, and may they rot there!” “Father! Father, I wasn’t involved! No! No! Father, please!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 596)

Barty keeps swearing he wasn't involved and that he didn't do it. that it wasn't him. Compared to how calm the three Lestranges are — it's clear something's up.

I think Barty is telling the truth here. I think he really didn't torture the Longbottoms.

Barty was still acting as a scared boy, just like in his trial, even in front of only dementors and Death Eaters, when there was no need to act. He is described by Sirius when he arrived in Azkaban:

I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty was young and scared and kept to the same behavior even with no audience to convince — which means it wasn't a lie. It wasn't an act. He really didn't do it.

Sirius talks a little bit about Braty's childhood, his relationship with Crouch Sr and the events leading up to his trial:

“Crouch’s own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”

...

“Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son.” He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. “Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

...

“...Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty, at the time of his trial and sentence, wasn't even for sure a Death Eater. He wasn't actually caught doing anything, he was caught with Death Eaters who escaped an Azkaban sentence, which means Death Eaters other than the Lestranges. This means he wasn't even caught on the scene of the Longbottoms torture, but somewhere else and unrelated. It proves even more that Barty was innocent regarding the torture of Frank and Alice.

We know he was a Death Eater because he could cast the Dark Mark. But, I think he wasn't involved in torturing the Longbottoms or anyone, for that matter. I don't think he had it in him before Azkaban and years of torment by his father.

The other thing of note is Crouch's treatment of his son. He was an absent father, caring more for his ministry position than his family. And we see later in GoF that Barty despises his father. I think he disliked him even before being kept under the imperious curse for years. I think that's what pushed Barty to become a Death Eater, it was something to spite his father. To create a distance between them.

His murder of his father during GoF is probably the only murder he wanted a part of. Actually, his father is the only person we know he killed. He didn't get the chance to kill the real Moody, and he never killed anyone else.

Once the boy [Barty Jr] had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him

(Goblet of Fire, page 529)

More from Sirius that strengthens my former point. Barty joined the Death Eaters, in large to go against his father.

This vendetta against his father is the main reason I believe Barty chooses this plan to aid Voldemort. Well, there are some other reasons, but using the tournament is a good way for him to mess with his father's reputation. That same reputation that was more important to him than his own son.

As a Teacher and Mentor

A lot of fans like to say Remus Lupin was the best DADA teacher Harry had, I'd actually argue it was Moody (aka Barty). I'm saying that because Barty-as-Moody was the one who taught Harry many of the techniques and approaches he keeps going back to in the books.

The constant vigilance that saves him multiple times is from Barty, not the real Moody.

His resistance to the imperious curse.

When Harry quotes Moody in his head under certain situations for the advice he was given, it's not advice from the real Moody but from Barty:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy

(Order of the Phoenix, page 630)

This above quote is based on Barty's advice in GoF, not the real Moody.

Barty made Harry think of becoming an auror. He was the one who convinced him he could become one:

“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” “No,” said Harry, taken aback. “You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed . . . and incidentally . . . I’m guessing you weren’t just taking that egg for a walk tonight?” “Er — no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working out the clue.” Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. “Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter. . . . See you in the morning. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 477-478)

Barty did more for Harry's self-esteem than any other teacher.

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double. “Look at that, you lot ... Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 232)

In the above scene, Barty is delighted by Harry's resistance of the imperious. He is so proud and fond. I already mentioned and will continue showing how Barty did very little acting when he pretended to be Moody, as such, I don't think he's pretending here either. I think he actually is delighted.

And, I mean, think about it, why would a servant loyal to Voldemort teach Harry Potter how to resist the imperius? Why would he keep practicing with him throughout the year to make sure he was good at it? Why make sure Harry knows people would want to control him and he should make it hard for them?

The only conclusion I can come to is that he is trying to help Harry from a limited position. Why and How will be discussed later.

Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. “Neville?” Hermione said gently. “Neville, what — ?” But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard. “It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. ...” Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry. “You all right, are you, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly. Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending ... well ... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 219)

And he wasn't only the best DADA teacher for Harry, he was the best teacher for Neville too. He actually helped the son of the Longbottoms he was sent to Azkaban for torturing.

Just, he is the only adult attempting to build up Neville's confidence in himself and his abilities. He encourages Neville's love of Herbology and doesn't ridicule him like most other adults in Neville's life.

Also in the above quote, he clearly wants to tell Harry more. "but you’ve got to know", he says. He is trying to prepare Harry for what's to come. Why would he do that if he wants him dead?

As a Defender of Harry

To continue off Barty actually steps up to defend Harry a lot throughout the book. Even at times, he won't necessarily have to. I mean, the real Moody was never this protective of Harry. Sure, he kept him safe, but he didn't really care for Harry's feelings and self-esteem. Barty did.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from behind them. Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff’s face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him

(Goblet of Fire, page 258)

He's scaring Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students away from Harry. The moment before this quote had the Durmstrang students and Karkaroff noticing Harry for the first time as they were leaving the Great Hall on the day they arrived at Hogwarts. They all freeze and stare at Harry, knowing his story and probably about to ask him questions, it's not like Karkaroff would've done anything in the Great Hall. But Moody (Barty) steps in to fend off Harry's discomfort! Hes not even in actual physical danger! Just discomfort!

Harry hesitated. He’d been afraid of this — but he hadn’t told Cedric, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules. “It’s all right,” said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. ��Cheating’s a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and always has been.” “I didn’t cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was — a sort of accident that I found out.” Moody grinned. “I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 343-344)

Moody is glad Harry knows about the dragons, and that could be explained by wanting him to win so he could get to the graveyard (that plan had so many problems in it that I'll get to later) but that isn't the only thing he reveals here. He calls out Dumbledore and his attitude. He shows his dislike towards Dumbledore and his moral flexibility regarding cheating - two things the real Moody will never say. And he would definitely not phrase them like this. This whole conversation — that's all Barty.

Barty, who is actually encouraging Harry and belittling Dumbledore.

That sentence about proving Dumbledore's human, I think Barty shares that feeling. He agrees with the other headmasters on that. Even if he hates Karkaroff's guts.

Because he actually does hate all the Death Eaters that got away genuinely, but not for the same reasons as, let's say, Bellatrix. Bellatrix dislikes them for their lack of loyalty to their lord; Barty hates them out of envy.

Barty was sent to Azkaban for his mark even if he never tortured or killed anyone. And these other Death Eaters, ones he might know killed or tortured, got out scott-free. He was fought alongside them and still sent to the dementors instead of being let go. And he is bitter.

Also, important to remember, that a year in Azkaban and then twelve years under the Imperius curse didn't leave him unscathed. He is not mentally or emotionally well or anything close to it when we meet him in the books.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths.” “I haven’t got any,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you’ve got strengths if I say you’ve got them. Think now. What are you best at?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 344)

I love this scene. Like, this is the first ever time an adult with authority, a teacher, tells Harry how great he is. I talked about the fact Harry is clever and magically powerful but has really low self-esteem. And Barty actually argues with him. Bart (as Moody) makes him believe he could become something. That he has things he is good at.

One of this book's antagonists is the first person to tell Harry he has strengths. That's just all levels of messed up.

It shows Barty Crouch Jr actually does more for Harry's emotional well-being than any other professor he had. More than McGonagall, more than Lupin. Actually, the only adult who tries to help Harry with more care than Barty, is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. It's just insane that Barty, a Death Eater, actually understood Harry and went out of his way to help with his insecurities and make him comfortable more than Molly Weasley did.

Now, let's talk about the Farret Incident because it's interesting too. both regarding his defense of Harry and his hatred of the Death Eaters that got away.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, page 205)

Barty steps in to defend Harry because he does it a lot. It's why I placed this moment in this section. One would expect someone who wants Harry to die to not mind if he was cursed a bit, it's not like Draco was about to kill him, but no, he defends him even when no one sees him there.

But specifically in this incident, I want to mention how personal he gets about this. Barty's disdain towards the Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban is very real and very dangerous to Draco. He's furious they didn't need to spend a year in hell on earth only to then be enslaved by a curse for 12 years by their father who kept them like a dirty secret in the basement.

As I mentioned above, I don't think Barty is mentally sound, but I think he genuinely cares about Harry and didn't torture the Longbottoms.

In the next post, I go through the final scene of Barty in the book, and explain the whole plan Barty had.

Part 2 >>

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chimchiri · 2 months

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Hii WB anon here and I'm back again!! Saw your posts about spitdash and oh my god, I love the way you actually acknowledge the unfortunate power dynamic and found a way to make it work!! I think it's very romantic how Spitfire chose to step down in order to date rainbows dash, it's adorable!! As always your art and headcanons are great. Speaking of headcanons!! Since you've mentioned soarin and spitfire dynamics a few times, can we have more about them/soarin as a whole? I do not remember if I've mentioned it in the last ask but soarin is my personal favorite, I have a closer bond to him since he's the reason I got into the wonderbolts in the first place. So I'd love to see if you have any headcanons about him (fyi I will probably go back into your ask box to ask about the others but for now we're focusing on soarin he needs his moment to shine)

You hold a special place in my heart for asking about the WB, Soarin and Spitty... Oof long text incoming about them!

One recurring hc I have is that they're childhood friends - even platonic soulmates.

I hc Spitfire to have had a lot of trouble making friends as a kid. Mainly because she had way too much energy, an insane competitive drive and quite the anger issues. She didn't have anything against other kids per se, she wasn't just mean. But her natural talent for flying and quick frustration when others wouldn't do as she wanted (like a partner not giving it their all during a race or a slower runner making it hard for her to pass them during a run/race) were a toxic combination and made her explode regularly. Hearing her shout and stomp in frustration wasn't uncommon. Naturally, kids used to avoid and/or gossip about her, even if she tried to find some friends and help others get to her level so they could do some friendly racing or sparring. Some kids may have provoked her, which would usually result in a brawl or some form of violence depending on the other kid's attitude, as soon as she felt her pride was harmed. Ultimately she didn't want to harm other per se. She was just hyper-focused on running, flying, anything adrenaline, and had a lot of trouble managing her emotions.

Insert Soarin: I mentioned that he definitely loves a good race and winning as much as the other Wonderbolts - a quality anyone has naturally in that position. But outside of a race, I hc him as the softest, most relaxed, and also most tired guy there is. He really just encapsulates this meme for me (just imagine there are also dark circles)

He's docile, friendly and (as a kid) very agreeable - which unfortunately, resulted in him having trouble finding true friends as well and getting bullied. While he got to tag along, he was often the butt of a joke due to his soft nature. Being used as a water boy or personal butler also was daily routine, which he accepted with a heavy heart. I hc Soarin to have a strong sense of justice and having very developed empathy even as a kid. He's a thinker, a strategist. He observes, notices and concludes. He's not stupid. He knows and can tell the other kids don't really like him and treat him badly, but he just wants to have some friends. Plus, he's not very courageous (as a kid) and doesn't want to face arguing and fighting. He just wants to be included.

His "friend" group doesn't like Spitfire and definitely called her a crazy devil. Soarin initially only heard bad and frankly, quite intimidating things about her. But after meeting her he quickly concludes that she's not a real threat and just has some trouble with her anger. But she's trying to be helpful and outside of any competition is actually rather calm and nice.

There's no specific hc how they met but it was definitely Soarin who tried to initiate contact and a friendship. And Spitfire who was probably wary about him due to his friend group. I love to think they connected very quickly and balanced each other out well. Soarin was the first kid who would race her no matter how often he'd lose and not get annoyed or angry at her. Which was because he immediately noticed that she doesn't like to put others down - she just loves to race, win and get better. After a while he also realized, that she loves any kind of improvement, really. Not just her own. She'd give him tips, train with him and would also get just as excited when he got better. She just loved adrenaline, training and most importantly - seeing improvement and success. For her or others. It's something Sptifire never noticed herself and it was Soarin who, years later, would mention it and ultimately be the reason why she would end up as captain of the Wonderbolts.

Kid Spitfire would be good for Soarin too: not only standing up to anyone who treated him badly, but also getting him to speak out for himself and say out his thoughts out loud.

Honestly, I just love them getting each other. Even when they're completely different in character. They look at each other and they just know. They know when the other is unwell or when there is something off. There is almost no secret they can keep from the other. They know what the other needs, wants, desires. And by adulthood, they'd trust each other with their life. UGH I really really love them as platonic soulmates.

They walk side by side in each others lives. They're a perfect match and in the Wonderbolts, as captain and deputy, they're an almost unstoppable team. Not only because they trust and care about each other like no one else, but also because they both can separate work from their personal feelings. They're both able to make decisions that may be unpleasant for their friendship but greatly benefit the Wonderbolts.

A characteristic also great in arguments btw: Just because they understand and get each other doesn't mean they always agree with each other. I imagine they definitely get into loud arguments. Soarin can be just as stubborn as Spitfire in some aspects, especially when he thinks he has the correct facts and logic on his side. (It's the stubborn, analytical science side of his.) Though for them, it's easy to not take arguing personal. They may get frustrated but they can clearly differentiate that the topic at hand is the problem and each other. So it's not uncommon for them to be arguing and shouting at each other and having casual, friendly lunch 15 min later. Something that the other Wonderbolts definitely have a hard time understanding.

Some last points: Soarin has never had any jealousy towards Spitfire, neither as a kid, nor as her deputy. And maybe it's exactly because of this why she's made him deputy and then captain after her departure. I imagine her stepping down (for romance of all things, which he later learns) is the first thing he truly, never ever saw coming. He's usually great at reading and anticipating her. But this? It takes him by COMPLETE surprise and he definitely has a very hard time accepting it. It's like a surreal fever dream. He may even have a small crisis, thinking that she'll be gone for good after - just leaving him behind. This fear probably takes a LOT of reassurance from Spitfire to calm him down again.

I've written way too much already, so I'll just end it with two short hcs:

1) He's got trouble with sleep and insomnia since teenage years. It's often a joke with friends or later on in the WBs. Jokes he usually goes along with or even initiates. Spitfire is one of the few people who know that it's more than just jokes, and that some days it really takes a hard toll on him. They used to share beds - which helped Soarin sleep - and still sometimes do in the WBs. Which also leads into:

2) In some AUs, I hc they did have some flings and physical/sexual experience with each other. But the details are too much and complex to write out and too nsfw to include into this post.

#WB anon 🤝 Wonderbolt appreciation 🤝 Me #God I just LOVE THEM #so much text and I DIDNT EVEN MENTION SPITTYS CLOTHES #though they don't have anything to do with Soarin #also regarding spitdash I wanna mention: I also love the power imbalance between them in some AUs #as in - it can be very interesting and/or hot to keep it a secret and KNOW that you're not supposed to do what you're doing #also some other AUs are just basically a big WB makeout and sexy times party. But those are almost purely lemon/nsft AUs #but in the 'main' one I really love Spitty valuing her morals and stepping down before she officially asks Rainbow out #finally: anon you can ALWAYS ask about them #I love answering mlp asks.... especially WBs and Rainbow...#ask chim #headcanons #soarin #mlp soarin #spitfire #mlp spitfire #my art #mlp

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Rest my darling| fluff

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*Authors note~ I do love fluffy Weems. I'd die for a hug right now to be held while I sleep sounds so amazing till the next time*

Prompt~ reader is not sleeping at all or if she does it's poor quality sleep. Being a very touch starved and reserved person she gets by hoping no one notices how dead on her feet she is. Larissa noticed and wants to help. Flufffy sleepy vibes.

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Squinting slightly at the big red block numbers that seeming taunted you, you sighed once more. Two o'clock in the morning. God. This wasn't the first night or hell even the first week you were facing sleepless nights. No, this had been going on for months now. Either you got a few hours of poor quality sleep or you just didn't sleep. All you could do is lay in bed and stare into the black shadows that haunted your room.

Makeup was doing a marvellous job at hiding the dark circles underneath your eyes, the same very pair that were stinging and blood shot. In fact you had taken recently to wearing your long chocolate locks down allowing them to frame your face hoping to redirect the attention from your eyes to else where. Glasses were the next change. Your tired eyes needed the extra support these days so you often found yourself with the black rimmed pieces of glass on your face as your marked or planned lessons. Only ever adorning them when you were alone. The headaches were excruciating. Your body desperately wanting to force you into sleep.

Your skin seemed to be paler these recent days. You blinked more and your concentration decreased massively. All things that a keen eye would pick up if they knew you well. However to your knowledge no one was watching you that closely. After all you prefer your own company more often than not so worrying over friends was something you didn't do. The students were too preoccupied with the usual teenage dramas and exams which is what you believe has allowed you to get away undetected with this for this long.

The shrill of the alarm broke you from another night of sleepless thoughts. You let a sigh and a roll of your eyes take over your body. It was so damn Frustrating. And if your honest did you really have the energy to get up and teach your drama lessons today? No you didn't. But laying in the bed unable to sleep wasn't appealing either. So with a grunt you dragged yourself out of bed and got ready for the day.

Now Larissa likes to pride herself on her observation skills. Of course she did. As years of being a misunderstood version of an outcast, she spent years in the shadows just watching. Now recently y/n had peaked the women's interest. Her behaviour was a little off these last few weeks which had caused her to observe you. However, Larissa couldn't crack what was causing the strange behaviour from y/n. Just waiting for someone to come to here so she could have a reason to check in.

You're lessons today seemed to drag on forever. Drama was the one passion you had for life. The ability to be anyone you wanted to be. To put the real Y/n aside and transform into someone else. A great way to deal with emotions and express yourself. It's one reason why you wished you had the ability of the principle. To be able to change, transform and create a new person. To escape. Instead you got stuck with the ability to feel emotions. Feeling everyone's emotions and reading their auras. The ability definitely aided your teaching.

"And this guys is why creative arts are so important. It's important to remember you are who you are and that's okay. You should be free to express yourself in any ways you deem fit." You finished declaring to your 5th years. Most of the students met you with smiles and of course Wednesday with her usual blank stare.

Claps sounded the drama hall catching your attention. "Ah! Principal Weems what a lovely surprise" you exclaimed plastering a small smile on your face and trying to use your normal tone not the one that had exhaustion dripping through it.

The bell screeched out causing all the 5th years to file out the hall. Their own private conversations filling the hall until you were left in a silence between you and your boss. "I uh what can I do for you?" You murmured pacing around tidying mindlessly to look busy.

"Y/n, can we take this to my office? It would feel more" she trailed off searching for the right word, " appropriate" she finished off with a timid smile in your direction.

A small nod was all you could manage as you wordlessly followed behind the taller women as she lead the way. Panic rising in you, what would Larissa need? Did you do something wrong? Oh god were you getting fired? No you knew you were good at your job. The students loved your lessons. You knew that. So why this spontaneous meeting? Your thoughts being cut off as you entered the office.

"Take a seat darling" she murmured and gestured to the sofa in her office in front of the fire. You did so wordlessly, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. You gaze stayed cast downward as you waited for her to join you and start the conversation. She did so taking in your reactions. You looked so small like this. And no that wasn't just because you were a measly five foot 4 inches whereas Larissa stood at a stunning six foot three inches.

"Darling?" She almost whispered not wanting to startle you. The term of endearment confusing you yet adding a small amount of comfort to your worries.

"Mmm?"

"Are you quite alright darling? You seem to be off recently." She queried concern dripping in her soft voice.

"I um um alright principle Weems, just a little tired" you murmured refusing to look up and meet her caring gaze.

"You can call me Larissa darling, would you like to share why you're tried?" She reached over to place a comforting hand on your thigh. Only you flinched away as if you had been burned. Not the reaction the blonde women wanted to cause. She quickly snatched her hand back and apologised immediately. "Oh y/n... I'm so sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable darling."

A little sigh escaped you. The exhaustion weakening your resolve. Clearly Larissa knew something was up all continuing to hide it would achieve is more exhaustion. "I forgot what human contact felt like. I apologise Larissa, I uh can you just um never mind" you cut yourself off from your own sentence.

Luckily for you, Larissa seemed to follow your train of thought and willingly gathered you in her arms as if you were the most fragile diamond. Only then did the sobs wreck your exhausted frame. Tears silently streaming as you gasped for breaths. How embarrassing all because you were being held.

"Oh my darling, it's okay let it all out. It's okay you're safe with me." Larissa reassured bringing her hand up to stroke through your curls in a soothing manner. Just holding and soothing you until you were calmer. Only then did you whimper out a response to the older women. "I don't sleep well recently. It's because of the date. I uh I remember everything vividly. Even his emotions. It haunts me. It never goes away." You whimpered out moving to hide your face into her neck. "I'm tired l-Rissa so tired."

"Oh, I know my darling I know you are. Thank you for sharing this with me. It may not seem like much but it's a start. How can we try to help you sleep?"

"I don't feel safe sleep scared" you mumbled out incoherently. Your words tickling her neck.

"Because you're alone?" Her tone was soft as she tried to piece together the bits of information she could. You nodded into her neck once more mumbling "he could come back ris I can't I no not again" despite how exhausted you were the panic is evident in your words.

A comfortable silence wrapped around you both, just sitting and processing every bit of information given. Larissa was the first one to break the silence "darling do you feel safe here?" A timid question that almost sounded unlike the principle herself. You nodded again not trusting yourself to speak.

Larissa adjusted your small frame so you were now sitting on her lap, hugging her like a koala bear. Instantly your head found its place in the crook of her neck. A hand gently rubbing your back and legs gently swaying side to side in a comforting rhythm. "Then my darling, you sleep. I'll watch over you and keep you safe. No one will hurt you darling. Just rest" she murmured into your hair.

You didn't know what it was that heightened your exhaustion. Maybe it was the scent of her or was it the soothing touches and rocking ? It didn't matter, just glad you were pulled into a slumber resting against the blonde women. Finally a safe place to rest. You trust Larissa and if she says no one will hurt you then no one will.

Larissa PoV

Her breathing slowed into a rhythmic pattern, soft little breaths tickling your neck as she rested. It must have been months since you had properly rested. Feeling a shiver run through your body I quickly wrapped my throw over your shoulders. Not wanting to disturb the slumber you so desperately needed I kicked off my heels and leant back against the arm of the sofa.

Callie my assistant, let her self in to the office only to be shot a sharp glare. "Principle Weems your -" her words died on her lips. The glare was a clear warning. Leave. Nothing would be disturbing you while you rested in my arms. No one was worth that. Meetings could be rescheduled but you were a valued member of staff and your well-being is of upmost importance. A quick glance down to the sleeping form you were filled with relief that the younger women seemed to be in a relaxed slumber. Confusingly, you felt an unexplainable protectiveness of y/n. Little did you know that would bloom into something beautiful in the upcoming months.

Word count ~ 1791

*Authors note ~ I do love fluffy Weems. I'd die for a hug right now to be held while I sleep sounds so amazing till the next time"

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #fanfic #larissa x you #wednesday netflix

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gamebunny-advance · 3 months

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Kun3h0 Custom Doll Repaint

So, here's what I've been working on for the past month or so. I've wanted to do a custom doll project for a long time now, and I finally got the opportunity to actually do it. I don't think she's bad for a first doll, but there's a lot I feel I could do better and differently.

Once again, my pictures hardly do her any justice... mostly due to color balancing.

I tried to edit these pics to make them a little more accurate, but it also yellowed out everything else, so... yeah. A photographer/image editor I am not.

That said, aside from the poor quality of the images, I'd say that the pics capture both her good points and her jank.

(More about the process and other thoughts under the cut.)

So, she started with a Cave Club doll as the base (I believe her name was Fernessa).

I unfortunately didn't take any pics of this doll with her clothes on, but I'm sure you can search pics of the original base doll yourself.

Besides being very cheap, I really liked the proportions on this doll for Kun3h0. I like the short torso with the long legs and the huge feet. Even the face is kinda Kun3h0-esque (though, a little more on that later).

I've had the idea to customize a Kun3h0 doll for a while, and I always thought the best base would have been an LOL OMG doll since they also have the big head, small torso, and long legs. But, I was always on the fence about them because their hips are a lot wider than Kun3h0's, and I felt like that would always bother me. But once I found out about Cave Club and also found out they're bascially cheap as dirt for the amount of articulation you get, I knew that this was the best match for Kun3h0.

Sadly, the hands aren't as big, and I did consider resculpting them to be more accurate to Kun3h0, but I lack the materials to make that look good enough to be worth doing, so in the end I just repainted the original hands. So I guess this doll is gonna have the non-standard 5-fingers XP. (I forgot to take pics, but the back of the hands do have the heart detail on them. )

Because I have to tie this back to NSR somehow, I think this doll would be a great base for some NSR characters, or really any other stylized character like this. I could def see a cute Mayday coming out of one of these (but not from me~ If I made a Mayday, then I'd want to make a Zuke to go with her, and I just cannot imagine how to make a Zuke doll without him becoming way too top-heavy).

However, I did resculpt the legs to become her boots, so she stands a little taller than the base Cave Club. While I think doing this works for Kun3h0 since she's a robot, if I want to make some alternate outfits for her, they're gonna have to include these boots, or I'm gonna have to get another doll to make some alternate legs.

Unfortunately, my only material I have for body mods is air-dry paper clay, and it doesn't transition as well into the plastic the same way something like apoxie sculpt probably would have. It's not super noticeable at a distance when they're painted, but under scrutiny, you can see a clear transition. I also forgot to detail her heel, so the shoes are flat even though they shouldn't be~ They do help her to stand on her own though, so I guess it's not the worst thing in the world~

While I was doing the sculpting, I also made the wig.

Finding a yarn that would properly convey Kun3h0's hair color is nigh impossible, given the cartoony shading of them, so I settled for a median between the dark rasperry and hot pink and got this regular raspberry yarn. The unaltered pics make it look a little more purple than it actually is. It really is a warm raspberry color.

(I'd say that this is closer to the actual color, maybe a tad darker.)

Let me tell y'all, brushing out yarn wefts is not fun. I also felt like I wasn't doing it right since I lost a lot of material brushing it out. From the little research I did, this seems to be a common problem, but it doesn't sit right with me for so much of it to get wasted like that~

Another challenge I had is that there (of course) aren't very many resources for getting yarn wefts curly or how to make curly hairstyles using yarn wefts. I know that this is relatively easy to achieve with actual doll hair through boil washing, but that wasn't really a viable option for a yarn wig like this. Since I really wanted the hair to look naturally curly as opposed to looking like it was curled after the fact, I curled the hair before gluing it onto the wig cap, which was a mini-nightmare. I followed a video tutorial about how to make a pigtails wig, I just applied the methods to the curly hair.

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I don't know if I just didn't make enough wefts to make the tails poofy enough, or if this method just wasn't suited for curly hair, but I just didn't get the volume I was looking for.

To achieve the fuller look that Kun3h0's puffs have, I glued some scrap yarn fluff in the center of the original puffs and just tried to manage the shape from there. It's not perfect, but I think I've more or less brought her original hair to life. It's hard to see since they get lost in the mess of hair, but I was even able to get those stray curls that she has to look nice~

However, for some reason, the wig really doesn't like to stay on. I dunno if it's the ears pushing it off, or if something else makes it loose, but it really doesn't like to stay on her head. I might try applying heat to the cap to see if I can get it to reshape around her head properly, but I don't have high hopes for that.

Overall, having made the wig and seen it in real life, I've confirmed something that I've kinda felt for a while: Kun3h0 really needs something on her head between her antenna. I feel like her antenna and the top of her head create a sort of "empty box" that is just asking to be filled with something. I recently did a drawing of Kun3h0 where I have her an ahoge, and I think it helps a lot.

It's a little too late to add this to the doll (and I don't even know how I'd go about it), but I think from now on, she's gonna have a curl that sticks up on the top of her head.

Moving on: the face.

I really wish I could get some clearer pictures here, because the eyes really aren't as bad as the pics make them look.

While I am trying to keep her right covered as much as possible, I did still paint both of them with acrylics. I don't have MSC or watercolor pencils like most of the pros do, so I made use of what I had. I'm certainly not getting that "crisp lineart" look that Kun3h0 is basically built on, but I don't think the results are horrible. They're sealed with a gloss varnish, so they don't photograph well, but I do like how the texture is very different from the skin, it almost sells that they're made of glass.

As for the other details, I did do the lining in dark purple, like I usually do for her lineart. I'm on the fence on if this works IRL or not. On the one hand, I feel like the purple lineart is a part of the character design, it helps balance out all the pinks, but when I only use the purple on the doll for the face (and her stomach paneling), I do wonder if it looks strange, and if I would have been better off lining her with dark brown instead.

In fact, I did the original sketch with brown for the paneling.

(Right eye not canon.)

But when I made the actual doll, I wound up doing purple anyway to match the eyelashes, so they wouldn't look as out of place.

Other details I wanted to mention are that the upper eyelashes/eyelid is actually a piece of painted foam that I glued on. I really wanted to achieve that cartoony look of how I usually draw the lashes over her hair, even if it doesn't make logical sense.

I wasn't able to do the same thing for the brows, but I still did something a little "special" with them.

Instead of making myself cry trying to get an accurate color-match with paint, her eyebrows are actually flocked using some of the leftover yarn. I've hardly seen anyone do this for a doll repaint, but I don't think this look would suit most brows anyway~

Overall, I'm only a *little* unsatisfied by the face-up, but my disappointment is mostly in the eye-shape. I didn't want to go against the face mold too much, but that meant that I couldn't really make the eye taller like Kun3h0's actually are. If the eye was any taller, the brows would have been right against the hairline, and that wouldn't be a great look IMO. I feel like 80% of Kun3h0's identity is in her face, so having it be even a little inaccurate does bring her down a little.

Lastly, I think all that's left to talk about is clothes and accessories.

I am personally really in love with the shorts and it's why I chose them to be the preview for this project. I added the beltloops after I took that pic, and I think they turned out so cute, even if you can see the stitching of the belt to the shorts.

I went through quite a few patterns trying to get them right. The Cave Club dolls don't seem to be super popular in customizer circles, so there aren't many if any patterns out there for them. At first I was just eyeballing a shorts pattern from this video and going through some trial and error trying to adapt them to the doll's body.

youtube

I made 3 or 4 pairs of shorts this way, but they all ended up too tight. In the end, I wound up using the "wrap-and-tape" method of pattern making, and made the shorts from there. I honestly wasn't too confident in the results, so I very haphazardly made the trial pair with this new pattern, but they fit so great that I wound up using the test shorts for the final product.

The top was not as successful. Unlike the shorts, I didn't start making test tops until I'd already done the wrap and tape. So the pattern making wasn't actually the hardest part: it was putting it together that was a nightmare.

While I was making the top, I would of course have Kun3h0 put it on to test the fit, which stretched out the fabric to a noticeable degree. This was one of the last things I worked on, so I was getting really fed up with working on this for so long, so I told myself that I would probably just hide it with paint later.

That was mistake number 1.

As I should have learned from painting Green's face, the paint hardened the fabric tremendously, giving it almost no stretch. Originally the plan was to use velcro to close the top in the back, but the pattern didn't account for the lack of stretch, so it's actually too small to close edge to edge. So, I had to cut velcro to extend beyond the actual clothes to close it up. So basically, there's a gaping hole in the back of her outfit and is the main reason why I refuse to post back pictures of this doll.

For the time being, I do consider this top to be a "prototype" and I'll probably remake it in the future with some improvements. But, painting the fabric after stitching it together is not the only mistake I made.

Since this top is a prototype, there's a lot of other things that I did in a bad order: I really should have done the hemming and put on the accents before putting the pieces together, but since I wasn't sure if the pattern would fit first, and thought I would have the energy to make a second better top, I didn't bother with it. This included the cuffs of the sleeve.

That was mistake number 2.

The way I made the sleeves is that the arms are really just a large trapazoid with the shoulder shape at the top. The idea was that I would just sew the large side to a piece of shorter elastic band which would serve as the cuffs. I figured this would cause the sleeve to look "ballooned" at the end. And it kinda worked. You can kinda see how it turned out on her right sleeve in the first picture, but actually sewing it together was kinda terrible because the only way I could think of to do this was to sew the cuff and sleeve separately first, then sew them together, and that just seems ass-backwards to me, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it, and it came out with the cuff being mostly obscured anyway. I tried a different method on the left sleeve, so the cuff is more visible, but the sleeve shape is worse.

So if/when I remake this top, I'm still gonna do this in my ass-backwards way, I've just got to figure out how to keep the sleeve from eating the cuff.

Otherwise, I think the top would actually be pretty cute. I was really getting tired of working on it at the end, so a lot of the details are actually hot-glued on instead of being sewn. The faux-zipper pull is a *little* large, but it's something I had that I thought would work, and I actually really like the oversized look. It works for the proportions of the doll and helps bring in the heart motif that's getting a little lost in the sloppiness of my painting~

The last thing I think worth talking about is the mini GAB.

I thought I'd taken a pic of it by itself, but I guess not. Anyway, the only thing I wanted to say about it is that there's a little "clip" on the back made from wire that allows it to hook onto Kun3h0's belt and be held in her hand. I dunno, I just really like the little accessories, and that little feature amuses me~

But that's it for now. I am actually working on two other accessories for her:

The doll came with a pet dinosuar that I'm currently turning into her GAB.

It's just about the right size to be in scale with Kun3h0, and the hair is basically already the same as GAB's. I've already modified the base with clay and cut off the bits I don't need. It's mostly a matter of sanding and painting right now. I have no idea how or if I'm going to get the collar onto it without it looking bad, but I'll give it a try. If all else fails, I'll just make a tiny bow-tie like GAB!classic~

I don't have a pic of this one, but the doll also came with some sort of flower pot thing that I'm turning into her drill using a metal piping tip for the drill head~ I'll post about them in an "accessories DLC" when they're both finished.

But wait... if you've made it this far, and you saw my preview post, then you might notice that there's one accessory missing.